" even the sun is soft on the eyes "
✧ swimming with them at different times of day
✧ lyney, lynette, arlecchino ; fluff; it was supposed to have childe and freminent but i ran out of steam T.T
lyney has a pyro vision, you know that; so his affinity for water must be nothing more than yet another magic trick. it doesn’t help that the golden sun, hanging high in the sky, practically blinds you with its light. when he flicks his hand and a spray from the river goes flying into your eyes, you consider dunking him if he likes it so much.
“stop splashing me,” you protest, swatting him on the arm. “aren’t you supposed to be looking for rainbow lilies, or whatever?”
“rainbow roses,” he corrects, wading through the river. his boots are on the bank and his pants are rolled up to his knees, but the vaguely expensive-looking fabric is already drenched, the stain spreading. he barely seems to notice, turning to you as he steps backward. “and if you aren’t gonna get in the water, then i’ll bring the water to – ”
and then he’s gone with a massive splash, and you start laughing as you watch the flailing mass that’s his not-quite-able-to-swim self sink to the bottom of the river. and then you stop laughing and remember that oh yeah, he’s not quite able to swim. and then you start panicking and dive after him.
the water is freezing. it’s the hottest day you’ve had in ages but the deeper you swim, the colder it gets, goosebumps pricking up your arms that you’re barely able to see. you blink the blurriness from your eyes, chasing after lyney, who’s kicking furiously but still sinking with the weight of the heavy cape-thing trailing from his waistcoat.
he doesn’t look nervous or even slightly concerned yet. in truth, he could probably snap his fingers and magic himself back onto the riverbank. it’s ridiculous, but you can’t just swim away. at the very least, lynette would kill you.
he opens his mouth and a bunch of bubbles stream up towards the surface. his teeth gleam in the pale blue light. he seems to be able to see the scowl on your face, eyes crinkling; a school of gleaming silver fish whirls between you, and when it disappears, he’s on the bottom of the river, scraping into a gently waving anemone.
you want to shout what are you doing? but your voice won’t make any noise, much less travel to where he is, while in the water. you punch the water wildly, connecting with a fish exactly as lyney looks up. it squeals, darts away, and he looks at you like you’re a monster. you throw your hands up, floating in place for a moment, before paddling towards him again.
he’s still pawing through the fronds of a glowing mushroom-looking thing. you can see the shining blue powder collecting under his fingernails from where you are. he looks like he’s walking along the bottom, one hand clapped over his mouth and the other clenched on a rock to keep him anchored. you scoff, bubbles escaping your lips, and kick towards the bottom.
“hey!” you hear him exclaim, though it’s more like a garbled shout than an actual word as you link one arm through his, tugging him away from the plants. this deep, it’s like you’ve plunged into a bathtub full of ice cubes. you have no idea how he’s dealing with the cold. “i’m – ”
the rest of it is lost in bubbles as you brace your legs against the sandy floor, pushing downwards as hard as you can, and you go rocketing towards the sky. he makes some protesting noise, trying to wrestle out of your grip, but you hold on tightly. he would sink like a rock, and then you would have to fight him to come up again. you want to roll your eyes, but… you can’t force yourself to be annoyed. not really.
you realize his vision is emanating heat. the longer he clings to your arm, the more warmth spreads through you. the river feels less like an ice cube, more like a hot spring. under his puffy sleeves, you can just barely feel his skin, as hot as a fire. if you held on for too long, you might get burned.
but right now, it’s okay. right here, when it’s just you and him.
“i was doing fine,” is the first thing lyney says when his head breaks the surface. you let him go and swim a few feet away. he shakes droplets out of his hair, spraying in a circle; you can’t complain this time since you’re soaking wet too. it’s all you can do not to push him back under. “and i got a bunch of them!”
