[ For a brief fraction of a second, Neuvillette feels a chord of alarm within him when he sees the beginning of tears; why is she crying at good news? Then the thank you is spoken and it occurs to him that these are tears of joy, relief or something in that general vicinity. It's easy to forget sometimes that humans occasionally cry for good reasons and not as an expression of sadness or physical pain. (The rain his emotions bring down from the skies have never been the result of joy, only ever his sorrow.) ]
You're welcome, Mademoiselle. [ He replies, a neutral quality to his voice as he continues while he keeps his gaze affixed to what he can see of her face. He would've missed that slight tremble to her lip if he wasn't paying more attention to her body language. ] They're still working to establish whether he was aware that it would have dissolved you, but given that he's Fontainian I find it hard to believe that he wasn't at least given some sort of warning to handle it with utmost care.
[ Apparently he had confessed during questioning to having tampered with her drink, but swore that it's all he's guilty of because he wasn't told what would happen. Which, to Neuvillette, sounds like a pathetic attempt to only be charged with a lesser crime that will get him a more lenient punishment now that he's been cornered with no way out of the metaphorical noose tightening around his neck. ]
[ She's not sure why— perhaps it is merely another byproduct of the fact that they're in the quiet after the storm— but the sudden talk of her potentially being dissolved, especially in such a calm, neutral voice, makes her legs feel like they're about to give out from underneath her. Part of her wants to cover her ears, to beg Neuvillette to stop talking, but she's not a little girl anymore— this is the life for which she signed up when her father passed; these are the things she has to be able to hear. To be able to accept and deal with as a part of the reality of her world.
And yet—
There's no doubting that her face has gone rather pale as she reaches a steadying hand to his desk, trying to keep herself upright as she sets determined sapphire eyes on his face. ]
Monsieur Neuvillette, I rather think I might need to sit down for a spell.
[ —Is what she tells him, before her trembling legs cave underneath her and she finds herself doing just that: sitting abruptly, painfully on the floor. ]
[ Navia suddenly putting a hand on his desk to steady herself brings a touch of concern into Neuvillette's gaze, and he's just about to direct her over to one of the couches when she abruptly disappears behind his desk.
Eyes widening a little, he quickly rises to his feet, the chair scraping from the force of it. With hurried steps he rounds the desk to find her sitting on the floor; mildly worrying, but at least she hasn't lost consciousness like he had initially feared.
Offering a hand, he helps her up onto her feet and gingerly puts an arm around her back for support as he leads her over to the aforementioned couch. ]
[ Navia blinks in dizzied confusion for the moment or two before Neuvillette joins her, helping her to her feet and winding an arm around her shoulder. Later, she'll remember to be ashamed of the way she presses into his side, leaning into him completely as he guides her to the couch. She feels quite faint even now, and she hates the way she sinks heavily into the soft cushions, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment or two.
She nods. ]
Yes, monsieur, please. [ Her voice is faint. ] I apologize— I am not quite sure what came over me.
[ It's a lie— she is sure. But she doesn't want to admit the truth of the matter, that she's gone to her knees over her anxieties and fears about what could have happened. ]
[ With a nod, Neuvillette steps away to the glass cabinet on the other side of his office that looks like it's for wine but is actually for the storage of bottles his favourite water. He doesn't bother trying to think of what she might best from his collection and simply takes one at random—sourced from Sumeru's Lokapala Jungle—and pours its contents into one of his finely crafted chalices until it's about three-fourths full before returning to the young lady on the couch. ]
Here. [ He says, offering her the chalice. ] Could it be stress that brought this on?
[ Navia takes the chalice with a small, grateful smile, drinking from it in slow, careful sips. The water is fresh and clean, and while she cannot place the same flavors in it that the Iudex can, it helps in this moment to clear her head of the sudden fog filling it, to rid her mouth of the strange, almost metallic taste that had found its way behind her lips. ]
...Thank you. [ It's said when the chalice is mostly emptied, though she continues to hold it gently between both hands, lest the faintness try to claw its way back to where it can overtake her once more.
And frankly, she doesn't want to talk about it, lest in her weakness she admit the truth behind her sudden spell— but Neuvillette gives her an out, one she takes gladly with a nod. ]
I think that is likely the case, yes. There has been... a great deal going on, of late.
[ Neuvillette nods in understanding; yes, there has been quite a lot happening recently. The conclusion of the serial disappearances, the discovery of the Primordial Seawater and its dissolving properties, and finding closure for Callas's death at last... he can see why that would be a lot to deal with at once. Humans tend to be fragile and much less resistant to stress than dragons. ]
Please rest here until you feel steady enough to walk unaided. Is there anything else I can get for you?
[ In response to Neuvillette's question, Navia manages a small shake of her head. A short rest, that is all she needs, and then she'll be able to leave him and try to put thoughts of her almost-murder behind her. Perhaps Melus and Silver will take her for a walk, distract her from the worst of it until the fear and anxiety has finally melted away into the distance of the past. Either way, she should refrain from troubling the Iudex himself with her problems any longer— after all, she wanted to come here to offer her apologies, not distract and bother him yet further.
So she smiles, shakes her head again as if to emphasize the reassurance she aims to give him. ]
No, Monsieur. Thank you, but I do not wish to impose myself any further upon your kindness. I am all too aware of how busy your schedule is; once my strength is recovered, I will be on my way. I will be fine—
[ *** ]
—there is no need to concern yourself on my account.
[ The words come out weaker than Navia would like. The two of them are barely out of the Traveler's eyesight when Neuvillette asks after her, and it's all she can do not to collapse on the spot in an echo of that time mere weeks ago in the Iudex's office. Back then, she could think only of getting home, of inviting her closest companions on a walk so that she may put her worries behind her.
She can't do that today.
Melus and Silver will never walk with her again.
