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There are a lot of things she does not understand.
Her birth, for one.
Sometimes it feels like fate was playing cruel jokes on her, letting her be born millennia after the era of the moons, into a world that has been slowly sapping away her power. She is but a remnant of a past that no longer has a place, like a piece of misplaced jigsaw puzzle.
People, for another.
These creatures have long developed words and languages by the time of her birth. They used words and syllables and weaved them into poetry and prayers, and turned poetry and prayers into fabrics that held their societies together. When you use their languages, there are explicit rules you need to follow to communicate, and implicit rules that you are expected to get without being taught. People never appeared to mean what they say - a lot of times they say one thing and implied the other.
First, it was the Frost Moon Scions, showering her with words of worship when, eventually she realized, the words were actually preludes to a transaction.
Then came the Fatui, luring her in with the promise of a home but everything ended up being another transaction.
She does not get it. And she can feel some quiet disappointment when people realize she has not caught on. Sometimes they make up new things and procedures and inventions and give them names too, which confuse her even more. The world flows around her like invisible currents, or a maze with glass walls. She's too exhausted and too uninterested to figure out the ins and outs. So she stays put, while the world moves around her. This world is not meant for her anyway.
What she does, in times of not understanding, is to simply sing. The world really seems like a separate existence outside of yourself when you have your eyes closed. She would relax her sense on the kuuvahki and instead focus on her singing - the nameless melody, the only link to a nostalgic past she cannot recall. Soon enough, the world would take a backseat and become irrelevant and harmless again.
And of course, this very moment.
Columbina hesitantly stands outside Sandrone's door, not sure if she should knock.
She just finished meeting with Her Majesty. Her end of the deal is done, and she can leave, at the expense of her scant power almost running out. She feels drained, her bones heavier by the second and threatening to fall apart.
In her dazed state, she lets her unsteady feet carry her forward, counting one step after another, and they leads her here, without her realizing.
Inside the room, she can hear Sandrone pacing.
Sandrone's footsteps are always quiet and steady, like the person she is. Sometimes you can tell she's thinking through all the formulas, functions, or mechanisms by the way one step would fall tentatively after another, as if she was contemplating where to best place her next step.
Pulonia's heavy gears are turning as well. Columbina briefly wonders what project Sandrone is working on now.
She sits down and leans on the door, curling into a ball, and starts humming to herself. The carpet feels soft under her bare feet. Already, she feels safer and less vulnerable than when she walked out of the meeting. However, she still feels light - slowly, the boundary where she ends and air starts become fuzzier and fuzzier.
"Columbina." Sandrone opens the door behind her a few minutes later. "Why are you sitting here?"
Truth to be told, she's unsure. She supposes she's here to say goodbye. But as the moment comes, she doesn't know if she should tell Sandrone that she's leaving after all - she's running away from "home" again. It is not something you'd tell people beforehand. She certainly didn't tell Frost Moon Scions before she left for the Fatui.
And because you are a coward, a small voice in her heart tells her. You can't tell her you are leaving to her face, because she'll be sad, but will pretend it doesn't bother her. You can't stand her tone when she does that.
"Sandrone." She says instead, without getting up or turning her head.
She hears a couple of contemplative footsteps around her, and Sandrone's voice comes up again, this time from a different location.
"You look tired." Sandrone observes.
Columbina assumes Sandrone came to this conclusion after looking at her up and down a few times. She's a diligent researcher, the best there is, and she makes conclusions based on observations.
"Come on in. Let's not talk outside." After a sigh, Sandrone reaches out her hand and helps Columbina stand up, and opens her door a bit wider.
Her room feels warm and welcoming as always. She smells the scent of coffee and sweets almost immediately.
"What are you working on?"
The desk is messy and piled with papers and books, and Sandrone's notebook (one of many) is open. Pulonia is situated beside her giant desk, calculating in silence. (Well, he doesn't talk even when he is not calculating, anyway.)
"The same old research." Sandrone scratches her bun frustratingly.
Columbina hums.
