Chapter Text
“You haven’t been to the palace recently.”
“And?”
“That’s all.”
AK’s mother is speaking to a tall, scary woman with dark eyes and a dark suit, and AK has never seen her before. Based on how much she can see from behind a bush, the woman is very tall. Even taller than her mother.
The two of them are seated at a small table outside of some restaurant. They’ve been talking for a while now. AK’s ankles are starting to hurt a little bit from the way that she’s kneeling out of sight, but she doesn’t dare move. She’s frozen in place, but also completely captivated by the conversation that the adults are having, even if most of what they’re saying doesn’t make any sense to her.
AK knows her mother is powerful. She knows that her mother has people working for her. Every time the two of them leave the house, there’s at least one bodyguard with them, and another one following them who tries to blend in like a normal person. She knows that her mother can be mean to other people, and she doesn’t like strangers.
As quietly as possible, AK picks up each of her legs off the ground underneath her skirt, just to give each ankle a break.
The woman crosses her leg. AK can see that she’s wearing high heels that are even taller than her mother’s heels. “I didn’t expect it,” she continues, gently setting a teacup onto the table. “Maybe you are actually settling down and becoming domesticated.”
Her mother shrugs and says nothing. She, too, crosses a leg. Then, she meets the scary woman’s gaze without flinching, as if to say, what about it?
“The Seventh is a stay-at-home mom,” the woman continues to tease with little inflection to her deadpan voice. “Do you also attend your daughter’s school plays?”
“Of course I do,” her mother responds with some bite. “Though they’re hosted and directed by the local library. I don’t send Abigail to some slop institution.”
The woman chuckles. Her mother takes a sip from her teacup with an angry look on her face.
AK doesn’t know what they’re talking about. The other kids at the library call her a ‘homeschooler.’ Based on what her mother is saying, should she call the other kids ‘sloppers’?
She watches as the tall woman uncrosses her legs to lean in. From where she’s hiding, she can see that the woman’s eyes are dark red, and her white hair actually has some black in it. AK is reminded of the piano, which also has black and white.
“Anyways. I come with news related to your daughter.”
Her mother’s expression shifts into one of more caution. “Go on.”
The woman does not meet her eyes. Instead, she’s looking at her fingers, which are long and black and have long red nails. “She has been gaining some internal attention.”
It’s a moment before her mother speaks. When she does, it’s much quieter, almost like a whisper. “What?”
“I have heard her name being passed around at the Harbinger level.”
For a few seconds, her mother just sits with an incredulous expression, mouth slightly parted. “That’s… why? Why is that happening now?”
The tall woman finally looks up at her without moving her head. Just an upward flick of her eyes.
“It’s been 8 fucking years. Now is not the time for this shit.” Her mother brings a gloved hand up to rub her face. The motion causes her bell sleeve to fall slightly, revealing the pale skin of her wrist. “What does it mean?” she adds on, as if to herself.
“I’m as disturbed as you are, Sandrone. If it were instead one of my own kids…”
“And last time she had any attention, that was because—” She cuts herself off, as if unable to complete the sentence.
The woman completes it for her. “... Because the Third left.”
Her mother stares at the table for a second, head in her hands. Then, from under her breath, she mutters, “Archons dammit.”
The tall woman hums and picks up her teacup again calmly, as if unbothered. “Well,” she says. “On a separate note, I’ve just noticed something.”
Her mother’s voice is flat. “What.”
Then, without moving her head at all, the woman’s dark eyes suddenly flick over to where AK’s been hiding. Directly at her.
AK stops breathing.
“It seems that a little ghost is in our presence.”
“Huh?!”
She’s been caught.
Her mother suddenly jumps to attention, swiveling her head around to find where the other woman’s eyes are trained. And suddenly, AK is staring right into her mother’s narrowed, angry blue eyes.
“Abigail Katherine,” her mother says very clearly.
Heart in her throat, AK slowly crawls out from her hiding spot and stands in front of the bush. She has twigs all over her skirt, and her hair is completely tangled. She’s too embarrassed to speak.
Her mother stands to her feet and stalks closer. “What in Teyvat are you doing? Did you follow me?” she demands.
Tears quickly spring to her eyes, but she wills them away. She nods quickly without saying anything.
Practiced hands are suddenly all over her, pulling twigs off of her and running through her medium-length beige hair. “Did you have any guards following you?”
AK shakes her head, lips wobbling.
Her mother clicks her tongue. “You could have gotten lost. Don’t follow me like that,” she commands, pointing a finger at her.
“Yes, mama.” She nods quickly again.
Her mother sighs, patting down AK’s skirt and blouse. “Well, now you must introduce yourself to my guest.”
AK looks at the tall woman. She’s staring back directly at her, hands folded in her lap.
Her feet remain rooted to the ground.