No— No, she mustn't think like that. One foot in front of the other. She will walk home, she will speak to the men she has stationed there still, she will see what else needs yet to be done. She will focus on that, on moving forward, on fixing those things needing to be fixed. Just like her Papa would have done.
[ As the Traveler and Paimon depart in one direction, Neuvillette turns to walk beside the young woman; he should be heading back to the Palais and as promised, talk to Furina about those mysterious stone slates they found at the heart of the ruins, but there's just... something that compels him to stay with Navia a little longer after that near death experience she went through. He doesn't want to let her out of sight just yet, at least not until they've made it to Poisson.
Several lives have been lost to those ancient waters; not quite dead in the usual sense of the word, perhaps, but most would not consider being melded together into a singular entity without individuality to be truly alive. What happened at Poisson is a tragedy, a dark reminder of the many more lives that will be swept away if they don't find a way to avert the preordained fate... and with no apparent solution in sight, Neuvillette's frustration grows with each passing moment. He wishes he could have done something, he wishes he had the power that the Usurper tore from his grasp so many eons ago; then none of this would be happening and he would not be feeling the twinge he feels stabbing into his crystalline heart at the sight of Navia's grief. ]
I don't think you will, Mademoiselle. [ He says, his voice a soft whisper yet carries a weight beyond its volume. ] Please allow yourself to process what you are feeling.
[ He probably should not be giving advice on emotional matters, but he can't just say nothing... ]
[ The Iudex, a man Navia previously accused of lacking in emotion, is asking her to properly process her feelings. In any other situation, she'd laugh so sweetly at the irony of it, perhaps take the opportunity to gently tease both him and herself—
But as it stands now, her heart is aching with cold, broken and shattered at her feet. Her legs tremble; her arms quake. How is she meant to move forward when she no longer remembers how to walk?
She needs somewhere to sit, lest her legs cave like they did on that day in his office. But they are standing at the water's edge, and the only things around are rocks, and...
Navia closes her eyes, breathes through the tears, tries to process the onrush of thoughts. ]
You— Monsieur Neuvillette, you saved me back there. [ She pushes aside the knowledge of Melus and Silver the pair of Oceanids that protected her for long enough for him to do so— If she thinks on them, she'll break— and focuses instead on the events that occurred outside of her realm of awareness. ] I would have been dissolved, and— and the people of Poisson would have no one to help them anymore.
[ Is she processing her feelings? Yes. Is she processing the feelings she should be processing? Most certainly not. ]
[ Neuvillette is not a tactile person and generally prefers not to make physical contact with others unless it's a handshake (or with Melusines, friendly headpats) but in this moment, the sight of Navia stirs something in him; an urge to pull her close against his chest and let her cry it all out into his jabot while his palm gently cradles the back of her head. He chooses not to act on this particular urge, but he does reach out to place a gloved hand on her shoulder, a gesture he hopes will be seen as a gesture of comfort. ]
Poisson needs you, but you mustn't ignore your feelings. [ He says, quietly, his voice gentle like the waves lapping the shore at their feet, yet also tinged with an undertone of gravity. He feels way out of his depth and isn't even sure there's anything appropriate to say here, but something in him compels him to make the effort anyway even if he's likely going to stumble when it comes to matters of the human heart. ]
I think... if you don't allow yourself to address everything you're feeling, it'll eventually come out at an inopportune time.
[ The hand placed gently on her shoulder stirs something in her; she has to fight an urge of her own, to turn and press herself into his arms and cry and cry until she has no tears left. Instead, she reaches up with one trembling hand, laying it across that which sits on her shoulder, fingers pressing gently into the fabric of his glove as if the action alone will bring her peace.
But Neuvillette yet has words to speak, encourages her to address her feelings even as she tries to run from them—
and he's right, she knows he is
—and Navia's eyes close as fresh tears slip from them, and as her legs tremble under her, she turns into him after all, shaking fingers twining in the fabric of his long, elegant robe. ]
They're gone, [ she whispers, and her voice breaks on the words. ] I didn't even have the chance to say goodbye, and they're gone. Just like—
[ The tears run down her cheeks, and she takes a faltering step into him, face pressing into his shoulder in spite of her earlier resolution to stay strong and put together. ]
[ A small thrum of tension runs through Neuvillette when the young woman first curls her fingers into the lapels of his robes and takes it a step further by burying her face in his shoulders and letting her tears soak into the fabric; he's still not accustomed to this kind of physical proximity and he isn't sure what to even do. In a sense, it's easier to deal with the occasional creepy stalker when they hug him out of nowhere because the correct response is to immediately disengage and arrest them. This is nothing like that and he must act with a delicate approach.
He takes a deep breath, relaxing somewhat. His hands hover awkwardly over her shoulders for a moment, then puts his arms around her in a loose embrace—one that's easy to pull away from if there is any discomfort. ]
Mortal lives are unfairly cut short, sometimes. [ He whispers, softly. ] ...I don't think there's anything I can say to ease your grief, Mademoiselle, but I will be here for as long as you need it.
[ When Navia does step back, it's only to look up at him, her eyes brimming with tears, sapphire gaze seeking the lavender of his before she presses back in with another helpless sob. Truthfully, she doesn't know what to do. With everything that needs to happen, the deepest part of her feels as if this is a waste of time, that they should be focused now on something that isn't her emotional health. ]
I— I'm sorry. Truthfully, we— we do not have time for that, Monsieur, we... we are in a race against the clock...
