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In the dark of the night, Neuvillette finds Furina dancing outside by herself. It's a waltz, with what seems to be a partner that only exists in Furina's mind.
Furina hums the music she dances to, in a voice quiet and fragile. A stark contrast to the grandeur she regularly displayed in court. It was a form of vulnerability that Fontainians never get to witness.
It was a form of vulnerability that Neuvillette never gets entrusted to witness.
A strange feeling creeps up Neuvillette's chest, akin to the sensation brought by drinking water too alkaline. Above, it starts pouring.
Drip, drop. As the rain starts picking up pace, so does Furina slow her dancing down to a halt. She stretches one of her arms and catches the raindrops with her hand, feeling each between her fingers as if to discern something within them.
Right at the moment, she turns her head exactly to where Neuvillette is.
Furina smiles as she meets his eyes. "Oh! My dear Iudex," she says, the usual flair in her voice evident. "I see you're out on a night stroll."
Neuvillette adjusts his grip on his cane. "Lady Furina." The bitter taste endures in his mouth. He swallows.
Furina looks at him, then at the rainwater on her hands. For a moment, the look on her face turns distant— but the light quickly returns on her face.
She stretches out her hand. "You happen to be just on time, Monsieur. Come. Join me."
He does not hesitate walking towards her. "On time for what?"
The distance dissipates. Furina takes his hand, raises it, and twirls herself on it. Neuvillette's cane falls to the ground. "Why, the dance, of course." Furina adjusts her grip and gets them to a position. Curtly, Neuvillette places his other hand on her back— an immediate understanding of her intentions.
"Ta ta ta, ta ta ta, ta ta ta, ta ta ta..."
Without question, Neuvillette sways them to the rhythm of Furina's tutting, leading the dance to swift turns that makes the rainwater splash beneath their feet.
The sound of it, Neuvillette thinks, makes for good music. So he leads them to splashes and more splashes. It overtakes Furina's tutting. It becomes its own song.
"A long time ago, way before I found you by the shore," Furina starts, "the waltz was considered a preposterous display."
Neuvillette continues to sway and turn. He keeps their song playing.
"The dance was too intimate in its movements, and too easy to master. How dare they come up with such impropriety— one that can be so easily learned and copied, at that! It's almost blasphemous!"
Neuvillette makes a particularly big splash, and Furina giggles.
"Almost blasphemous, they said, and yet—!" Furina's grip tightens, and her body comes closer. Neuvillette's breath hitches minutely. "And yet there I was— their god, whose sanctity they wished to honor— wondering about the warmth an intimacy like that could bring."
Furina fixes her gaze at the space beyond Neuvillette's shoulders— blatantly away from his eyes. Her attention is on a distance that Neuvillette couldn't hope to reach, and the bitter taste in his mouth endures, and latches on his tongue, and he swallows, yet the lump in his throat remains solid and unmoving.
The rain pours harder, louder.
Their song fades in it.
With no music to dance to, their waltz loses its rhythm— yet they remain swaying. They remain close and huddled within the reach of each other's breaths.
Perhaps Furina is starting to feel fatigue. She puts their raised arms down, lays her forehead on his shoulder, and breathes.
A moment like that, then—
"My dear dragon," she says, meeting Neuvillette's eyes, and focusing on them as much as she can amidst the heavy rainfall that obscured her sight. She unclasps their hands. Brings hers to his cheek. Then she thumbs the space under his eye, as if doing so can wipe away the insistent raindrops falling on it. "Why do you weep?"
His grip on her back firms. "I apologize."
"Is my performance not up to your standards?"
"That's hardly the case."
"Then why?"
Neuvillette's mind was as hazy as the cloudy skies of the night. His heart, as unclear as their view in the rain. He may have a million reasons. He may have one. But none of them he can have the strength to articulate.
Furina sighs. Drops her forehead back to him.
But perhaps, his inability to articulate them does not mean he desires to keep them contained.
And so it pours.
And the rain fills them with all sorts of sensations— with cold, with dampness, with a tingling that hits all parts of the skin exposed to the air.
In these overwhelming sensations does Neuvillette find leverage.
He leans closer to Furina. For now is the only chance he has— now that he's allowed to fill the gap in Furina's waltz; allowed to momentarily provide the warmth she so seeks.
She smells of fresh waters— crisp, yet delicate. An exquisiteness no other body of water in Teyvat can ever hope to match.
And in the guise of a raindrop finding its space to land, he presses his soft lips on her hair.
In this fleeting moment, he allows himself to indulge.