Her mother gently pushes her from the back. “Go on.”
AK rushes toward the table and curtsies. “H-hello. M-my name is A—Abigail Katherine Guillotin.”
“Hmm,” the woman hums above her.
AK peeks a look at her face. She’s got a weird expression on her face.
“Well met, Abigail,” she says while standing up. “Sandrone, I like her. Do you think—?”
Her mother interrupts. “She will absolutely not join the House,” she snaps. “AK, this is Arlecchino.”
AK watches as Arlecchino smirks down at her. “And you may call me—”
“—Arlecchino,” her mother interrupts again, still looking at AK with an expectant, albeit irritated look.
It’s weird having two adults arguing with each other while looking at the child.
“Now, AK, let’s head home,” she says while pulling her along with a cold hand. “Good day, Arlecchino.”
AK chances another look over her shoulder to see Arlecchino with an unsettling smile. Or maybe that’s her attempt at a kind smile.
Once they’re far enough away, AK speaks her mind. “Mama, she was scary.”
Her mother scoffs. “Don’t let her scare you.”
She doesn’t let go of her hand.
Sandrone has an affinity for musicians. Not so much for music itself, but certainly for musicians. So when AK was five, she’d connected with a local piano studio who she trusted would keep their mouth shut.
Usually, she sits in on the lessons and brings some paperwork to do, but less than five minutes after AK has seated herself on the bench, Sandrone gets pinged from her security team.
Unknown person at front gate.
She reads it carefully on her internal interface, wondering what it could mean. She looks over to the piano room, where AK has started playing her scales for her teacher. She looks down at the paperwork that’s still in the stack in which she brought it, having not had the time to begin.
30 minutes, she tells herself. 30 minutes and she will be seated right here again, listening in to her daughter’s piano lesson.
It usually takes around ten minutes to walk to the piano lesson with AK. It takes four minutes for Sandrone to make it back to her house in a quiet part of the city.
She sees that it’s a single Fatui officer standing at the gate. He nearly startles when he sees her approaching from the front, probably because of the horrible glare she currently has on.
“What do you want?” she snarls before she’s even stepped up closer to him.
He’s immediately standing at attention. “S-sorry, Lady Harbinger. Your presence has been requested at the palace.”
“And you imbeciles couldn’t just ping me with a message? Hello? We live in an age of technology? You just had to come to my house in Nod-Krai, didn’t you?”
He bows deeply. “My apologies.”
Sandrone crossed her arms. “Ugh! My answer is no. I’ll be back later this week.”
“Understood.”
She juts a finger back toward the city. “Get out of my sight, marathon moron.”
He jumps to attention and walks away faster than Sandrone initially expected of someone of his level.
Inconvenienced as hell. Feeling somewhat foul, Sandrone takes a longer walk back to the studio.
She’s deep in thought when she finds herself in front of a statue of the moon goddess. Gazing up at the sculpture, she calculates in her mind that she can stall for five minutes before walking back and still make her quota.
She exhales slowly, feeling all kinds of turbulence in her system.
The blindfold on the statue of the moon goddess irks her. Of all things, of all incorrect depictions, the blindfold is what’s currently irking her right now.
A slow wave of melancholy comes over her the longer she stares at the statue.
“You fool,” she whispers to the statue. “I don’t know what you did this time, but you’re a fool.”
She walks back to the studio feeling calmer.
AK has a private teacher who comes directly to the premise. She’s been involved in the 8-year old’s education for years at this point, and it seems that AK is at least somewhat fond of her. Sandrone also trusts her enough to be her daughter’s supervisor for hours at a time, even escorting her out to specific places.
“Good morning, Ms. Basil,” AK greets at the door in a curtsy.
Every time she shows off her manners, Sandrone can’t help but feel proud of both herself and her daughter. She raised her like that. As expected of the daughter of an elegant lady like herself.
“Alright, now work hard,” Sandrone commands, sweeping the two into the in-home learning center. She addresses one of the heads of her security team. “You’re in charge until I return.”
And then she’s outside under their pavilion, where she keeps Pulonia. She snaps for its attention.
“C’mon. To the palace,” she directs, mounting onto her usual spot. “Since they can’t seem to function without me.”
As usual, Pulonia says nothing but begins the commute.
En route, she passes by the same statue by which she’d stopped earlier. She ignores it this time. But when, several minutes later, she approaches another statue of the moon goddess, she gestures for Pulonia to halt.
She dismounts and smooths her dress down as she walks closer to the statue. This one is one of the largest in Nod-Krai, depicting the moon goddess in a much different pose than some of the smaller ones. There is a lot more detail in the sculpture. Sandrone would almost be impressed if she were a layman who knew nothing about the being of which they’ve sculpted.