[ Despite saying as much, she stays close, trying to breathe through her tears. She can't quite help herself. His hold, his soft voice, even the scent of him somehow serves as a comfort, soothes the feeling of her trembling, quaking legs that otherwise are trying to give out on her. She shouldn't lean on him so much. He has already done so much. He saved her, he—
Navia sucks in a breath, taking a shaking step back from him. ]
[ Neuvillette says nothing more as he lets Navia sob into his fabric, the dark spot of tears growing bigger with each passing second, nearly soaking into the undershirt beneath. He wishes there was something he could say or do to alleviate her pain, but what could possibly be done to ease the pain of loss felt by those left behind? He thinks of that adage of how only time can heal, and time is in short supply right now. She is right about that. ]
...I understand. [ When she moves to pull away, part of him wants to pull her back and keep her close. But he ignores that part of him, dropping his arms from around her as she steps back. ]
But please let me accompany you back to Poisson, at least.
[ From above, a few stray raindrops fall and hit the brim of Navia's hat; not the kind that heralds an approaching downpour, but rather the equivalent of an errant teardrop escaping to drift the length of the dragon's cheek. ]
[ It's hard for her to pull back. The only thing she wants is to hover close, to press herself into him and weep until she can't possibly weep any more. Instead, she breathes through the sensation, closing her eyes and trying to gather herself back together. She has to be strong right now. Her heart hurts, but there are others who need her... She has to look forward, not back.
She looks up to him, and nods. ]
Y-yes, that would be fine.
[ She swipes a hand across her lashes, catching the tears in the lacy fabric of her glove, but in the same moment she feels something hitting against her hat, and she frowns— all Fontainians recognize the feel of raindrops— eyes tracking briefly to the sky. ]
Are you crying for them too? [ It's a murmur, not entirely meant to be heard. ] Then I won't say the usual words. Someone should cry for them.
[ It may not be meant to be heard, but her words reach the ears of the Hydro Dragon. He so badly wants to reach out and hold her but propriety is what stops him from acting on that urge; all he can do this let those stray raindrops flow from the heavens, only holding back enough to keep his emotions from manifesting into a heavy downpour. This poor woman has gone through so much today, he's not going to make it worse by letting her become completely soaked. ]
Their lives and your loss deserve to be mourned.
[ It's spoken just as quietly as the two begin to walk toward Poisson, Neuvillette matching his pace to her shorter strides. He considers what he can do to make the coming days easier for her. A personal monetary contribution toward rebuilding, maybe? The Palais will of course send relief and aid, but given the bureaucratic inefficiency in this country a personal donation would be considerable faster than waiting for the state to deliver on its obligations. ]
[ Neuvillette is not the only one of them allowing himself to be guided by propriety. With how tired and emotional she is, every last part of her wants to press into him, to let him hold her longer than she should by rights ask; instead, she moves along at his side until they find their way back to Poisson.
And with a broken heart she looks over her fallen kingdom, mostly void of people while the Spina and Fatui work together to secure the boundaries, to make sure it's as safe as it can be under the circumstances.
She wants to weep all over again, but she refuses to let herself cave to it. She tightens her grip on her umbrella, as if to seek something to help her maintain contact with the ground when she feels as if the tides of her emotion want to tear her away. ]
...Thank you, Monsieur Neuvillete. For... for everything, today.
[ It's not much of a farewell. But Navia hasn't known what to say for quite a while, now. ]
[ Although Neuvillette can't see the entirety of Poisson from where he's standing near the entrance, what he does see is heart-wrenching—homes have been destroyed and large pieces of metal debris litter the streets. The townspeople look absolutely miserable but push through their grief for the sake of helping the injured to the shelters set up outside by the House of Hearth. ]
When you can, try to get some rest. [ He says, quietly. ] The Palais will send aid to the residents of Poisson as soon as possible.
[ And with that, the two of them part ways. The next day, a bag containing 25 million Mora appears on Spina di Rosula's doorstep with a note that reads "from an anonymous benefactor." A small contribution to help provide the residents with food and medical supplies until official aid comes.
Then, a lot of things happen in the span of less than two weeks. Furina being brought to trial, accused of being a fraud. A giant narwhal, emerging in the middle of said trial. Childe appearing in the pursuit of said narwhal. Focalors revealing her plan to him; a centuries-long plot to technically fulfill the prophecy while exploiting loopholes to ensure her people would be saved—and then the sword drops and the Seven permanently become the Six. No one is dissolved when the prophesized flood comes, and no one drowns either as Neuvillette temporarily grants everyone the ability to breathe underwater like Vision holders do.
Time passes. It's probably going to take years before everything is fully rebuilt, but reconstruction is going as smoothly as it possibly can and for most people, life has started to return to what can almost be described as normal.
Today is the day of the memorial service for those who lost their lives in the tragedy of Poisson. Although their dissolved bodies can never be recovered and laid to rest, Neuvillette understands the importance of a memorial as a symbolic event to give the people some closure to their grief. A headstone for each individual victim has been installed, with Melus and Silvers having theirs next to Callas' grave.
The service is quiet, but well-attended. Neuvillette does his best to keep the dark clouds from forming overhead; rain might be appropriate for the occasion, but he doesn't want to leave everyone soaked and chilled to the bone on top of grieving. Every once in a while, he glances at Navia with a touch of concern to his gaze. How is he holding up, after everything?
Eventually, the service comes to a close and the crowd begins to disperse—and soon, the Iudex and Navia are the only people remaining. ]
[ Neuvillette can't fool Navia. When a bag with 25 million Mora shows up on her doorstep, the day after he said the Palais would send aid, she knows exactly where it's come from. But how is she meant to find the time to thank him when everything goes so wildly crazy within the days that follow? The prophecy comes true, but everyone survives for reasons Navia still doesn't entirely understand— so many things happened in a single flash of light, and she's still trying to process what little she saw— and then comes the time to rebuild, until finally things are starting to feel right again.
So they hold a memorial. She speaks, and she smiles gently, and she comforts, and she hates every last moment of it, but she does what has to be done so that the people can have their closure. Florent stays close by, ready to offer support if she needs it, and she feels now and then the gentle eyes of the Iudex, but she makes it through every last moment standing tall and proud, even as the crowd's dispersion is so painfully slow she wants to scream.
