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Sometimes she felt like she understood Ashru, her pet cat, to a certain degree. Especially now, thought Nefer, as she took off her shoes on the porch of her beloved Curatorium of Secrets.
She gingerly picked her heels and tiptoed inside, instantly grateful for the covers and warmth from the pouring rain, safe under the roof of the place she’d called home.
Her second home, if not the first—for she had spent more nights sleeping on the sparse couch far more often than her own bed at her flat somewhere in the city. She couldn’t help it, of course, work came first.
It had been her usual routine for the past few years; getting back to her workplace after she herself sniffed her surroundings. Sure, she had eyes everywhere, but what better than having her claws on every scratchable surface, right?
What came after was paperwork. Mountains of paperwork, ready to be tackled one by one. For she had to move her pieces as well from her wall of information. Her chess pieces, convenient to be disposed of at any time.
Yet perhaps, she admitted begrudgingly, some chess pieces were just too important to be discarded.
Take the Knight—or the Queen, or even the pawns, for example. Essential atop the board, especially the latter. Often perceived as a piece that could be thrown away, pawns were simply just too crucial.
They brought news from beyond Nod-Krai, and if nurtured in the right way, they’d grow into formidable figures. Much like her darling apprentice, in that case.
Sure, Jahoda still had years of experience worth to be explored in her future—but even Nefer had acknowledged the effort and growth that girl had undergone thus far.
She rarely admitted that, be it on papers or verbally, but a certain Frostmoon Scions’ leader had incessantly told her to actually give compliments whenever they’re due.
Especially to Jahoda, said Lauma to her a few moons back during their usual weekly meeting. Both had discussed the Fatuis and their growing business North of Nod-Krai. Destructive ones, according to Lauma, to which, Nefer agreed.
While she did not share the love for the forest as deep as Lauma did for her trees, Nefer understood that machinery should never trample Mother Nature to begin with.
So yes, Nefer had assented to Lauma and her observations. More often than not, these days, and Ashru had these smug looks on his face whenever that happened.
That cat could sense everything, it seemed. Truly, the vessel of the God of the Desert.
Speaking of which, the same cat greeted her at the doorsteps, meowing softly in hope to gain Nefer’s attention.
And Nefer, being a good parent to her sole cat, picked him up and stroked the feline lovingly. She had taken off her coat first, of course, lest Ashru would protest due to the dampness of the fabric.
Coming home to a warm room and being greeted by her beloved cat was one of her highlights of the day. The latest addition to that would be—
“Nefer?” called someone from somewhere deeper in the Curatorium of Secrets. “Oh dear, you’re soaked! Let me get you a towel first.”
—that. Or rather, whom.
It was Lauma who greeted her, concern etched on her fair face, as the taller woman draped a towel on Nefer’s head and gently dried her hair off. She then motioned the short-haired woman to sit and to discard her soaked clothes, already shouldering clean and warm clothes for Nefer.
Such a gesture was so innocent, especially considering it was Lauma who did that. And still, Nefer—being Nefer—would never pass up an opportunity to tease her dearest friend.
“Are you so eager to see me with no clothes on, Lauma?” laughed Nefer, cackling slightly, but she did as she was told.
As she slowly stripped herself bare in front of the Moonchanter, she started to wonder to herself; she usually wouldn’t even do what people told her to do. Yet when Lauma was the one asking, Nefer often found herself agreeing without question.
Contrary to her own surprise, however, she herself did not reject the idea either. Of her concurring to Lauma’s soft requests.
Never demands, no, always requests. Worded so eloquently elegant the Boss of the Curatorium of Secrets had no choice but to assent (she had the choice to deny, of course, but she did not dare to be the source of woes for the taller woman).
“Do not jest, Nefer. I don’t want you to get ill.” Sighed Lauma, completely unpreturbed by the now-bare woman in front of her.
Nefer swore she saw a flicker of something in those bright eyes of her business partner as she finally shed the last piece of clothing from her slightly shivering body—okay, it is cold, she admitted to herself.
But a little bit of cold was worth the look from Lauma, albeit the fact that it lasted for just a second. She’d pursue it later; she’d grill the woman with questions until she gained her truth.