By usual standards, Sandrone's room wouldn't be considered tidy, especially when she's working on projects. However, even the disorder feels natural here - all the things that appear misplaced yet belong. The managed chaos weaving into a happy melody.
Columbina likes it here, even more than her own room. It makes her feel safe - sharing a pillow with a few hard-covered books and falling asleep to the calming scent of coffee and the sounds of pen scraping on paper. Just like all the other messily placed things, maybe she can find a place to fit here too. She was once so desperate to find a place to exist, that she thought if that place ended up being in Sandrone's angry voice in front of her door, then so be it.
She makes a beeline to the bed and flops on it.
"Hey, I didn't say you can sleep on my bed!" Sandrone yells, somewhere close to her desk. She sounds annoyed, but there is no bite in her tone, as always.
"You sound tired, Sandrone." She feels the familiar soft mattress underneath her. "Have you not been sleeping again?"
"Just two days. I can't fall sleep without figuring it out, anyway. It's not like it concerns you."
"Hmm, I'm always concerned for your health, Sandrone. And I have a proposal. Since you said I look tired, and I think you sound tired…" Columbina pats on the soft mattress, "why don't you join me here?"
"WHAT?" As she expected, Sandrone gasps, "COLUMBINA. It's already preposterous that YOU are lying on MY bed without my consent like a house cat, and now you DARE suggesting we- we- WHAT'S SO FUNNY?"
Columbina chuckles softly. Sandrone is amusing. When she gets angry, Columbina can almost feel the fluctuations of kuuvahki radiating from her, like ripples on the surface of water when you throw in a stone. So, like an inquisitive child, she keeps wanting to throw in a few more pebbles.
"Because…" Columbina says, feeling the smile on her face creeping up, "Out of all the things I don't understand, Sandrone, I keep wondering - How come you have such a comfy bed, but I end up spending more time sleeping in it than you do?"
"That is NOT true."
"It is likely to be true. I have barely seen you in it at all, during all these years we've known each other. Is this really your bed at this point? Wouldn't you want to reclaim your territory?"
This logic probably doesn't stand, because obviously she wouldn't be here when Sandrone's sleeping, but it might as well work. Sandrone's wont to overlooking things and miscalculating when she's tired.
She is now reminded of that one time, when Sandrone had been stuck on a particular research for weeks. She had skipped all the meetings and tea parties at that point for weeks, and none of them could really get hold of her. Finally, after tracing with kuuvahki and singing outside after a long while, Columbina finally got Sandrone to open the door. Her methods seemed to have worked on Sandrone back then, and Columbina wonders if it'd work again this time.
"Fine."
A moment later, Columbina feels the mattress dipping beside her.
"Happy now?" Sandrone asks. They must've been quite close now, because Columbina can feel Sandrone's breath blowing on her face as Sandrone lets out an annoyed grunt.
"Very. Thank you, Sandrone." She says softly, feeling exhaustion climbing into her bones like ruthless vines sprawling over a tree. "You sound stressed. Remember what I suggested when you got stuck on your research last time and shut yourself in for days-"
"Alright alright, no need to remind me that. I do remember your stupid suggestion."
"It apparently worked last time. Do you want to try it again?"
Sandrone doesn't answer anymore, but she also doesn't say no. Columbina waits for a moment.
A few moments later, she hears an disgruntled "humph", before feeling a pair of arms circle around her.
Columbina shifts closer and hugs back. She still feels featherlight, like a balloon that might float away at any moment, but with Sandrone's arms around her, she feels grounded enough. Someone is holding onto the other end of the thread of the balloon. This is meant to help Sandrone unwind, but truth is, she feels her own breathing smooth out too.
She still hasn't said anything about the reason she comes to visit.
She knows she should, but she can't find it in herself to voice it now. A part of her wants to stay like this forever, even though she rationally realizes that she cannot - she has already made the decision. So instead, she's aiming for treasuring this moment for as long as possible.
"Sorry." She mouths quietly, sneaking a glance at Sandrone's sleeping face, as the brunette's breathing evens out.
She knows quite a lot, and she takes pride in that.