But standing there, Sandrone feels a sense of restlessness come upon her. A need to do something, change something, find something. She gazes at the blindfold again, narrowing her eyes.
Suddenly, she senses that another person is walking closer. Turning her head slightly, she sees that it’s a young Frostmoon Scion who is also approaching the statue. She’s wearing the usual long, modest dress as standardized of their cult followers, and her hair is pulled back and neat. Unassuming.
What does this girl want, she can’t help but ponder. But when the girl stops a respectable distance from her, also angles her head up at the statue, and says nothing, Sandrone restrains herself from snapping at her.
And when neither of them say a word for a full minute, Sandrone decides that this Scion gets a pass. Neither of them outwardly acknowledge the other.
Eventually, the peace and quiet is broken when the girl speaks in a reverent voice. “Does my Lady Harbinger also pray to our moon goddess?”
“Probably,” Sandrone responds wistfully. “If she’s even out there anymore.”
“Have you ever seen her before?”
Sandrone turns an incredulous eye to the girl, who’s still gazing up at the statue in reverence. She laughs out loud, and the sound is bitter. “Oh, have I.”
The girl finally turns her head to address Sandrone. “I have not been one of the lucky ones who have seen her. Tell me, is she as beautiful as we portray her?”
Unbidden, Sandrone recalls soft facial features, a near-ethereal elegance, and otherworldly eyes. She looks up at the statue, at the blindfold. Maybe that’s why it’s been irking her.
She recalls the absolute tranquility of her expression most of the time, and when she opens her eyes to the world, the room alights with her color. Pink, magenta, pearl, all insufficient words to describe the majesty of her eyes.
And the statue chooses to depict her with a blindfold, as if mere humans could not stand the overwhelming eminence of her gaze.
Sandrone’s attention falls to all of the skin showing in the stone, from her bare feet all the way up to her exposed shoulders. Nearly bare, all that covers her body are a series of wrappings that criss-cross lazily over her joints and limbs, almost as if she’s emerging from a casket as a mummified woman. And yet…
She recalls the image that can never be erased from her mind. One of which the sculptors would faint at the thought.
Columbina, completely nude and exposed for her. Eyes half-lidded with a dangerous expression. Hair loose, long, and draped over her upper half like a blanket. A pretty blush warming up her skin from her cheeks down to the modest swells of her breasts. A slight sheen over every inch of her fair skin from perspiration.
“Come here,” she says between heavy breaths. “You can touch more.”
Sandrone snaps, “Of course she is. Now scram. I hate this conversation.”
Somewhat startled, the girl quickly regains her composure. “Apologies, Lady Harbinger.” Then, as quietly as she’d shown up, she walks away.
She’s lying. If Sandrone were a sculptor, her depiction of the moon goddess would put each and every statue in Nod-Krai to shame.
Of course she is. She’s more beautiful than they portray.
Sandrone gives herself one more minute before she continues on her way.
AK gets to go to the library a few times each week. Sometimes it’s her mother that brings her, but most of the time, it’s Ms. Basil. Today, it’s the usual entourage: AK, escorted by Ms. Basil, and a duo of guards trailing behind them.
The library is one of the only places that AK regularly meets other kids her age, though sometimes she knows that they’re not exactly her age. As she walks into the lobby of the library, she quickly glances over the numerous other kids who have gathered.
To her surprise, most of them are boys, and most of them are faces with whom she is not super familiar. She plants her feet right in the middle of the lobby, somewhat confused. Is this what the library has become?
Her supervisor nudges her forward. “Don’t just stand in the middle of the walkway,” Ms. Basil says.
AK begrudgingly finds a seat near some boys she’s seen in previous weeks, but can’t quite remember their names. She watches as Ms. Basil signs her in with the teacher.
“Is that your mom?” the boy next to her whispers, also looking at Basil. The book in his hands has not yet been opened. AK remembers reading that book when she was six. She guesses that he is around eight years old, as old as she is.
AK shakes her head. “No, she’s at work.” She turns her attention to the book that she’d brought and places it on the floor, ready to crack it open.
Another boy next to him leans over. “Do you love your mom?”
“Yes,” she responds. “I love my mama.” She also takes a glance at his book. She recognizes it as a book that she’s been wanting to read, but she has been unable to find it on the shelf for a few weeks. Perhaps he would be interested in sharing once he’s finished with it. She guesses that he is a year or two older than she is.
He lowers his voice a little bit more. “I don’t think she loves you.”
Shaking her head, AK denies it. “That’s not true. She loves me very much.”
“I heard from Matty that your mom is too mean to love anyone.”
“She’s not mean,” AK counters, beginning to frown. “What do you know about her?”
A voice on the other side of her pipes in. “I bet she’s never smiled in her life!”
She swings her head around to see who she remembers is Matty sitting on his knees, leaning in to be a part of the conversation. She remembers him from last week when she walked in with her mother, and the boy pointed and stared at them with a jeer.
