Heart of the Sea
⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 Summary.
A serene jazz songstress slowly makes her way through the artistic ranks of Fontaine—hoping to eventually connect the dots to her past and lost memories through music. And as she always says, "People come and go as the tides of the sea do."
⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 A/N.
cw for injuries and blood in this one!! anais may have had an Accident.
⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 AO3 Link.
⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 Chapter W.C.
1348.
⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 CW.
Fluff. Blood & Injuries.
Chapter 2 — Foolish Feelings.
"Hey, Anais, how much tea do we have left?"
It's the start of the work day for Kafka and Anais. It's not as rainy as it was last week, thankfully. It's been sunny more often than not, even the summer heat is beginning to settle in. While it doesn't get too hot in Fontaine, it sure does get humid—sweaty and sticky for everyone…
Kafka often insists on keeping the studio windows open, though, to help battle the beast that is the heat. The soft, salty breezes that waft in from the lake help cool down Dernière Danse Studio…even if it's only a little. She's so glad Anais nor the passing patrons ever mention how she gleams from sweat on stage.
Even when she's sitting down to play an instrument, she still manages to collect quite the amount of sweat drops on her body from singing alone…
"…All we have left is Aquarose for tea," Anais says, her voice bland like a blank piece of parchment. She shuffles through the bar shelves, looking through what they have left. "Mostly just water over here." She scoffs.
"Well, looks like we've been running out of drinks faster since the Chief Justice and the Melusines came over last week…" Kafka laughs wearily.
More expenses to worry about…
"More people." Anais shrugs, straightening her back as she rises again to her full height. "I can steal some more—"
"L-Let's not…" Kafka chuckles nervously and waves her white gloved hands in a "please don't" gesture.
"Alright." Anais lets the offer roll off her shoulders. She wasn't too committed to the idea anyway. "Uh… I can go collect ingredients by hand."
"N-No worries, really. I can go do it this weekend." Her boss sighs and shakes her head.
"…Fine." The bartender brushes it off. She hardly wants to get into an argument, anyway… Arguments remind her too much of court proceedings. How awful.
A big gust of chilly wind rattles the windows, pushing past the velvety red curtains and making Anais' long white hair dance. Her dull grey eyes glance at the windows, watching the thin curtains flutter about. As she gazes at the wooden paned windows, the wind reminds her of her recently gained Anemo Vision. Her eyes flicker down to the soft glow of the vibrant mint-colored Vision before scoffing and shrugging the memory off.
Who would've thought that simply being hired by a small-time songstress would grant someone a dinky little Vision…?
To Anais, Kafka deserves the Vision more than herself or anyone else in this god-forsaken country.
—
That evening, the wind only serves to get colder as the sunset waxes. And as always, people come and go from the quaint, antique establishment—as the tides of the sea do, as Kafka likes to say. Tonight, the mulberry-haired songstress sings her favorite love songs to the tune of a little, fine-tuned lyre (while claiming it's right from Mondstadt.)
As the sunset finally begins to wane in color and vibrance, the four same Melusines from last week come bounding into the building. This time they drag along than none other the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide. He doesn't look even half as perturbed by this outing as the Iudex was. But maybe that's simply Neuvillette's always tired expression to blame.
Once the small group finds a comfortable table to sit at, Anais approaches them with a forced neutral face. She holds a quill pen and notepad, her hands subtly shaking.
"Welcome." She says, "Nice to see you again, girls." Her brows knit for a fleeting moment when she forces her voice to sound sweeter.
"Hello!" The four Melusines wave.
"…We don't have much to serve tonight. Only Aquarose tea and water. Sorry to rain on your parade." Anais blinks; her mouth a thin line that forces itself to not turn upside down in distraught.
"That's no problem," Sedene reassures. "Let's have some water?" She looks to her fellow Melusines, who all nod in agreement. "What do you want, Duke?" She looks up to the tough-looking man.
"…I'll try that Aquarose tea. I've never heard of it before." Wriothesley smiles a little at the girls (who had stuck stickers to his back earlier without his knowing.)
"Sure. Four water. One tea." The bartender nods before quickly departing back to her usual area at the tattered wooden bar.
"Hmm…" He hums, icy eyes narrowing at the woman stride away at a rather quick pace—one certainly too fast for such a small place. What if she had run into something?
"What's wrong?" Menthe asks, immediately noticing his thoughtful demeanor.
"Oh, nothing. Don't worry about it." He shakes his head, his salt and pepper locks bouncing with the motion. "She seems familiar, that's all." He shrugs.
"Oh, okay." She shrugs before her head snaps to watch Kafka's performance.
When Anais overhears the very brief conversation about her "familiarity," she shatters a glass cup in her hand. The noise from her grip shattering the cup is audible… Too audible. It makes the attending group jolt in surprise. The five of them are already rushing to the bar counter to check on her… Only to see her hand grasping sharp shards of glass and crimson blood seeping through her tightened fingers.
"Haha. Whoops." She says stiffly.
"Whoops?!" Muirne gasps, "We should get you checked out—!" She waves her hands back and forth frantically.
"…It's okay." She lies, but truth be told, she hardly feels the pain.
Nothing can really compare to the pain of prison, anyhow.
"It isn't okay, on the contrary." Wriothesley interjects, "Let me help pick up the shards. Where's the broom—" He offers, face stern and hardy.
"I said it's fine." And then she suddenly collapses onto the floor with a loud thump when she looks down at her bloody hand.
That's when Kafka finally arrives at the scene, holding up her sleek maroon dress as she rushes over. She sighs shakily, her spare hand wiping the sweat from her brow.
"I'm so sorry, all of you…" Kafka apologizes with a weary, weak smile. "I'll take care of her…" She shakes her head.
"Let me help." Wriothesley insists, "Girls, can you get home? It'll be a while." He glances down at them.
"You sure, Duke?" Sedene whispers, "We want to help too…"
"It'll be fine with the two of us." He smiles, patting the small Melusine's head.
"Alright…" Sedene nods, "Let's go home. Maybe next week…?" She hightails it out of the studio with her friends.
"Alright, Duke… Can you clean up the glass? I'll bring her upstairs to take care of the wounds." Kafka offers.
He readily agrees, "Of course."
After gaining the broom, he begins to clean up the mess of glass and blood. Not the first time he's ever dealt with blood, thankfully. But it seems like it was her first time… After all, she fainted at the sight of the rosy wounds.
Meanwhile, Kafka takes her upstairs to treat the self-inflicted wounds. Once done cleaning and wrapping up her hand, she leaves Anais on her own bed in the loft to rest for a while. Returning to the first floor, she notices Wriothesley finishing up his duty to clean.
"I'm so sorry about all that, Duke…" Kafka apologizes with a soft sigh.
"It's alright. But, I can't say I've seen someone faint at the sight of blood before." He shrugs, putting the broom away.
"She may not look like it, but Anais is a fragile young lady. She's had a rough time…" She shakes her head, a frown prints on her face.
"…Anais?" He blinks rapidly on repeat, that name is all too familiar. It leaves an almost bittersweet taste in his throat when he utters her name. But, he keeps his expression neutral enough to betray his emotions.
"Mhm." She nods, "I'll talk to her later about all…this. She needs plenty of reassurance and the occasional push to keep going, that's all. She's an oddball, but I like oddballs." She chuckles lightly.
(Anais…) He glances at the stairs that lead up to Kafka's apartment loft, (Is it really you?)
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