“your sister would steal a gardemek and run me over if i just let you sink down there.” you glare at him, crossing your arms as you find a place to stand, feet barely scraping the underwater grass. “i’ve seriously had enough of you – how can you possibly live in fontaine and not know how to swim? and a bunch of what?”
he digs in his coat, opening his mouth then closing it, a look of panic passing over his face. “w-wait – there’s no way i dropped it as i was coming up, right? after all that work?” he pats down his pockets, eyes going wide as plates. “i think i really did… oh, how could this happen! and i was so proud of myself, too.”
despite yourself, your face softens. even if you’re annoyed, you have to feel bad at his rapidly mounting dismay. “what did you lose? i can go get it for you, if it’s that important.”
his gaze whisks to you and you see the corner of his mouth turn up. he reaches towards you, scanning the water and the air around your face as you tilt your head up. “just – wait, i think i see it… aha!” he flicks the wet hair away from your temple and pulls a rainbow rose, shimmering and delicate, from behind your ear. “there it is.”
“you – ” you’re speechless, heat creeping up your neck. “where the hell… ”
“a magician never reveals his secrets, etcetera etcetera.” lyney winks at you, peeling back his sleeve, and a whole pile of flowers falls into the water, bobbing there. the colors are iridescent, gleaming and fantastical. they looks like magic. though, maybe it’s not fair to compare them to magic, not when he’s right there.
you search for words for a long moment. it’s harder than you would think, with his eyes on you. he shifts his weight forward, displacing the roses in the water. “... you know, you’re supposed to do that trick with a coin.”
lyney clicks his tongue. “i thought you’d have figured out by now that i don’t do things the conventional way, my lovely.” the name makes your heart beat a bit faster. you swallow. he offers you the first rose and lifts his eyebrows. “go on, you can have it. put it in a vase and think of me whenever you see it.”
“as if i need a reminder to think of you,” you mumble, taking it and rolling it between your hands. he seems not to hear you, humming as he turns, dragging the tips of his fingers through the surface. the petals are soft, yellow stamen dripping with a thick, sweet scented nectar. “but this is nice too, i guess.”
you sit on the beach, gazing at lynette through your sunglasses as she skips through the grass a little while away. her boots don’t sink into the ground, moving like she’s lighter than air, despite the sun-softened, slightly damp earth; the tides washing up gently on the sand don’t seem to have any effect on it, either. or maybe she’s not really touching the ground at all.
she bends, scoops a glittering silver shell out of the water and pockets it. the water drips through the gauzy fabric of her leotard, and she twirls in place, skirt spinning out. water droplets spray in a circle, carrying through the air in a sudden breeze. she looks towards the horizon, seeming to watch the grass and trees sway in the wind.
“hey,” you call out. “come here a second.” her ears twitch in your direction and she approaches you, tilting her head down. her hair blows gently back and forth, carrying the sweet scent of peaches and mint towards you, like a fragrant tea. you wouldn’t be surprised if that really was a flavor of tea she had been drinking earlier; you need to tell her sometimes to quit overdoing the caffeine. too often you’ve found her after midnight, reading with bags under her eyes and a teapot emptied ten times over.
she sits down and you slide your sunglasses onto her head, pushing them down over her eyes. her tail twitches. “what are you doing?”
“you shouldn’t look directly at the sun,” you admonish. “i know a boy who went out every day without glasses or anything and one day he went blind just like that.” you snap your fingers on the last word. her expression doesn’t change and she doesn’t make any noise, but you feel like you can feel an aura of disapproval radiating from her. you wilt, pouting at her. “huh, no reaction?”
“you’re obviously lying,” she says plainly. “i can tell from spending so much time around lyney.”
“oh, of course,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips. you get to your feet. “come on, we’re here, so why don’t we go in the water? you know a lot of tricks, so you should show me!”
you can’t quite see lynette’s eyes through the dark sunglasses, but she shifts her weight to one side, leaning on her hip and unbuckling her boots hesitantly. “... they’re nothing special, but if you really want to see, then i guess – ”
“great!” you cheer, pumping your fist and tugging her over the ground to the shallows by the arm. you can’t help but shiver at the sudden chill, but she barely looks bothered, moving like the water doesn’t even exist. her steps are light, sending pale gold sand billowing through the waves, and she whisks away from you in an instant as though she’s dancing.
she reorients herself, facing a marble pillar edged in gold that sticks out of the water. in a matter of moments she’s submerged up to her chest, and your view of her lower body is distorted as she heads towards the pillar. you clap your hands delightedly, scanning the beach and then racing towards a nearby boat a couple feet from the shore. you scramble onto it, heaving your frame up and over the side to sit with your legs dangling into the lake.