But soon she is alone— well, alone except for the Iudex himself. And in part, she is sure he's remained only to confirm her own wellbeing, but after so many others have sought her attention today, she can't quite help the way she offers him her more business-like smile, hiding her own exhaustion and grief under a gentle, kind mask. ]
Monsieur Neuvillette, thank you for attending the memorial. I know it meant a lot to the people of Poisson.
[ It meant a lot to her, too, but this is not the right time nor place for her own feelings, she thinks. ]
Was there something you wished to speak with me about?
[ The crowd thins until there are only a handful of people left, and eventually the others begin to leave as well, leaving the two alone amid gravestones and buried bodies. Above them, the sky looks like a well-used rag, mottled with gray clouds streaking the cold blue; the kind that may or may not portend rain. Most of the grave markers around them are in relatively good condition but some of the older ones are askew, leaning this way and that in a losing struggle to maintain a semblance of dignity.
Twigs and dry leaves crunch beneath the Iudex's boots as he steps over to where Navia is, inclining his head slightly in acknowledgement when he comes to stand in front of her. He's not wearing his usual intricate garb today, having opted to wear a dark suit appropriate for a funeral. ]
I wanted to ask how you are faring. [ He's... reasonably certain that she must be tired of being asked this by now, but he wants to know. ] Far too many things have happened in such a short amount of time.
[ Yes, a great deal of things have happened all at once. Between the tragedy in Poisson, the flood that affected all of Fontaine— even if it ended up so much better than it could have— and then the attempted destruction of her beloved home, the effort by a man she counted as a friend to try and murder her—
She's so, so tired.
And as always, he sees right through her, asks how she is despite the mask she wears for everyone else. It makes her smile quiver on her lips for a moment; she manages to hold it, but only just, and the breath that slips from between her lips is shaky and weak. ]
A lot has happened, [ she agrees, and it's not that she's trying to avoid the question, it's just that if she answers him truthfully, she's afraid she might start to cry all over again. ] So much so that I've not had the chance to thank you. Not only for the aid from the Palais, but... the mora you sent by yourself, too. [ Though she has no idea how he possibly had so much to spare, and she dare not ask. ] It has helped us more than I can say, so... thank you.
Ah, was it that obvious...? [ The Iudex says, lifting one hand to rub at the back of his neck. He did say the Palais would send aid, but he had meant it in an official capacity as the state providing for its citizens in need. That the young woman isn't actually answering his question doesn't go unnoticed, but he can't quite tell if that's a deliberate choice on her part.
He decides not to push it further, gaze fixed on her face as though trying to ascertain how she's feeling behind that smile she puts on. ]
There is really no need to thank me; I only wanted to make sure Poisson would be able to get the food and medical supplies it needed without having to wait for the bureaucratic wheels to turn.
[ The Palais had approved and sent aid to those affected within the week, but he considers that an unacceptable waiting period given the circumstances; people had lost their homes and livelihoods and it's almost embarrassing that the House of Hearth stepped in to help faster than the state could. The people of Fontaine like to joke about how the only certainties in life are death, taxes, and inefficient bureaucracy, but recent events have made things clear: the system must be streamlined and modernized. And that's what Neuvillette intends to do over the next decade now that he is the sole leader of the nation. ]
It was only obvious because of how quick it was. And it's still more than we could have asked for— more than we had any dream of asking for. There is simply no way to tell you how grateful the people were, Monsieur. You say you have no need of thanks, but... I think the people of Poisson would argue quite strongly against that fact. We lost so much—
[ and here, his careful gaze will no doubt catch the way her own expression falters, cracking over the thought of what she personally has lost, who she personally has lacked the proper time to grieve ]
—but your choice made it so we could get assistance immediately. No one expected that. Least of all me.
[ After all, has she not been fooled more than once now by the Iudex's apparent indifference? In this case, he acted personally so that he would not have to break rules— in and of itself, surely an act of bending them at the very least.
She takes a steadying breath, and offers him a small smile. ]
It seems I would need to spend time preparing more gifts of thanks for you. Not that there is anything even close to grand enough to express my sincerity.
[ It doesn't go unnoticed, no. In that brief second, he wonders if she had at all given herself the chance to properly process the unthinkable grief foisted upon her shoulders since their previous conversation. He can only hope that the memorial service will help ease her burdens somewhat by giving her a sense of closure after everything. ]
I do not need anything grand, Mademoiselle. [ Or anything at all, really, as he doesn't think it's necessary to come up with a gift for him; he was simply doing what was right and acted as any good leader should for his people. But he's come to understand that he can't simply decline when she clearly wants to express her thanks in this manner and if he said "No, you don't have to get me anything" she would surely reply with something along the lines of "No, I insist." ]
A box of macarons is enough to convey your gratitude; I particularly liked the ones with smoked salmon.
[ The truth of it is that no, she hasn't had the time to grieve, and while Neuvillette notices, his choice not to say anything is taken by her as a successful pass through. That's all she needs for now.
Or so she thinks. That expression which faltered is bound to falter again, especially as the Chief Justice tells her that he would gladly accept a box of macarons from her, mentioning specifically the smoked salmon ones she invented for him shortly before everything went wrong.