When the great Allain Guillotine built her all those centuries ago, all he ever thought was to create something of his sister's likeness with the capability of emotions. Just by this thought, she was brought into this world. It was only when Allain started teaching her his knowledge did they both realize how advanced her learning abilities were. She is smarter than expectation. She is a genius just like her creator, and she wears that pride on her sleeves.
Throughout the years, as she works tirelessly to expand on Allain's research, she has learned even more. The unknowns are being revealed in her mind like filling a blank canvas with paint, and she feels great satisfaction in that process. Sometimes Arlecchino would drop by with a few tomes in different areas, asking technical questions about the inner workings of Fontainian machinery. Sometimes she'd find herself poring into the pages trying to figure things out. All in all, turning unknown into knowing makes her feel reassured.
If there is anything, or anyone she cannot wrap her head around, it'd be that nuisance coming in the shape of a moon goddess.
Sandrone always holds that ignorance is but a fog to be dispersed, so not understanding makes her uneasy. Which is why, she supposes, the sight of Columbina irks her so much.
For better or for worse, Columbina has been sticking around her too, and sometimes they'd talk. This gives her more chance to observe the subject in question but also more time to feel annoyed by the fact that she still doesn't understand the dark haired girl fully.
Her way of talking is highly irregular as well, somehow a mix of being both highly literal and highly metaphorical. After finally getting closer to her, Sandrone thinks she's finally beginning to get Columbina. She can finally read her, fairly better than before and definitely better than anyone else could.
During one of the endlessly frustrating nights where her research was going nowhere, she had a moment of introspection. Maybe, she thought, as she wrote down the thought faithfully in her notes, maybe it wasn't just that she liked knowing - she did, but maybe the biggest part was that she hated uncertainty and ambiguity.
She reminisces in her notes.
Even the unpleasant past gives her comfort when she writes them down, because they are set in stone. The corners of the house covered in cobwebs, the old man's heaving in between talking, the way he grew sicker and weaker by day and the fact that she could do nothing but watch, these were things that have already happened. No more possibilities, no more alternatives, no more salvaging.
While the present is the process of something being engraved on stone, something being turned certain in present progressive tense, the world decides things will go a certain way and eliminates other possibilities.
The future is even more irritating. Too many things that can happen, too many variables to calculate, too slim of a chance for anything to happen.
The menace is singing outside her door again.
She would not admit this to anyone else, but she likes it.
She had told Columbina off on multiple occasions, citing multiple reasons to make it not seem hostile or personal, but the truth is she likes it when someone drops by her door and sings. It's like when the little animals that you feed spontaneously remember you and come back to you. She feels needed and special and wanted. For once, she's not something that was made from the image of a person long past, from nostalgia of a story she had scant knowledge of. At that moment, she's just her, unrelated to anything else.
She still told Columbina to stop. It would be weird to have the Third ranking Fatui harbinger to be seen singing outside of the door of the Seventh. Fatui is not that kind of organization where you establish friendly ties and becomes friends with your coworkers, and she has an image to uphold.
But she tried to sound reasonable when she told Columbina to stop. She didn't want to push her away or hurt her, at least. Not lots of people in the world would see her as she is or need her the way Columbina does. A part of her mind wishes that Columbina would get her true feelings that she kept buried under ten different layers of harsh words and excuses, but of course Columbina, being the way she is, does not fully get it.
With Columbina left her alone, she went back to being engulfed in her own quiet little world, focusing on her research and seeing no one else. She dropped off the face of Teyvat, and she was not expecting anyone to seek her out, as usual.
Until approximately three weeks in, after missing all the work meetings and cutting off contact with everyone for three weeks, Columbina returned and knocked on her door.
Upon opening the door and seeing the uncharacteristically worried expression on Columbina's face did Sandrone realize she probably looked out of sorts right now.
"Sandrone?" Columbina called, careful and uncertain, "are you doing OK? You seem very stressed right now. Have you been resting these past three weeks?"
That was the moment she realized two things.
Number one, she had gotten carried away and went M.I.A. for three weeks.
And number two, indeed someone had noticed and was looking for her.
