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In the years that pass, they never bring Callas up again. It's simply something that isn't done – the first and only time Clorinde tried bringing it up after the Great Flood, Navia had screamed at her before kicking her out of Poisson like a wet dog. She didn't speak to Clorinde for a week after that. Their relationship might have ended before it started, if Clorinde hadn't gotten the bright idea of bringing a selection of pastries and tarts as a peace offering.
Growing older has tempered their more ferocious tendencies, smoothed out the kinks in their relationship. Navia is still boisterous – Clorinde does not think that should ever change – but she is slower to anger now. She is still the effervescent President of the Spina, but she has learned to speak softly and carry a big stick. In some ways she has become Callas more than she ever thought she would be. But it's not difficult for Clorinde to look a little closer and see that Navia is not her father. It is not difficult at all for those who are willing to take the time.
And Clorinde – Clorinde doesn't leave the house as much as she used to. She used to go off into the woods with nothing but her rifle and blow off whatever was bothering her until her cartridge ran empty and her trigger finger ached. She smiles more now. She no longer dreams about Callas or any of the people she's slain, her head too full of the here and now and Navia to have much space for the ghosts of her past.
This is absolution, the forgiveness and grace they have extended to each other so that twelve years on, they are no longer hot-headed young adults pulled around by the machinations of forces greater than them. Navia will always be the President of the Spina, but she trusts her subordinates to manage the daily ins and outs of the organisation without her having to meddle and worry. Clorinde will always be Fontaine's most eminent Champion Duelist, the instrument of the state that swore to uphold justice, until she resigned and gave up the mantle completely.
Things have changed more than they have stayed still. For one, they have a beautiful house in the Court, right next to Furina's apartment complex. Neuvillette helped accelerate the conveyancing processes so she and Navia could move in quickly. Clorinde's not a fool – while she and Neuvillette have a good relationship, she knows that it is a function of Neuvillette's everlasting gaze on his Archon that moves him to make Furina's post-Archon life easier.
Furina has grown older, of course. Age has not caught up to her like it catches up to the beautiful older Fontainian women with laugh- and frown-lines in equal measure just yet, but becoming human has touched Furina with the human quality of having to change. She hasn't aged at the same rate that Navia and Clorinde have, perhaps moving up one year for their three, but it's a welcome change to the eternity Foçalors' curse placed on her.
In the twelve years from the Great Flood, Clorinde watches Furina begin to complain about back pain and sprout a grey hair or two. She doesn't comment on the latter, letting Furina discover the physical signs of ageing for herself and chuckling softly at the commensurate shriek that echoes from Furina's apartment. (There are many other unfortunate things that come with becoming human. Furina thought she was dying the first time she got a period. Navia dug up some books the Spina held on to from their schooldays about human biology and physiology and a book called 'Your Body and You' and dropped them off at Furina's door.)
Furina talks to them often, whether it's asking them to vet a script she stayed up the whole night working on, or asking them to fight that Local Legend she's never been able to best. Navia entertains her more often than not. If Navia isn't home, Furina pouts and lays her mismatched eyes on Clorinde before asking for whatever help she needs that day. And of course, because Furina is her friend, Clorinde obliges.
Today is such a day, because Navia is busy with Spina business. Clorinde is mopping the floors when Furina barges in and begs Clorinde to come over and help because the Salon Solitaire are out of control and she's on her last warning with the building manager vis a vis flooding her apartment.
Clorinde snatches slime condensate from the freezer – it might as well be a drug for the Salon Solitaire – and spends the next twenty minutes calming the Salon Solitaire down. They don't usually get this agitated. Being manifestations of Furina's Hydro Vision, they often simply reflect Furina's state of mind.
Clorinde purses her lips as the three pets take their seats – Navia commissioned Chiori for the custom beds normally meant for pet dogs and gifted them to Furina on her first human birthday – and thinks about asking. Furina is busying herself with the last of the water on the ground, doing some manoeuvre with her fingers to gather it in a bucket, and only notices that everything is fine with the Salon Solitaire when she looks up.
"Oh!" She squeaks, throwing her arms around Clorinde. "Thank you. I was starting to think they'd never calm down."
"Don't mention it," Clorinde snorts, patting Furina on the head. She clears her throat. "To anyone, actually. Navia wanted to use that slime condensate for some baking."
"Navia lets you get away with everything," Furina scolds as they part, "You must give her more credit."
"I do," Clorinde protests.
Furina lets the silence hang in the air for a bit, and then says softly, unusually pensive, "I'm happy you found her again, Clorinde. You might not know this, but I watched over the two of you from the moment you were born. I knew your destinies would intersect… No, intertwine. I may not have been a true Archon, but I could still watch over you. I'm happy you found each other."
Clorinde blinks dumbly, caught off guard at the sincere confession. It's moments like these that remind Clorinde that there is incredible depth in the Hydro Archon. (She has not stopped thinking of Furina as her Archon, even after the ruse was first revealed. There is too much at stake for both of them otherwise.)
"Thank you." Furina's expression is faraway, so Clorinde tries to get her back down, "Is that what's bothering you?"