“go, lynette!” you shout, cupping your hand by your lips to project your voice towards her. she leans her head to the side and looks at you, bright purple eyes glinting as brightly as the inside of an iridescent clamshell. the side of her mouth ticks up in a half-smile. she has your sunglasses clasped in one gloved hand and tucks them into another unseen pocket as she propels herself to the pillar.
the marble is wet and slippery and from where you’re sitting, you can’t see any cracks or bumps in the smoothly polished stone that could possibly allow her to have such a steady grip, but she climbs easily, scrambling up the side to prop her legs on the top. lynette stares out over the lake, over the city; she feels miles away, coils of hair fluttering around her face. she looks picturesque. she looks like a painting.
in a heartbeat, she’s on her feet and raising her arms over her head. you’ve seen synchronized swimmers before, with their elegant movements and expensive costumes, and her silhouette against the sun isn’t so far from theirs; with her frilled leotard, gaze sharp as needles and hands reaching towards the sky, she could be one. just another one of her many talents.
she leaps from the pillar, fingers stretched out before her, and you want to applaud. applaud before she’s even done anything. then again, being with her always feels like a performance. like a dance. here you are, barely a few meters away, and – her eyes are closed. she doesn’t see you as she plummets from the sky to the sea. it feels like there’s something between you, like if you held out your hand you would meet something solid. a wall. or a curtain.
there’s barely a splash as she plunges through the surface, tumbling into the water. she disappears in a mass of glittering white bubbles. you lose sight of her, and then she reappears, and you want to jump too, duck underwater to see her fully. to take in every bit of her.
her tail flicks behind her, hands pushing through the depths as she goes deeper, less like she’s sinking and more like she’s falling through a clear blue sky. her hair flutters like a bird soaring in the air. she looks so gorgeous, so graceful. someday she will flap her wings and fly away from you. you know that as well as you know anything. when the inevitable deadly winter comes – she will be gone.
but not yet. you can still keep your eyes on her, floating in the water. you can cup this moment and keep it close to your heart until it’s all you have left.
lynette surfaces, pushing wet hair out of her eyes, the platinum color darkened to silver. she looks exhilarated, cheeks filled with color, breaths coming fast for a moment before they slow down, returning to her usual impassivity. she looks at you, barely kicking to stay afloat. “... what’s with that look?” she asks, one eyebrow arching.
you blink, lean forward to see your reflection. it’s slightly distorted by the soft ripples, but you’re smiling, eyes sparkling. eyes wet.
“did something happen?” she asks. her tone is slightly laced with concern. it makes your throat tighten. “you look… emotional.”
you lift your head, brushing one hand over your face, avoiding her gaze. “just looking at something pretty,” you say, eyes on the horizon. “that’s all.”
arlecchino’s face is cold and stony as always, like her features have been carved out of porcelain, but you think maybe you can trick yourself into seeing a hint of affection in her dark eyes. at the very least, she hasn’t drowned you yet, though her hands have twitched a few times towards your throat when you splashed her “by accident”.
“it’s so cold,” you complain, dragging your feet through waving strands of seaweed. “it feels like winter.”
“i don’t feel anything,” arlecchino says, hands laced behind her back. her voice is even, unbothered by the temperature. her suit’s train trails through the surface of the water, silken cloth fading in and out of ice-white, bloodred and gleaming silver. she’s tired today, unable to muster any more words than what’s strictly necessary.
you tilt your head, smiling wryly as you step towards her. “probably because you’re the reason it’s cold.” it’s true, though she only blinks slowly at the remark; the water cools several degrees around her waist. you’ve made remarks before that she resembles a statue when she stands still, and now is no different – rising out of the lake with the sun setting behind her, hair gleaming like snow.
“why are we here again?” she questions. her heels are caught in the murky sand. “we both know that i’m not a swimmer.”
“just wait for a bit, until night.” your arms are wrapped around yourself, but you still manage an excited smile, an i-know-something-you-don’t smile. you’re the only person who ever looks at her like that; she’d bite the head off anyone else who dared, but… she just inclines her head. “fine. after that, i’m going home.”