AK’s brows furrow. “I’ve seen her smile with my own eyes!”
“No you haven’t. Those weren’t real smiles.”
“I’ve seen her smile!” she repeats, voice raising slightly. “More than five times! And she has a more beautiful smile than your mama does!”
A sharp voice interrupts her tirade.
“Boys and girls!” the teacher of the library group booms. “We’re in a library. Please keep your voices down.” She directs her gaze directly at AK, who shrinks back down to her spot.
She quietly opens her book and stares at the page she was last reading without reading a word.
The first boy next to her whispers to her again. “Isn’t your mom a robot?”
“So?” she whispers back.
“Robots can’t love.”
AK takes a breath.
“Shut up,” she speaks aloud in her full voice, turning numerous heads toward her.
The teacher calls her to the front of the group.
AK stands in front of her. She can’t quite remember the teacher’s name. She doesn’t like her as much as she likes Ms. Basil. Why doesn’t Ms. Basil just take over the local library group? AK bets that Ms. Basil is smarter than this teacher, anyway.
While seated, the teacher’s eyes are directly level with AK’s. “Why did I pull you out of the group, Miss Guillotin?”
AK responds in a deadpan. “Because I was being loud.”
The teacher brings a manicured finger up to her lips as if to shush her. “Precisely. This is your last warning. Please be quiet.”
AK goes to sit back down.
Before she can even begin to read her book, Matty leans over and whispers in her ear. “Clanker girl.”
AK closes the book, turns around, and punches him in the jaw as hard as she can.
Sandrone receives a long-distance ping while in her lab. It flashes across her vision with an ‘urgent’ flag attached to it.
Basil Elton: AK got into a fight at the library.
She doesn’t move from her desk for a long moment, rereading the message a few times.
A fight?
That’s never happened before. AK has, surprisingly, been a very mild-mannered child who keeps her emotions in check. She certainly didn’t get that trait from Sandrone, and Sandrone is thankful for it. Impulsive, maybe, but not temperamental.
So this shocks her.
She turns to look at her subordinates in her lab, quietly working on their own. As if sensing her attention, however, four of them jerk their heads up and meet her gaze with wide eyes.
“What,” she barks. “Get back to work.”
“Yes, my lady,” they all say in unison.
She quickly composes a response message while snapping for Pulonia’s attention.
Sandrone: I’ll be there in 45 minutes.
When she returns back to the house, Basil has AK sitting in a chair, looking forlorn and subdued.
Sandrone closes the door behind her loudly to announce her arrival. She sees that AK doesn’t react at all. It would seem that she’s been anticipating this conversation during Sandrone’s rush to get home.
Without saying a word, she sits across from her daughter, who doesn’t look her in the eye, instead finding interest in her bruised knuckle.
She waits for nearly a full minute. AK shifts in her seat.
“Well?” Sandrone prompts. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
She notes that her daughter’s pink-pearl eyes are not rimmed with red, nor has there been any other evidence of crying. And even now, she’s still not tearing up.
Sandrone gently brings a gloved hand up to the crown of her daughter’s beige head. She angles it so that AK faces her directly. “Abigail Katherine.”
AK’s lips are pressed together tightly. She takes in a deep breath through her nose, still not quite meeting her mother’s gaze. “Matty called me a clanker girl.”
Sandrone’s eyes widen.
“So,” she says matter-of-factly in a straight voice. “I hit him.”
AK says nothing more after that. Her expression remains mostly calm despite her eyes betraying her tumultuous feelings. A low simmer of indignation burns in her starry gaze.
Sandrone looks up to meet the gaze of Basil, who, for some reason, is trying to hide a smirk. She subtly clears her throat and nods in confirmation.
Interesting. She presses her lips together and nods, releasing her daughter. “Thank you for telling me the truth,” she responds in a soft voice. “Next time, ignore comments like that.”
AK nods, her gaze dropping to Sandrone’s knees, covered by her long dress.
She opens her palm to her daughter. “Let me see your hand.”
Obeying, AK places her small but warm hand into Sandrone’s gloved, cold hand. She holds it gently, like it might break with the slightest pressure. But given the slight bruising growing on the knuckles, there is no need to treat her so delicately.
Human hands are so biologically complex.
Sandrone chuckles to herself. “Does it hurt?”
AK shakes her head no.
She lightly presses on what looks like a tender spot right in front of a knuckle. AK winces and tenses her entire body.
She clicks her tongue. “So it does hurt.”
“It hurts when you press, mama.”
“C’mon,” she says while standing up and letting go. “Go ice it.”
As AK stands up to walk to the kitchen, Sandrone nods for Basil to follow and assist.