“Happy, now?” Smirked Nefer, standing as bare as the day she was born, without any shame because she knew Lauma would never do anything inappropriate without her consent.
To her surprise, however, Lauma nodded once, her eyes shone with satisfaction and an underlying pride. As for why and what, Nefer would definitely have had to probe her later.
Usually, she’d done her set of questionnaires right on the spot when the moment happened, but to her own shame, she too was caught with surprise.
“Very.” Stated Lauma, devoid of her usual gentle tone.
The answer was very brisk. A single word that left thousands of questions swirling inside Nefer’s head. There was no malice nor any anger in there, she was sure of that. But the tone! It was a far cry from how the Moonchanter would usually answer her teasing.
“Now sit down for a bit, would you, Nefer?” It was a question as much as it was a command. A request. “I’ll brew you a cup of hot tea—that flavour imported from Sumeru you liked so much.”
And Lauma said all that while she draped the warm, fresh garment around her figure. Circling Nefer’s shoulder with ease as she did so, which left the shorter woman dumbfounded.
She was one surprise away from asking ‘what are we’ to Lauma. And it was really so not on-brand of her, to ask a sentimental question akin to that.
Suffice to say, that would mean she was confessing her feelings to the Frostmoon Scions’ leader. A feeling she still questioned herself every waking day, and it festered even more. It bloomed into a lush garden whenever Lauma visited her workplace.
She’d be here at least once a week—supplied Nefer to herself, clearing her throat as she nodded and dutifully sat on the couch.
Thankfully, Ashru was there, so Nefer busied her jittery hands, quelling the sudden batch of nervousness she felt, by stroking the fur of her cat lovingly. A therapeutic routine whenever she felt the need to think.
Lauma and Nefer were like the moon and, well, something darker and murkier than the moon. She itched to say something as sinister as the Abyss itself, but she knew how powerful a word was.
So she settled with that—whatever was darker than the moon, yet not as malicious as the Abyss.
She was self-aware, of course. Nefer was not a saint nor a hero. She could be mean whenever she had to be mean to others. Something that the Moonchanter couldn’t even feel, as a start.
Well, perhaps that one deer woman also had her time, when she wanted to just say hurtful things to others. Yet she retained her will.
Therein lies their gap; Nefer with her knife-like words, and Lauma with her breezy sentences.
And they bickered a lot, which seemed to be an understatement considering they would definitely have had an argument, or two, whenever they met.
Be it whenever they met accidentally on the streets of Nod-Krai, or during official business meetings, or even during their weekly visits. Which, honestly, the number Lauma had been a visitor to the Curatorium was really growing, now that Nefer thought about it.
And it wasn’t like they argued about something that was worth being published in the newspapers or any tabloids in Teyvat.
Sure, they talked about why the moon had silvery hues instead of other colours, or why cats meow, or why Lakkaberies grew even in the harshest conditions and weather—but often times, they talked about trivial and mundane things.
Or something more personal to them both. Silly, but personal. They could be as silly as why Lauma was so self-sacrificing, or why Nefer was so hypocritical at times.
Lately, they’d often found themselves having a heated debate about what to cook for dinner, or who got the privilege to cuddle with Ashru.
Once, both had a fifteen-minute showdown in front of Jahoda over who should travel together with the girl. And that wasn’t for a mission; no, it was for a simple cake delivery to Aino’s and Ineffa’s doorstep.
A gluten-free cake, mind you, courtesy of Lauma and Ineffa—they wanted to spoil little Aino while making sure she had something healthy for her gut. Archons know how many sweets the young girl had ingested over the past couple of months.
Whenever she had the chance to sit and reflect back to their many banters, Nefer felt something she thought she wasn’t capable of feeling.
In short, it brought a weird sense of warmth to Nefer’s usually cold heart. Once, she thought she was immune to such feelings. Fickle and unnecessary.
And yet these days, she would willingly strain her neck just to be graced with a glimpse of the Moonchanter’s majestic antlers.
I’ve gotten as soft as Ashru’s belly, it seems—lamented Nefer inwardly, sighing as she did so, lost in her own myriad of thoughts.