She smiles, and reaches out to put a hand on his wrist, glad that he accepts her offer without hesitation. It gives her something else to think about, something that isn't the tragedy— ]
I am glad you enjoyed them, Monsieur Neuvillette. They took a lot of trial and error! Managing the sugar so that the crust would properly form, yet still ensuring that the savory ingredients were the only thing you could taste... I think I went through four batches before I found the perfect recipe. And the second batch was awful; poor Silver, I think I saw him turn green—
[ Alas, her attempt to talk herself through her feelings is wont to fail. Navia falls abruptly silent halfway into her sentence about Silver, and her expression falters once more. ]
and he—
[ This time, though, it doesn't recover. Navia's countenance dissolves into something stricken, and a twin pair of tears rush down her cheeks unbidden as she looks away. ]
[ Neuvillette had been able to hold it in throughout the memorial service because he didn't want the manifestation of his grief to leave everyone drenched and cold. The skies had been an unyielding expanse of gray as if reflecting everyone's mood, but there hadn't been a single raindrop in sight—until now. As soon as the Iudex catches sight of those tears rolling down Navia's cheeks, the clouds above their heads darken to an ominous charcoal and the metaphorical dam breaks like a wooden door being kicked in.
Thick droplets of rain begin to pour down from the heavens, hitting the ground with such force that some of them ricochet several inches upward. Neuvillette says nothing, waiting for her reaction to the sudden shift in the weather; the Traveler had figured out his identity with ease, and it would be an insult to Navia's intelligence to assume she won't figure out the truth with the evidence literally falling down from above. ]
[ How embarrassing. She's been trying so hard to keep herself together, trying so desperately not to involve those men she loved so dearly in her thoughts, and yet that thought of Silver catches her so horribly off-guard that she can't help but to weep, hands coming to her face as she tries in vain to hide her tears.
And then the skies open in the most violent, bitter of downpours, and Navia's sobs are lost in the wash of the rain, her eyes wide and her hands falling to her sides as she looks to the charcoal of the clouds and to the violence of their tears finding earth only to bounce away once more. She's drenched within the instant, and she turns to Neuvillette to comment her surprise—
Only to see the look on his face, pensive and drawn, eyes half on her and half on the sky—
And in an instant, she knows. ]
Don't cry.
[ It's a whisper, as she closes the space between them, reaches up without thinking to brush invisible tears from his cheeks the way a nanny might have for her when she was younger. ]
[ Neuvillette's heart thumps like a moth beating its life away around a streetlight as he watches the realization settle across the other's features; it's not like he thinks she will take it poorly or anything of the sort, yet he cannot help but feel a little nervous. How odd, he didn't feel this way when the Traveler had figured it out in similar circumstances... then she gets closer, bridging the distance between them before he can even properly react, those soft fingers of hers touching his cheek so tenderly. ]
....I...I'll try not to.
[ Try is the best he can manage. The Hydro Dragon has wept almost daily for hundreds of years, grieving for the sorrows of the world, for a species that keeps finding new ways to be cruel to itself—for someone who struggles with understanding his emotion, he feels them deeply, like the ebb and flow of the tides.
He exhales a shaky breath, closing his eyes. The rain begins to lessen in its downpour. ]
Her fingers stay against his cheek as the rain slows its fall, continuing to stroke and caress against his skin. It's something that she's quite sure she shouldn't be doing, but now that she's started, she finds that she can't quite seem to stop.
(It's been quite some time since she's touched someone just for the sake of touching them, hasn't it?)
But even as she continues her gentle touches, realizations are coming one after another to her mind, the moments falling into place like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle easily slotted together now that the frame is in the right spot. ]
You cried for him, didn't you? All that time, I thought you didn't care at all, but...
[ She feels ashamed, thinking back to it. That day in his office, accusing him of lacking feelings at all... ]
[ Inclining his head, Neuvillette leans into the touch somewhat, the warmth of her hand against his skin a soothing balm of sorts. The rain lightens a little more, now closer to a particularly heavy drizzle compared to the violent downpour it had been moments ago.
Him. The memory of that day resurfaces, how he had thought that there was something amiss with the case; Callas had been a great man in many aspects and had even been offered the title of Baron at one point, which he refused. It didn't make sense to him that someone who had consistently showed good character would suddenly take someone's life.
Yet he had allowed the duel to proceed and Callas knew death awaited him as he stood before Clorinde. ]
I did. [ He says, quietly, eyes opening once more. ] You didn't know.
[ He does not fault her for her words back then; they had cut him deeply, but he finds that he was deserving of every single one for having failed her. For failing to stop that duel. ]
[ Even as Neuvillette expresses his confirmation, acknowledges that Navia didn't know the truth of her accusations, the woman stands there in the rain, having not thought once of putting her umbrella up for the two of them. Instead, she's in a quiet sort of shock, pieces continuing to put themselves together even as she tries to process those she already understands. And her fingers, yet resting against his cheek, still in their movements, blue eyes widening even as they fill with tears. ]
And then... that day in your office. After I.. after I said those horrid things. It rained again. You...
[ But wherefore did he weep? Was it for the knowledge that she did not yet share? Or was it for the cruel barbs aimed at him from her lips? ]
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sempiternals2023-09-04 12:13 am
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You're welcome, Mademoiselle. [ He replies, a neutral quality to his voice as he continues while he keeps his gaze affixed to what he can see of her face. He would've missed that slight tremble to her lip if he wasn't paying more attention to her body language. ] They're still working to establish whether he was aware that it would have dissolved you, but given that he's Fontainian I find it hard to believe that he wasn't at least given some sort of warning to handle it with utmost care.
[ Apparently he had confessed during questioning to having tampered with her drink, but swore that it's all he's guilty of because he wasn't told what would happen. Which, to Neuvillette, sounds like a pathetic attempt to only be charged with a lesser crime that will get him a more lenient punishment now that he's been cornered with no way out of the metaphorical noose tightening around his neck. ]
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And yet—
There's no doubting that her face has gone rather pale as she reaches a steadying hand to his desk, trying to keep herself upright as she sets determined sapphire eyes on his face. ]
Monsieur Neuvillette, I rather think I might need to sit down for a spell.
[ —Is what she tells him, before her trembling legs cave underneath her and she finds herself doing just that: sitting abruptly, painfully on the floor. ]
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Eyes widening a little, he quickly rises to his feet, the chair scraping from the force of it. With hurried steps he rounds the desk to find her sitting on the floor; mildly worrying, but at least she hasn't lost consciousness like he had initially feared.