A fight my ass. A knock-out in one hit. It would seem that when the Sandrone part of AK comes out, she comes out fighting and standing tall.
Shocked as she may be, Sandrone finds that she’s not upset. She supposes that a good parent would tell their kid to keep their hands to themselves, or to never take words to heart, but she can’t help but counter that with the image of AK, all flaming magenta eyes and unwavering expression, and a flying fist. All in an eight-year old package.
She can barely contain a smile.
She checks the time and begins to calculate how much more time she could realistically spend at the palace today, but reasons to herself that maybe it is about time to let Basil go home today.
Sandrone pops her head into the kitchen. “AK, how about we go out today? I doubt the library will want you back for a while.”
AK looks up at her from sitting on the floor, holding an ice pack to her knuckles. “Um, okay.”
“We’re heading out,” Sandrone says to her head of security, standing in the foyer of her house. “Get a team.”
Holding AK’s hand, Sandrone grabs the doorknob of her front door and pushes it open.
The officer tries to interrupt. “Wait, there’s a—”
She hasn’t even stepped outside yet and she sees a familiar face standing at the front gate, hand raised as if about to ring the buzzer. And his eyes meet hers immediately.
Without looking behind her, she says to AK, “Step back inside.” Then, she stalks to the gate until there’s nothing between her and her unwanted guest but a metal gate.
She crosses her arms and stands tall despite her relatively short frame, especially compared to him. He lowers his hand with a sheepish grin.
“What are you doing here?” she demands.
Tartaglia’s smile doesn’t falter. “Something wrong with visiting a friend?”
Sandrone says nothing and glares up at him. She doesn’t move to open the gate.
His expression drops until a much more serious look takes its place. “Listen. Your Nod-Krai home is a hot topic right now.”
“Among which circles?”
His gaze pleads with her to not be difficult. He clenches his jaw noticeably. “Il Dottore.”
A dreaded name. Dottore.
She feels an uncomfortable chill up her spine. “Fuck,” she says quietly.
Tartaglia agrees. “Fuck, indeed.”
“Are you serious?”
He nods, somber. “I’m serious.”
His stupid ginger head peeks around Sandrone, and he spots AK poking her head out of the door to watch the drama. Her pink eyes are wide and curious, but cautious.
Tartaglia dons a goofy grin and crouches slightly. He waves his hand at AK.
She hides her face a little bit more behind the doorframe, until only her eyes and her beige head of hair are visible in the crack.
Sandrone rubs her face, feeling her anxiety level raise slowly. “That’s… Is that why you’re here?”
Tartaglia straightens up to full height again. He shrugs. “Genuine. I’m impressed that you’ve kept this neat little place under the radar for eight years. I just needed to warn you of what’s happening up at the palace.” He juts a finger vaguely north. “Since you’re never there.”
Glancing back at the house, Sandrone sees that AK is still watching their hushed conversation. She extends an arm and gestures for her to come to them.
AK slowly opens the door further and steps out. She pads closer until she’s right behind her mother.
“This is my daughter,” Sandrone introduces, angling her body so that AK is not completely hiding behind her.
Tartaglia crouches down on the other side of the gate again, until he’s more eye-level with AK. “My name is Ajax. What’s your name?”
AK eyes him up and down. All she says is, “AK.”
He slides an arm through an opening in the gate, then extends his hand, palm toward the sky. “It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. AK.”
She looks at his hand skeptically. Then, she rears a hand up and smacks his hand as hard as she can. The impact shoves his arm down and causes an uncomfortable metal piece to dig into his upper arm. He holds back a wince and quickly retracts his arm.
Sandrone looks at him, unimpressed. An embarrassed chuckle escapes his lips.
“Now,” Sandrone says, “if you wouldn’t mind getting out of the way, we are going out.” She unlocks the gate and begins pulling it open.
“No time to talk?” he says, frowning.
She flashes him a feral glare. “If you want to be useful, keep your mouth shut. And you can come tell me if the situation changes internally.”
She takes AK’s hand and walks right past him.
AK looks back for a second and sees him scratching his head, seemingly unsure of what to do now.
She mimics her mother and gives him a haughty look, sticking her nose up.
Once they get into the city and other people are milling about, AK glances behind her to confirm what she’s expecting. A familiar face happens to be about twenty feet behind them, looking awfully suspicious as a discreet commoner. And she very quickly finds the other guard, also in commoner clothing, standing in front of a building, doing a poor job of looking busy.
This is a normal outing. As long as AK can remember, whenever she and her mother would go out, they would have at least two guards either in their party or as followers, disguised as regular people. She remembers once sitting at a restaurant with her mother and accidentally making eye contact with one man sitting on the other side of the floor.
The man had been holding a menu to his face for more than thirty minutes.
Her mother’s voice interrupts her thoughts. “Do you want some ice cream?” she asks suddenly.