Had she appeared that stressed now? She had been laser focused on her research and it was then she became aware of her tunnel vision. The past twenty-odd days just passed by in a blur with her incessantly pouring coffee into her body at a dosage that it would've killed a regular human being.
Instead of admitting the fact she was at a point of vulnerability, she said something else instead.
"I thought you can't see."
Well, she would have sounded like a flipping asshole, had she not known that Columbina could actually see. Instead of being offended by her blurting out the words, Columbina just chuckled.
"You are practically shaking so much that your screws might come loose, dear Sandrone, I can hear it." The damselette said in her melodic voice.
"Well! What do you propose I do then?" She had her hands up on her hips, defensive.
"I do have a proposal," the girl in white dress said, "on what we do."
Before Sandrone could react, the dark haired girl invaded her personal space and put her arms around her. Her cheek was resting on Sandrone's nape.
With such a close distance to her ear, Columbina murmured, "I remember seeing people do this to bring comfort to each another in the Scions. I hope it works for you too, dear Sandrone."
For one of the few times in her long, long life, Sandrone felt out of her depth. What would even be the socially acceptable and respected response of your coworker hugging you out of blue? She wasn't sure. So she just stood there awkwardly, listening to the other girl humming a tune by her ear. She felt her own ear and face burning up.
Thankfully, Columbina did not wait for a response from her.
"Go to bed?" She merely asked.
Numbly, Sandrone nodded, and let Columbina guide her to the bed. Columbina let her out from the hug but never once let go of her hand.
That night, she closed her eyes for the first time in three weeks. As if wanting to assure her that she was there, Columbina inched so close that Sandrone had no other comfortable position other than circling her arms around the dark haired girl. As Sandrone was falling asleep, for the first time in three weeks, instead of her research, she was thinking about how light Columbina's presence was. Even as she was holding Columbina in her arms, she felt as if she was really holding a ray of moonlight.
Now, to the current moment. That voice is singing outside her door again.
"Why are you sitting here?" After letting the girl outside humming to herself for a few minutes, she goes to open the door.
"Sandrone." The girl smiles tiredly at her instead of answering.
Well, it's not like Sandrone is expecting an answer from her to begin with. This girl comes and goes as she pleases; it's not like she needs a particular reason to do anything.
She looks pale. Sandrone notices instead, somehow even paler than usual. She looks so frail that Sandrone swears that a gush of wind would've blown her away. She quietly wonders what happened - she knows that the Tsaritsa repeatedly asks for Columbina's power despite her already weakening state, but she has never looked this vulnerable before.
"You look tired." She says without thinking twice.
Columbina bows her head a bit, and averts from her gaze. Must be something she doesn't want to talk about then.
"Let's not talk outside. Come on in." She quietly decides not to push for an answer. Most importantly, she doesn't like the idea of talking to the girl outside in the hall, as if a sudden breeze really would take her away and turn her into a pile of white feathers.
She doesn't miss how Columbina's face brightens upon hearing her invitation, but there's still a tinge of sadness in her expression. Like with any puzzles and unknowns, the sad look bugs her to no end. Maybe she should pursue it, ask her what is going on, push an answer out of her, but Columbina seems so genuinely happy to be in her space, that Sandrone doesn't have the heart to break the moment.
So she lets things play out naturally, lets the dark haired girl being carried away and distracted by all the things she has spread out in the room, lets the girl convince her to go to bed with her.
It's alright, Sandrone thinks, there is always a tomorrow, and she can always ask Columbina about it tomorrow. Being a goddess and a machine, time is something they are never short of. After tomorrow comes endless more tomorrows, and in one of them, she will be able to figure Columbina out, she's certain of that.
So for today, she decides to fall asleep with Columbina in her arms once again. The girl breathes lightly. Sandrone tries to keep her eyes open for a bit longer, just slightly longer, as if she really would disappear once she lets her eyes shut, like how the moonlight disappears when you open your eyes again in the morning.
Just before she is slipping into sleep, faintly, she thinks she hears Columbina muttering out an apology.