Offering a hand, he helps her up onto her feet and gingerly puts an arm around her back for support as he leads her over to the aforementioned couch. ]
Do you need a glass of water, Mademoiselle?
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She nods. ]
Yes, monsieur, please. [ Her voice is faint. ] I apologize— I am not quite sure what came over me.
[ It's a lie— she is sure. But she doesn't want to admit the truth of the matter, that she's gone to her knees over her anxieties and fears about what could have happened. ]
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[ With a nod, Neuvillette steps away to the glass cabinet on the other side of his office that looks like it's for wine but is actually for the storage of bottles his favourite water. He doesn't bother trying to think of what she might best from his collection and simply takes one at random—sourced from Sumeru's Lokapala Jungle—and pours its contents into one of his finely crafted chalices until it's about three-fourths full before returning to the young lady on the couch. ]
Here. [ He says, offering her the chalice. ] Could it be stress that brought this on?
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...Thank you. [ It's said when the chalice is mostly emptied, though she continues to hold it gently between both hands, lest the faintness try to claw its way back to where it can overtake her once more.
And frankly, she doesn't want to talk about it, lest in her weakness she admit the truth behind her sudden spell— but Neuvillette gives her an out, one she takes gladly with a nod. ]
I think that is likely the case, yes. There has been... a great deal going on, of late.
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Please rest here until you feel steady enough to walk unaided. Is there anything else I can get for you?
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So she smiles, shakes her head again as if to emphasize the reassurance she aims to give him. ]
No, Monsieur. Thank you, but I do not wish to impose myself any further upon your kindness. I am all too aware of how busy your schedule is; once my strength is recovered, I will be on my way. I will be fine—
—there is no need to concern yourself on my account.
[ The words come out weaker than Navia would like. The two of them are barely out of the Traveler's eyesight when Neuvillette asks after her, and it's all she can do not to collapse on the spot in an echo of that time mere weeks ago in the Iudex's office. Back then, she could think only of getting home, of inviting her closest companions on a walk so that she may put her worries behind her.
She can't do that today.
Melus and Silver will never walk with her again.
No— No, she mustn't think like that. One foot in front of the other. She will walk home, she will speak to the men she has stationed there still, she will see what else needs yet to be done. She will focus on that, on moving forward, on fixing those things needing to be fixed. Just like her Papa would have done.
One foot, then the other. ]
Thank you, Monsieur. I will be fine from here. I—
[ Navia bursts into tears. ]
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Several lives have been lost to those ancient waters; not quite dead in the usual sense of the word, perhaps, but most would not consider being melded together into a singular entity without individuality to be truly alive. What happened at Poisson is a tragedy, a dark reminder of the many more lives that will be swept away if they don't find a way to avert the preordained fate... and with no apparent solution in sight, Neuvillette's frustration grows with each passing moment. He wishes he could have done something, he wishes he had the power that the Usurper tore from his grasp so many eons ago; then none of this would be happening and he would not be feeling the twinge he feels stabbing into his crystalline heart at the sight of Navia's grief. ]
I don't think you will, Mademoiselle. [ He says, his voice a soft whisper yet carries a weight beyond its volume. ] Please allow yourself to process what you are feeling.
[ He probably should not be giving advice on emotional matters, but he can't just say nothing... ]
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But as it stands now, her heart is aching with cold, broken and shattered at her feet. Her legs tremble; her arms quake. How is she meant to move forward when she no longer remembers how to walk?
She needs somewhere to sit, lest her legs cave like they did on that day in his office. But they are standing at the water's edge, and the only things around are rocks, and...
Navia closes her eyes, breathes through the tears, tries to process the onrush of thoughts. ]
You— Monsieur Neuvillette, you saved me back there. [ She pushes aside the knowledge of
Melus and Silverthe pair of Oceanids that protected her for long enough for him to do so— If she thinks on them, she'll break— and focuses instead on the events that occurred outside of her realm of awareness. ] I would have been dissolved, and— and the people of Poisson would have no one to help them anymore.[ Is she processing her feelings? Yes. Is she processing the feelings she should be processing? Most certainly not. ]
So... thank you.
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Poisson needs you, but you mustn't ignore your feelings. [ He says, quietly, his voice gentle like the waves lapping the shore at their feet, yet also tinged with an undertone of gravity. He feels way out of his depth and isn't even sure there's anything appropriate to say here, but something in him compels him to make the effort anyway even if he's likely going to stumble when it comes to matters of the human heart. ]
I think... if you don't allow yourself to address everything you're feeling, it'll eventually come out at an inopportune time.
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But Neuvillette yet has words to speak, encourages her to address her feelings even as she tries to run from them—
and he's right, she knows he is
—and Navia's eyes close as fresh tears slip from them, and as her legs tremble under her, she turns into him after all, shaking fingers twining in the fabric of his long, elegant robe. ]
They're gone, [ she whispers, and her voice breaks on the words. ] I didn't even have the chance to say goodbye, and they're gone. Just like—
[ The tears run down her cheeks, and she takes a faltering step into him, face pressing into his shoulder in spite of her earlier resolution to stay strong and put together. ]
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He takes a deep breath, relaxing somewhat. His hands hover awkwardly over her shoulders for a moment, then puts his arms around her in a loose embrace—one that's easy to pull away from if there is any discomfort. ]
Mortal lives are unfairly cut short, sometimes. [ He whispers, softly. ] ...I don't think there's anything I can say to ease your grief, Mademoiselle, but I will be here for as long as you need it.
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I— I'm sorry. Truthfully, we— we do not have time for that, Monsieur, we... we are in a race against the clock...