“okay, okay.”
the time passes leisurely. you float on your back, showing arlecchino rocks and shells that you’ve plucked from the sand. she doesn’t respond beyond a nod to most of them, but your pockets grow heavy with the ones that receive an appreciative blink. you snatch up a hermit crab and place it in her hand; when it pinches her palm, she threatens to crush and eat it, prompting a cry of outrage from you.
the sun slowly drifts below the horizon; golden bleeding to red, then to dark orange, then a sedated gradient of blue. wind whistles through the trees surrounding the lake, and the cries of birds grow quieter and quieter. this secluded pocket of fontaine – far away from the city, the aquabus and anyone who could interrupt you – is somewhere arlecchino has never been. somewhere you’ve been begging to show her for a while now. so far she’s seen nothing remarkable about it, and if it was anyone else, she’d go home, but…
but.
the sun is completely gone by now, and the sky is velvet black and speckled with stars. you’re shivering, the shoulders of your gauzy shirt soaked through as you bemoan your decision to wear such thin layers. her face is cold, her eyelids are drifting shut; exhausted from days and days of nonstop work. a thousand duties for the tenth harbinger.
and yet you want so badly to show her, whatever it is that you’ve been waiting all day for. so she can stay at least a moment longer.
the sky dims a bit more, and you push yourself up and onto the riverbank. arlecchino follows a moment after, and as the water laps at her boots, it feels like a shadow passing over her. she tilts her head up and sees that a cloud has drifted past the moon, dimming its silver glow; the air is cold and crisp like a peppermint. you’re sitting with your knees pulled up to your chest.
she sits beside you feeling like a child awaiting instruction, legs stretched out in front of her, and looks up at the sky. there’s a few heartbeats where the sound of your breathing fills her ears, shivering and frosty puffs escaping your lips, and then you make a delighted noise. “look, look,” you say, pointing at the water. “it’s glowing.”
arlecchino glances at you, blinking slowly as if you’re playing a trick on her. but your eyes are riveted to the scene below. she tilts her head, looking down at it, and sees the bright blue sparkles, glimmering in the water like a thousand stars, fallen down from the night sky to rest in the sea. her breath catches in her throat. the river glitters as though it’s filled with gems.
“isn’t it amazing?” your fingers twitch, like you’re going to try and reach out, touch it. she inches her hand forward inconspicuously, ready to catch you if you lean just a bit too far. you’re not looking at her, transfixed. “it’s beautiful. it looks like a dream.”
she peers at it. the azure gleam reflects in her black eyes, the red x-shape of her pupils standing out like fire in a field of flowers. she reaches out, stretches as far as she can, brushes her long, sharp nails through the surface of the water; blue light blooms wherever she touches it. her lips curve up slightly, then press into a flat line again.
“it’s… ” she stops and blinks fast. “it’s just algae. it’s science. plants. it’s not… a miracle, or anything. there’s no need to fawn over it like that.”
you pull your knees up to your chest, touch the top of her hand. her skin is cold, dry and without pores, no marks in her skin anywhere. smooth and empty. you trace the silver lines threading over her fingertips like veins. “even if it’s not magic, it can still be a miracle. you know that, right?”
she lets you run your hand over her fingers for a moment longer, then pulls it away. “... maybe. but it’s nothing exceptional. it’s a plankton. we could come back here tomorrow night and see it again. it’ll never go anywhere.”
“that doesn’t change anything,” you say. arlecchino can feel your gaze on her. she looks down into the water, sees the fish swimming through the luminescence, tries to ignore your eyes burning like flames into the side of her head. it’s too pleasant of a feeling to her, who doesn’t understand pain. “just because it’s always there doesn’t mean it’s any less beautiful. maybe that makes it more special.”
“absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she hums. “you’d probably appreciate it even more if it disappeared for a while.”
“i don’t think so.” you lean into her, slowly, tentatively. she doesn’t push you away, tucking her hands into her pockets. you shift your attention back down to the sea, as if you’re speaking to it when you say, the radiance of the water illuminated in your irises, “i’d rather have you here with me.”
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