AK nearly jumps for joy. “Yes!”
“Okay, let’s go get some.”
AK beams.
“But first, you have to tell me how you hit this kid.”
AK immediately stops rejoicing. She redirects her focus to following the steps of her mother—left and right and left and right.
She finds that she’s too embarrassed to speak.
Her mother stops walking and faces her. “You did hit him, right?”
AK nods.
“How did you hit him?”
“I just punched him.”
“Did he hit back?”
“No.”
They resume walking. “Next time you see him at the library, make sure you say that you’re sorry for punching him.”
AK shrinks into herself. “Yes, mama.”
For a few long seconds, her mother doesn’t speak. She doesn’t want her to say anything she doesn’t want to hear, so she doesn’t say anything, either. The silence causes her mind to start racing.
Then, “Now, if a scary man is approaching you,” her mother says, “would you hit him?”
“No, mama. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
Her mother stops walking again. This time, she crouches until their gazes meet. She has an intense look in her blue eyes. “No, baby,” she expresses. “Hit the man. Use something sharp. Don’t hold back.”
AK feels somewhat uncomfortable. Her mother doesn’t have that expression much at all. “A-alright.”
“Listen to me, AK.” She grabs her hand and forces her to meet her eyes again. “If you can run, you run. If you can’t run, you hide. If you can’t hide, then you fight.”
It takes until this moment that AK realizes that this isn’t discipline anymore. She nods at her mother’s strange words.
Her mother’s cold hand squeezes her own. “Say it, AK. Run, hide, fight.”
AK repeats it in a mumble.
Her mother gazes at her intensely for another long moment before nodding and standing back up. “Good. Now let’s go get some ice cream.”
When AK steps outside with Ms. Basil and the guards, she looks up at the sky to find that it’s overcast.
Her mother had taught her the term. It’s a mostly cloudy day, so it’s overcast. She wonders if there’s less fresh air if it’s overcast, or if it’s the same as when it’s sunny. Either way, she is taking a break to get some fresh air.
She’ll be escorted outside at least once every day by Ms. Basil, but they go to different places. Today, she’s going to a nearby playground.
There aren’t a lot of playgrounds that she’s been to. The most common playground that she’s been to is one that’s very close to home. It takes only a few minutes to walk there.
The problem is that it’s not very big. It has only one structure and two swings. That means not a lot of other kids in the neighborhood like this one. And when AK and her entourage approach the playground, she sees that it’s empty.
Oh, well. This isn’t the first time that she’s come to the playground and she’s the only one playing.
She starts by getting on one of the swings. Ms. Basil said no when AK asked if she wanted to join her on the swingset. AK isn’t sure why. Even her mother has swung with her before, so it’s not something that adults don’t do.
This swingset is very tall, so AK is somewhat afraid of swinging super high. When she starts to get some height, though, she hears Ms. Basil call out her name from off the playground.
“Please don’t get in the habit of swinging too high when you’re wearing a skirt,” is what Ms. Basil says.
AK’s response is to kick off her shoes at the height of her swing. She watches them fly high into the sky, in different directions, and one of them manages to land on one of the upper levels of the structure.
She lets herself slow down to nearly a stop before getting off and stepping over to one of her shoes on the mulch. Her other shoe is near the top of the slide, so she climbs onto the playground.
As she sits down and starts putting her shoes back on, she glances over to where Ms. Basil and one of the guards are standing off the side of the playground. She notices a stranger approach them. Someone she’s never seen before. A man wearing stiff clothes.
She hides behind one of the walls at the top of the playground and watches as the adults talk. She can’t hear what they’re saying, but even one of the guards has joined the conversation.
They don’t seem very joyful to see each other. She slowly crawls back down the playground without going down one of the slides. When her feet touch the ground, she quietly steps around the set so that she can join the adults’ conversation and hear what they’re saying.
As soon as she steps out onto the mulch, she notices a different stranger walking up to her.
A tall, scary man. And he’s just about face-to-face with her.
He says, “Hello, Ms. AK.” And he has a scary smile and a scary mask on his face.
Her blood runs cold.
She doesn’t think for another second. She turns and runs as fast as she can, off the playground and into the neighborhood.
She doesn’t notice anything around her. She only focuses on what’s ahead, and it’s more city. And she runs deeper into the city.
Her breath starts coming in fast and ragged. Her heart is pounding hard enough that she can feel it in her eyes. She doesn’t know where she is at all, but she keeps running.
She turns the corner of a building and runs behind, off the street. Away from the scary man. Away from the playground, where the other stranger is. She doesn’t stop until she’s certain that he’s not following. And if she’s listening, she can hear him pounding his feet right behind her.
She turns another corner and gives one last push, barely able to take another breath, when she suddenly collides with someone.
“Oh—!”