Not quite as different as an anchor, Lauma grounded Nefer far beyond what she had expected when she started to feel a… certain spark whenever the taller woman was around.
Her gentle words and gentle touches brought salvation to the garden of spikes inside Nefer’s heart.
As if on cue, the Boss of the Curatorium of Secrets felt a soft touch on her cheek before said hand travelled to her forehead and lingered there for a while.
“Does the esteemed Miss Lauma think that I’m too feeble and so prone to illness, she has to personally check me with her healing touches?” Goaded Nefer, she couldn’t help but throw the sharp words.
Others would cower. Lauma? She frowned and did not move her scars-laden palm from Nefer’s forehead.
Granted, the taller woman used to hide her reactions, perhaps unwilling to show her displeasure. However, Lauma quickly caught on to the fact that Nefer hardly cared about her business partners’ reactions.
While not one to lie, Lauma did use to mince her words when she had to show her infuriation to Nefer. She’d use diplomatic words, so used to appeasing her folks, it seemed.
No wonder that one Ratnik believed that Lauma could move even the coldest of hearts during dire times.
And hers too, unfortunately, sighed Nefer for the umpteenth time that night—which only fueled the woman in front of her whose frown had deepened.
“Cease your sullen look, Moonchanter,” hummed Nefer. “I’d rather not see them marring your fair face.”
Damn this mouth running faster than my thoughts, lamented the Boss of the Curatorium of Secrets, concealing her own surprise by pulling Lauma’s hand from her forehead, holding them hostage between her own.
“I’m fine—a little cold due to the rain, but otherwise I’m right as rain.” Smirked the short-haired woman at her own little jokes.
She knew it would garner her a sigh or two from the Moonchanter. And she was right, apparently, for Lauma let out her breath in a dejected way.
“Then I’d rather have you safe and sound between my arms than out there under the embrace of a cold night.” Replied Lauma, which stunned Nefer to no end.
She had to recover quickly, or else Lauma would see her flustered face. Not that it would be a problem in the very first place, really. Merely a personal preference.
To hide her true self and what she felt, especially from the one who could perceive her with her gentle gaze.
“Oh, Lauma, I didn’t know you have your way with words,” laughed Nefer to conceal her momentary surprise. “One of these days I’m going to steal you away and announce you mine—imagine the business! Oh, it would thrive!”
Two could play the game, and instead of being flustered—which honestly was what Nefer thought she’d got from the other woman, she got a simple hum.
As if Lauma was actually entertaining herself with the thought of being Nefer’s.
“I do not mind that,” replied Lauma. “Being recognised as yours would mean more protection for my people.”
And before she could throw a rebuttal, Lauma butted in what suspiciously sounded like another heartfelt confession.
“Although, I’m not sure I’d be an adequate lover for you, Miss Nefer.” Supplied the Moonchanter with a forlorn sigh.
The audacity, thought Nefer as she listened to the sentence, was spewed in the tone of a kicked puppy, and the other woman was supposed to be a deer!
“Please, Moonchanter, everyone would be jealous of me—snagging their beloved priestess for my own agenda.” Deflected Nefer, voice rich with indignation.
In all Nod-Krai and possibly all across Teyvat, Lauma of all people, shouldn’t think so low of herself.
She should be proud! screeched Nefer inside her mind. The whole Frostmoon Scions thrived under her leadership. Not to mention, the forest in Nod-Krai grew lush and full of life because of her.
She who brought more trouble for the Fatui shouldn’t ever think that low of herself. Even the Fatui themselves would nod at her observations about Lauma.
“So please, no more of those dark thoughts. Come, sit beside me—you said you’d rather have me warm in your arms, or was it a lie, dearest Lauma?” Another provoking words launched from Nefer’s mouth.
But it worked wonders, for the tall woman finally sat beside Nefer. Stiff at first, but she slowly allowed herself to relax.
For Nefer, it was kind of funny, considering she was being comforted by the other woman when she returned home, drenched from the rain.
It was what made their partnership so dear to her. Each could be a moor to the others when needed.