"Huh?" Furina's face clears. She frowns, "No, I don't think– I don't think it was that at all. You and Navia have been an– an absolute dream, yes. Great neighbours to have, especially in matters of slime condensate."
Clorinde says nothing, just giving her a look. Furina has had plenty of time to acquaint herself with this look over the past twelve years – really, even in the before times, when Clorinde served as her sword and shield in her capacity as her personal guard, it was this look that would bring down some of Furina's pretenses and have her confess to something or the other. Sometimes it was things like I admit it, I ate the macarons, I had no idea they were for you!
Other times it would be things that, while Clorinde could not have hoped to know or understand at the time, hinted at the distress Furina had been subject to for half a millennia.
Look, Clorinde, Furina would say from her seat in the Opera Epiclese, for their ears only as they watched some defense lawyer or another resolutely raise legal precedents to argue for a lighter sentence. Furina didn't often stay the full length of a hearing – that was, and is, Neuvillette's job – and so when she chose to watch the proceedings, it meant that something had caught her eye.
Clorinde never figured out what might pique Furina's interest, and it wasn't her duty to do so, anyway. Her duty was to stay by Furina's side and make sure her Archon came to no harm. She wonders absently if she will ever stop feeling this protective of Furina. Sometimes, when she casts her mind back, she is by Furina's side again, her rapier in its sheath ready to be drawn, Furina staring down at the legal battle beneath and saying things she would not even say to Neuvillette.
Humans try so hard, Furina would say, watching Clorinde's face intently for a flicker of a response before continuing, Even when everything is hopelessly doomed, you try. Isn't that something?
"Fine," the Furina of the present admits sheepishly, "I was looking over a script the Rosula Troupe sent over."
"Oh?" Clorinde says carefully. Navia mentioned some Spina members were interested in forming a theatre troupe, if not to perform to the public, then just so that they'd have something to do in the off-season. She didn't think the troupe would be assembled this fast, and makes a note to ask Navia about this later. It must've slipped her mind. Navia does not keep secrets from her. "Is it a bad script?"
Furina walks over to her dresser, where a sheaf of papers messily lies, and picks it up, thumbing through the pages in nervous compulsion.
"It's a love story, of course, and the two star-crossed lovers are separated by the gulf between the Court and Poisson. The lovers are the first to find out about the Great Prophecy, and they try to prevent it. There are side characters on both sides who tell them not to bother, but they try." Furina blinks hard, and for the first time, Clorinde realizes that Furina is holding back tears.
With artful grace, Furina says, "They don't succeed. Poisson is dissolved, and the Primordial Sea claims Fontaine."
"I thought this was a love story," Clorinde deadpans.
"It is," comes Furina's reply, "The lover from the Court of Fontaine finds out at the last moment that her lover will be one of the first casualties in the Great Flood. She jumps in after her, just as the waters rise."
"Do they survive?"
"I don't know." Furina flicks through the script again before setting it back down on the dresser. "I haven't read that far yet. I expect that they do survive, because I think this play – of course, the scriptwriter took some liberties, expansive liberties, really – it's obvious that it's about you and Navia."
She knows where this conversation is headed, now. Furina has never stopped blaming herself for the deaths in Poisson. The people of Poisson have forgiven her, grieving and moving on with the rise and set of the sun, but Furina carries the guilt with her like a scarlet letter. Always, it comes back to this, Furina thinking about all the ways she could have, and didn't , save Fontaine.
It was never your duty to save us, Clorinde thinks. She has said as much to Furina. But time has a way of preserving one's worst memories and making off with the good, and so she knows that she will never be able to fully dispel the pain Furina holds within her.
"You don't have to do this play," Clorinde says quietly, padding over to Furina. "I'll talk to Navia about it, and you won't have to beleaguer yourself with this any further. Okay?"
As if summoned, she hears Navia hollering Clorinde's name next door, and despite herself and the situation, smiles.
Furina smiles fondly, and shakes her head, "No, don't bother yourself with it. I'll deal with this myself, alright? Go and be with your beloved."
Furina nods encouragingly, gesturing for Clorinde to leave her apartment with a wave of her hand. Performative, she huffs haughtily. "Clorinde, I order you to go! Am I not the humanity of the Archon Focalors? Do you not trust me to take care of myself? It's only natural for the written word to move one's heart!"
Clorinde's lip quirks as she pushes the door open, Furina rushing her out and tutting at her reluctance to leave.
"I love you, Furina," she says, kissing the top of Furina's head. Furina's shoulders jump when Clorinde wraps her arms around her, and Clorinde thinks she feels Furina shake with a hidden sob.
This might be cruel, telling Furina she loves her when the overwhelming flesh of Clorinde's heart is wholly Navia's, but Clorinde has never been good at putting on airs. She doesn't lie. She is Furina's sword and shield, and that is one of few things that will not change.
But that is where Clorinde's love stops. She can hear Navia singing, hear her startled yelp just before some pots and pans come crashing to the ground in their home. Her love must be evident on her face, because Furina pats her gently and nods towards the door, saying, Come on, go home to her.
"I'm always around, Lady Furina," Clorinde says, and makes sure Furina hears it before she shuts the door and goes home.