The impact makes her nearly fall backward. She loses balance and starts to take a tumble, but suddenly arms are around her, catching her in midair.
Breaths coming in like bullets, AK’s wide eyes snap up to the face of the person who she ran into.
It’s a woman she’s never seen before. Another stranger. But at least she’s beautiful.
And, AK notices, she has wings on her head.
“Hello,” she says, tilting her head slightly. Long, dark locks of hair sway slightly with the motion. “Are you lost?”
AK is at a loss for words. The random beautiful woman is still holding her shoulders in her arms. AK quickly places her feet right underneath herself and stands on her own.
Cautiously, she tries to control her breathing. Is she lost? Does she even know where she is?
Before she can answer, she hears real footsteps approaching from behind her. Without thinking, she darts behind the woman and hides her face in long, flowing clothes.
The footsteps stop. “Oh, my. What a surprise.”
It’s the same scary man. AK barely peeks out from behind the woman to confirm. It is the same scary man with the scary mask.
But he’s not looking at her. He’s looking at the woman. And he’s still smiling.
Nope. He’s looking at her again. She can tell through his mask that he’s looking at her again.
He says, “Why don’t you come out and have a little chat with me?”
The woman intercedes, adjusting her posture. “Don’t you have something better to do than to harass children?”
Audibly, he hums and regards the woman again. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Is this where you’ve been hiding?”
She continues. “Go back home. You’re done here.”
“I suppose I am.” He looks back down at AK. “Until next time.”
AK counts more than thirty footsteps before she dares to move. As soon as she releases the woman’s clothing from her death grip, she turns around and bends down slightly.
“I think he’s gone. Are you lost?” she repeats in a soft voice.
AK hesitates for a long second. She still doesn’t know who this is. She nods anyway, still cautious.
“Who are your parents?”
She still doesn’t quite want to speak yet. She keeps her wide eyes on the woman.
The woman hums, pressing her lips together. “Hmm. Do you know where they are?”
After a brief hesitation, AK shakes her head. Her body is still tense, and her heart is still racing. She breathes carefully through her mouth.
Then, the woman extends a hand out toward AK. “Well, my name is Columbina. I’d like to bring you home. I’m not going to hurt you.”
AK stares at the hand. The woman’s not wearing gloves, unlike her mother on a normal day. Slowly, AK takes the hand. It’s warm and unfamiliar.
“Will you tell me your name?” she inquires in a kind voice.
AK vacillates for a second, before saying, “It’s AK.”
“Is that a nickname?”
AK nods. “That’s what my mama calls me. My real name is Abigail Katherine Guillotin.”
Out of nowhere, Columbina’s jaw drops to the floor. She blinks a few times, shocked. That’s when AK finally notices the color of her eyes. Also pink. She has the same color eyes, AK realizes. She actually has the same eyes. She’s never met anyone else with her eyes. Columbina has the same eyes that she does.
“Your mama is Sandrone?” the beautiful woman asks.
That’s when AK realizes that she’d said her family name. She shuts up again and doesn’t say a word.
Columbina seems to notice. “Sandrone and I are… friends. You can talk to me.”
AK furrows her brow, skeptical. “Mama doesn’t have friends.”
Columbina’s lips flatten into a frown. “You don’t think she has any friends?” she asks, askance.
“I… maybe she does.”
“Do you know where you came from?”
AK regards this woman again. For some reason, she trusts this woman a little bit more. “I think… I came from this way,” she says while retracing her steps, still holding Columbina’s hand.
Eventually, after turning corners and finding her way back to a familiar walkway, she happens across Ms. Basil and the guards again.
And in the split second that Ms. Basil’s eyes fall upon AK in relief, she also gasps and freezes at the sight of Columbina, standing beside her. And the guards immediately follow suit, eyes wide and staring right at her.
Ms. Basil suddenly steps forward. “Th-thank you for accompanying her and bringing her back safely, Lady Kuutar,” she says reverently while bowing deeply.
What?
AK looks up at Columbina with a strange look, who ignores her for a second.
“I am glad she’s safe,” Columbina says in response. “Is her mother around?”
Ms. Basil nods fervently. “Yes, she is on the way. We pinged her when we lost AK.”
Columbina sets her jaw. “That is excellent to hear. I hope you don’t mind me sticking around until she shows up, then.”
“No, no. Please, we welcome your presence. I will escort us back to the house.”
As they walk, AK still doesn’t let go of Columbina’s hand. She turns up to look at her face. “Ms. Columbina, why did she call you ‘Lady Kuutar’?”
“That’s just a nickname,” Columbina says in response, her eyes twinkling like the night sky. “Just like how AK is your nickname.”
“So do you go by Lady Kuutar, then?”
Columbina thinks for a second, then leans down to whisper in AK’s ear. “You can still call me Columbina if you like.”