Contrary to popular belief (and by popular, she meant what the people on Hiisi Island believed), Lauma, too, was humane. She needed comfort and caring, too, much like others.
It was a fact that often got overlooked by those under Lauma’s ever-benevolent hands. They thought their leader was some invincible and magnanimous figure with no need for relaxation and whatnots.
Well, they were wrong. So very wrong, and she was glad–and honoured–she could witness those sides of Lauma.
Thus here they were, huddled together on the wide couch, shoulder to shoulder—and for a while, neither spoke.
Not that it was an uncomfortable silence, rather, it was a welcome distraction. For both of them, to sort their thoughts, with just the sounds of their soft breaths and the occasional clinks of cups between them.
“I mean it,” whispered Lauma out of nowhere, breaking the quiet moment between them with words so hushed yet it heralded power beyond what both could have guessed.
“I’d rather have you between my arms, warm and safe from—”
“—from the cold and harsh world?” Interjected Nefer, her hollow laugh drowned by the sound of rain roaring on the outside.
It almost took her back to the life she had lived in the past. When basic needs like water were a luxury, people would wage a war against each other to get them.
“Yes.” Affirmed Lauma, not missing a beat. “And from your own innumerable maze of nightmarish memories.”
Had it been someone else, or had it been another day, Nefer would scowl. She’d show them the true meaning of what poking someone with a stick would do to them.
However, this was Lauma—gentle and kind, and Nefer would be lying to herself if she tried to convince her own mind that no, she wasn’t in love with the other woman.
Nefer thrived at lying; Lauma frowned on liars.
“I’ll hold you to that.” Hummed Nefer at the end. Not a lie, not a truth either. A safe and harmless sentence. The right answer.
And Lauma answered her silently. Her hand gently took hers, and Nefer couldn’t help but to seek the warmth even more.
With full deliberation, the Boss of the Curatorium of Secrets leaned her head onto Lauma’s broader and stronger shoulder. She had to bask herself in the tender and fragile moment shared between them.
Parched like she was in her younger days, this time for affection from the one she yearned for the most.
And she couldn’t help but to scoff at herself. She ruined so many things with her touch, with her hands, with her words, with her—
“Nefer,” oh, she was spiraling, and Lauma noticed. “Breathe. Slowly. Inhale, exhale—that’s it. You’re safe, okay?”
She nodded along at Lauma’s comforting words, turned herself slightly to regard the other woman better.
“Where did you wander to, I wonder?” Questioned Lauma so softly it made Nefer want to cry for a bit.
But she held herself, to prove what, she had no idea. It was just her natural response at this point to shove everything into a jar that would be sealed quite immediately.
It almost worked with Lauma, because apparently, the Moonchanter knew how to open even the most tightly shut jars. A woman of many talents, really.
“Nowhere.” She said quickly. But then, she revised it. “Just a spin on the memory lane; unpleasant ones, but thank you for pulling me back to the present, Moonchanter.”
Nefer knew Lauma was about to object when she said ‘nowhere’ earlier, but her amendment had appeased the Leader of the Frostmoon Scions.
There was worry present in the others’ bright eyes, but they were slowly replaced by something else—a sign that Lauma was willing to trust the answer given to her just now, and Nefer would not break that trust.
The comfortable silence settled back, this time accompanied by gentle strokes of hand atop of Nefer’s. Courtesy of Lauma, of course.
It went along with a few banters between them. They even played a guessing game, each gave their answers on who might still be outside of their house in this weather.
One mentioned a man bearing a lantern, and another said a bubbly girl with blonde hair and a metal arm. But alas, it was another shared, silly conversation between them.
It carried on for a while, and they had made themselves comfortable on the couch to the point their faces were inches away from each other.
That, doubled with Nefer’s hands hovering close to the Moonchanter’s radiant face, and the latter’s hands somewhere near Nefer’s waist.
“I wonder,” started Nefer, feeling both mischievous and melancholic at the same time. “How many have been graced with this side of yours, Lauma?”
She was referring to their close proximity and, beyond that, the many nights shared under the same roof.
It was a valid question, according to Nefer, because there was no denying that Lauma and her people were as tight-knit as ever. Surely this was just Lauma being kind to everyone, right?\
Except perhaps it wasn’t the case, for that question of hers resulted in a stifle.