[ Despite saying as much, she stays close, trying to breathe through her tears. She can't quite help herself. His hold, his soft voice, even the scent of him somehow serves as a comfort, soothes the feeling of her trembling, quaking legs that otherwise are trying to give out on her. She shouldn't lean on him so much. He has already done so much. He saved her, he—
Navia sucks in a breath, taking a shaking step back from him. ]
I'm sorry.
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...I understand. [ When she moves to pull away, part of him wants to pull her back and keep her close. But he ignores that part of him, dropping his arms from around her as she steps back. ]
But please let me accompany you back to Poisson, at least.
[ From above, a few stray raindrops fall and hit the brim of Navia's hat; not the kind that heralds an approaching downpour, but rather the equivalent of an errant teardrop escaping to drift the length of the dragon's cheek. ]
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She looks up to him, and nods. ]
Y-yes, that would be fine.
[ She swipes a hand across her lashes, catching the tears in the lacy fabric of her glove, but in the same moment she feels something hitting against her hat, and she frowns— all Fontainians recognize the feel of raindrops— eyes tracking briefly to the sky. ]
Are you crying for them too? [ It's a murmur, not entirely meant to be heard. ] Then I won't say the usual words. Someone should cry for them.
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Their lives and your loss deserve to be mourned.
[ It's spoken just as quietly as the two begin to walk toward Poisson, Neuvillette matching his pace to her shorter strides. He considers what he can do to make the coming days easier for her. A personal monetary contribution toward rebuilding, maybe? The Palais will of course send relief and aid, but given the bureaucratic inefficiency in this country a personal donation would be considerable faster than waiting for the state to deliver on its obligations. ]
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And with a broken heart she looks over her fallen kingdom, mostly void of people while the Spina and Fatui work together to secure the boundaries, to make sure it's as safe as it can be under the circumstances.
She wants to weep all over again, but she refuses to let herself cave to it. She tightens her grip on her umbrella, as if to seek something to help her maintain contact with the ground when she feels as if the tides of her emotion want to tear her away. ]
...Thank you, Monsieur Neuvillete. For... for everything, today.
[ It's not much of a farewell. But Navia hasn't known what to say for quite a while, now. ]
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When you can, try to get some rest. [ He says, quietly. ] The Palais will send aid to the residents of Poisson as soon as possible.
[ And with that, the two of them part ways. The next day, a bag containing 25 million Mora appears on Spina di Rosula's doorstep with a note that reads "from an anonymous benefactor." A small contribution to help provide the residents with food and medical supplies until official aid comes.
Then, a lot of things happen in the span of less than two weeks. Furina being brought to trial, accused of being a fraud. A giant narwhal, emerging in the middle of said trial. Childe appearing in the pursuit of said narwhal. Focalors revealing her plan to him; a centuries-long plot to technically fulfill the prophecy while exploiting loopholes to ensure her people would be saved—and then the sword drops and the Seven permanently become the Six. No one is dissolved when the prophesized flood comes, and no one drowns either as Neuvillette temporarily grants everyone the ability to breathe underwater like Vision holders do.
Time passes. It's probably going to take years before everything is fully rebuilt, but reconstruction is going as smoothly as it possibly can and for most people, life has started to return to what can almost be described as normal.
Today is the day of the memorial service for those who lost their lives in the tragedy of Poisson. Although their dissolved bodies can never be recovered and laid to rest, Neuvillette understands the importance of a memorial as a symbolic event to give the people some closure to their grief. A headstone for each individual victim has been installed, with Melus and Silvers having theirs next to Callas' grave.
The service is quiet, but well-attended. Neuvillette does his best to keep the dark clouds from forming overhead; rain might be appropriate for the occasion, but he doesn't want to leave everyone soaked and chilled to the bone on top of grieving. Every once in a while, he glances at Navia with a touch of concern to his gaze. How is he holding up, after everything?
Eventually, the service comes to a close and the crowd begins to disperse—and soon, the Iudex and Navia are the only people remaining. ]
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So they hold a memorial. She speaks, and she smiles gently, and she comforts, and she hates every last moment of it, but she does what has to be done so that the people can have their closure. Florent stays close by, ready to offer support if she needs it, and she feels now and then the gentle eyes of the Iudex, but she makes it through every last moment standing tall and proud, even as the crowd's dispersion is so painfully slow she wants to scream.
But soon she is alone— well, alone except for the Iudex himself. And in part, she is sure he's remained only to confirm her own wellbeing, but after so many others have sought her attention today, she can't quite help the way she offers him her more business-like smile, hiding her own exhaustion and grief under a gentle, kind mask. ]
Monsieur Neuvillette, thank you for attending the memorial. I know it meant a lot to the people of Poisson.
[ It meant a lot to her, too, but this is not the right time nor place for her own feelings, she thinks. ]
Was there something you wished to speak with me about?
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Twigs and dry leaves crunch beneath the Iudex's boots as he steps over to where Navia is, inclining his head slightly in acknowledgement when he comes to stand in front of her. He's not wearing his usual intricate garb today, having opted to wear a dark suit appropriate for a funeral. ]
I wanted to ask how you are faring. [ He's... reasonably certain that she must be tired of being asked this by now, but he wants to know. ] Far too many things have happened in such a short amount of time.
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[ Yes, a great deal of things have happened all at once. Between the tragedy in Poisson, the flood that affected all of Fontaine— even if it ended up so much better than it could have— and then the attempted destruction of her beloved home, the effort by a man she counted as a friend to try and murder her—
She's so, so tired.
And as always, he sees right through her, asks how she is despite the mask she wears for everyone else. It makes her smile quiver on her lips for a moment; she manages to hold it, but only just, and the breath that slips from between her lips is shaky and weak. ]
A lot has happened, [ she agrees, and it's not that she's trying to avoid the question, it's just that if she answers him truthfully, she's afraid she might start to cry all over again. ] So much so that I've not had the chance to thank you. Not only for the aid from the Palais, but... the mora you sent by yourself, too. [ Though she has no idea how he possibly had so much to spare, and she dare not ask. ] It has helped us more than I can say, so... thank you.