AK notices that Ms. Basil’s jaw is still dropped while she watches the conversation unfold. She keeps blinking her eyes as if she’s unable to comprehend what she’s seeing.
“Okay,” AK says. “Are you rich?”
Columbina laughs out loud, and it’s a warm, breathy laugh that makes AK smile. “Surely not any richer than your mom is.”
“Do you have a dog?”
“No, I don’t have a dog.”
“A cat?”
“I have some… other… animals,” she says, hesitating. Then, “I have bunnies.”
“I like bunnies. Are your wings real?”
“Hmm. Maybe.” Then, before AK’s eyes, the wings on Columbina’s head flutter slightly.
“Wow. What’s your favorite color?”
Columbina’s smile hasn’t dropped yet. “I think my favorite color has to be blue.”
“I like blue too. My mama has blue eyes.”
“Yes… she does.”
They walk a few steps in silence.
“What about you? Do you have a favorite color?” Columbina asks.
“My favorite is pink. And I have pink eyes.”
Columbina seems to really look at AK then. Like really notice some things. After a moment of scrutiny, she says, “You do have pink eyes.”
“You have pink eyes too.”
“So it would seem.”
Sandrone barely dismounts Pulonia at all before she is barging through her front gate like a colliding wrecking ball. She rushes up to her front door and swings it open, flying in faster than she’s ever done anything before.
Her gaze flits around over Basil, manic, before immediately zeroing in on AK, sitting on the floor with a word search puzzle.
AK’s head jumps up. She notices Sandrone quickly. “Mama—”
Without saying a word, Sandrone rushes up and sweeps her daughter into a tight hug, allowing for a shuddering breath to escape her. She holds her for four seconds, not even sure if there are any fully-formed thoughts taking place in her head.
She pulls away to check all over her daughter, from the top of her head all the way down to her feet. Through it all, AK keeps saying, “I’m okay. I’m okay.”
Sandrone looks her up and down, arms still half extended as if she’s not even sure of how to check for vital functions, when she knows that she’s done plenty of medical clean-up throughout AK’s childhood.
And that’s when she notices a very familiar figure, standing awkwardly a few paces away, and Sandrone freezes to her core.
The entire room holds still for a long moment.
Eventually, Columbina says, “Hello again.”
AK pipes in. “Mama, Columbina saved me from a scary man. She says that you’re friends?”
Sandrone slowly stands to her feet, not breaking eye contact with Columbina. She keeps one gloved hand on AK’s back as if to ensure that she remains connected. She clears her throat. “Thank you… Columbina.”
Another awkward silence.
Sandrone turns and snaps her fingers at the security team that’s gathered around the foyer. “You’re all dismissed,” she commands. “Back to your regular schedule.” She nods at Basil Elton, who bows her head slightly.
As everyone else files out, Sandrone turns back to face Columbina.
She doesn’t know what to say. She’s certain that if she hadn’t been forming complete thoughts in her head before, she’s definitely not even beginning to form a single thought.
Columbina decides to speak first. “Have you already been filled in on what happened?”
Sandrone feels something lurch inside of her at the timber of Columbina’s voice. She says, “Most of it.”
She leans down to address AK, who’s watching the conversation eagerly.
“I heard that you ran,” she says.
AK nods. “I don’t think I’ve ever run faster.”
“Good,” Sandrone praises. “You know what to do if you ever see him again.”
Her daughter nods again.
Sandrone turns back to Columbina. She hesitates. Then, she says, “Take a seat. It would seem that you two are already acquainted.”
Columbina pulls out the chair that Sandrone usually sits at when she and AK share meals. She seats herself calmly, her face not betraying any particular emotions. “Yes, somewhat,” she says. “She didn’t speak right away, which I understand considering the situation.”
Sandrone doesn’t join Columbina at the table. She sits down right next to AK and gestures to the word search again for AK to resume.
Humming a tune that she’s been learning on the piano, AK picks up the pencil and continues her work. Sandrone watches for a second while her mind races.
“I’m guessing he saw her?” Sandrone asks.
Columbina nods, somber. “He did.”
“Mama, he knew my name,” AK adds.
Sandrone holds in a cuss. She glances back up at Columbina. Their eyes meet. She immediately breaks eye contact and looks back down at AK’s word search.
“And Basil?”
Columbina tilts her head and furrows her eyebrows. “Who?”
AK chimes in. “She found me after the scary man left. Then she brought me and Columbina back home.”
Sandrone nods once. She says nothing, allowing the adrenaline-adjacent hormones to filter out of her system. She takes a deep breath.
“He said ‘until next time,’” Columbina adds.
Sandrone closes her eyes for a long moment. She glances back over at Columbina again.
Then, she wraps an arm around AK again, her thoughts working overtime.