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He decides not to push it further, gaze fixed on her face as though trying to ascertain how she's feeling behind that smile she puts on. ]
There is really no need to thank me; I only wanted to make sure Poisson would be able to get the food and medical supplies it needed without having to wait for the bureaucratic wheels to turn.
[ The Palais had approved and sent aid to those affected within the week, but he considers that an unacceptable waiting period given the circumstances; people had lost their homes and livelihoods and it's almost embarrassing that the House of Hearth stepped in to help faster than the state could. The people of Fontaine like to joke about how the only certainties in life are death, taxes, and inefficient bureaucracy, but recent events have made things clear: the system must be streamlined and modernized. And that's what Neuvillette intends to do over the next decade now that he is the sole leader of the nation. ]
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[ and here, his careful gaze will no doubt catch the way her own expression falters, cracking over the thought of what she personally has lost, who she personally has lacked the proper time to grieve ]
—but your choice made it so we could get assistance immediately. No one expected that. Least of all me.
[ After all, has she not been fooled more than once now by the Iudex's apparent indifference? In this case, he acted personally so that he would not have to break rules— in and of itself, surely an act of bending them at the very least.
She takes a steadying breath, and offers him a small smile. ]
It seems I would need to spend time preparing more gifts of thanks for you. Not that there is anything even close to grand enough to express my sincerity.
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I do not need anything grand, Mademoiselle. [ Or anything at all, really, as he doesn't think it's necessary to come up with a gift for him; he was simply doing what was right and acted as any good leader should for his people. But he's come to understand that he can't simply decline when she clearly wants to express her thanks in this manner and if he said "No, you don't have to get me anything" she would surely reply with something along the lines of "No, I insist." ]
A box of macarons is enough to convey your gratitude; I particularly liked the ones with smoked salmon.
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Or so she thinks. That expression which faltered is bound to falter again, especially as the Chief Justice tells her that he would gladly accept a box of macarons from her, mentioning specifically the smoked salmon ones she invented for him shortly before everything went wrong.
She smiles, and reaches out to put a hand on his wrist, glad that he accepts her offer without hesitation. It gives her something else to think about, something that isn't the tragedy— ]
I am glad you enjoyed them, Monsieur Neuvillette. They took a lot of trial and error! Managing the sugar so that the crust would properly form, yet still ensuring that the savory ingredients were the only thing you could taste... I think I went through four batches before I found the perfect recipe. And the second batch was awful; poor Silver, I think I saw him turn green—
[ Alas, her attempt to talk herself through her feelings is wont to fail. Navia falls abruptly silent halfway into her sentence about Silver, and her expression falters once more. ]
and he—
[ This time, though, it doesn't recover. Navia's countenance dissolves into something stricken, and a twin pair of tears rush down her cheeks unbidden as she looks away. ]
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Thick droplets of rain begin to pour down from the heavens, hitting the ground with such force that some of them ricochet several inches upward. Neuvillette says nothing, waiting for her reaction to the sudden shift in the weather; the Traveler had figured out his identity with ease, and it would be an insult to Navia's intelligence to assume she won't figure out the truth with the evidence literally falling down from above. ]
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And then the skies open in the most violent, bitter of downpours, and Navia's sobs are lost in the wash of the rain, her eyes wide and her hands falling to her sides as she looks to the charcoal of the clouds and to the violence of their tears finding earth only to bounce away once more. She's drenched within the instant, and she turns to Neuvillette to comment her surprise—
Only to see the look on his face, pensive and drawn, eyes half on her and half on the sky—
And in an instant, she knows. ]
Don't cry.
[ It's a whisper, as she closes the space between them, reaches up without thinking to brush invisible tears from his cheeks the way a nanny might have for her when she was younger. ]
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....I...I'll try not to.
[ Try is the best he can manage. The Hydro Dragon has wept almost daily for hundreds of years, grieving for the sorrows of the world, for a species that keeps finding new ways to be cruel to itself—for someone who struggles with understanding his emotion, he feels them deeply, like the ebb and flow of the tides.
He exhales a shaky breath, closing his eyes. The rain begins to lessen in its downpour. ]
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Navia thinks she can accept that.
Her fingers stay against his cheek as the rain slows its fall, continuing to stroke and caress against his skin. It's something that she's quite sure she shouldn't be doing, but now that she's started, she finds that she can't quite seem to stop.
(It's been quite some time since she's touched someone just for the sake of touching them, hasn't it?)
But even as she continues her gentle touches, realizations are coming one after another to her mind, the moments falling into place like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle easily slotted together now that the frame is in the right spot. ]
You cried for him, didn't you? All that time, I thought you didn't care at all, but...
[ She feels ashamed, thinking back to it. That day in his office, accusing him of lacking feelings at all... ]
I'm so terribly sorry.
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Him. The memory of that day resurfaces, how he had thought that there was something amiss with the case; Callas had been a great man in many aspects and had even been offered the title of Baron at one point, which he refused. It didn't make sense to him that someone who had consistently showed good character would suddenly take someone's life.
Yet he had allowed the duel to proceed and Callas knew death awaited him as he stood before Clorinde. ]
I did. [ He says, quietly, eyes opening once more. ] You didn't know.
[ He does not fault her for her words back then; they had cut him deeply, but he finds that he was deserving of every single one for having failed her. For failing to stop that duel. ]
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And then... that day in your office. After I.. after I said those horrid things. It rained again. You...
[ But wherefore did he weep? Was it for the knowledge that she did not yet share? Or was it for the cruel barbs aimed at him from her lips? ]
...I'm sorry. If I hurt you.