It resulted in a silence, followed by an aghast-looking Lauma, and then—
“Miss Nefer!” exclaimed Lauma, affronted. “Do you seriously think I’m willing to do this with everyone?”
“Not everyone,” defended Nefer, slightly embarrassed by how absolutely scandalised the other woman looked. “Just— certainly not just to me.”
“Oh, Nefer, how could you be so astutely sharp-minded yet struggle to grasp my intention?” Lamented Lauma, and it elicited a defiant gasp from Nefer.
She jabbed one of her fingers at Lauma’s collarbone. “Are you calling me stupid?”
“What—no! A bit dense, probably, but never stupid,” sighed the accused woman. “And stubborn to a fault, too.”
And Lauma got a pair of eyes rolled at her, but it made her smile, and she took the moment to pull the other woman closer. If anything, she disregarded the neutral ground and professionalism that lies between the Frostmoon Scions and the Curatorium of Secrets.
So close, in fact, Nefer swore she could see her own reflections as clear as any mirror through the Moonchanter’s eyes.
“Okay, let me spell it out to you then,” began Lauma, and Nefer held her breath.
She should’ve bolted out as was her usual response to uncertain situations, thought the short-haired woman. But she wanted to listen to what her longtime business partner was about to say.
And although she had an idea of what might be said, a small part of herself couldn’t help but to think that it was not something she’d like.
Perhaps Lauma was just about to express her disappointment and displeasure about Nefer in the softest, gentlest, and—
“I’m in love with you, Miss Nefer,” asserted Lauma, as earnest as ever. “With your permission, and if you let me, I wish to court you properly.”
Nefer expected that. In fact, it was in second place after the possibility of Lauma saying she was a disappointment, a lost cause, or something akin to that.
Really, she expected that. And yet, she was still stunned.
So stunned in fact, to the point she started thinking about venues for their wedding.
Mayhaps a private one, the moon as their witness. Or what should she address the other woman as from now on—darling? honey? dearest?
She had to retain herself first. Too soon, too soon, reprimanded Nefer inwardly.
She had to answer the deer-woman in front of her. One second longer and Lauma might think she had been rejected.
Her initial observation was top-notch, of course, for she could see Lauma was about to apologise. The trembling hands between her own gave it away.
“I’m sorry—no,” began Nefer, and she almost groaned out loud.
It sounded very similar to a rejection, and she berated herself for how messy she had handled the situation at this point.
So she tried again, painstakingly clearing her throat as she did so.
“No. Lauma—listen,” started the woman once more. “What I was going to say is, before my embarrassing mini-meltdown, yes; of course I’d let you to court me.”
It sounded shallow to her own ears, so she took a deep breath and let out an exhale. It was necessary, thought Nefer, to ground herself.
“Yes, Lauma, I’d let you court me—in fact, I’d be hard-pressed not to,” assented Nefer; this time, a shaky smile bloomed on her face.
And she laughed at the absurdity of it all. Chuckles at first, cascaded into a full-bodied laugh, and she had to steady herself by leaning her forehead on Lauma’s shoulder.
“Oh, Lauma, how could I not let you?” she sighed at the end. “My moon, my light, I’d say yes over and over again.”
She sounded bashful, but she couldn't care less. The woman she had grown fond of just admitted her love to Nefer. And here she thought she was a lost cause—unworthy of love.
So she revelled and took it all. She inhaled and exhaled softly until she felt herself calm enough to look at the object of her desire.
Again, her treacherous mind bludgeoned her with whispered words—saying that the Moonchanter was just joking. But how could she.
How could Lauma, when her fair face was adorned with the gentlest smile. When her hands were soft and grounding. When her whole presence announced no ingenuity.
“Thank you, Nefer,” was what she settled for when Nefer came back to her senses.
Perhaps she was afraid she had made Nefer feel uncomfortable with her confession. A habit of Lauma’s, noted Nefer. That woman always put others at the very front before her own self.
A trait that, according to Jahoda, could be seen on Nefer, too—and while she was reluctant to admit it, she had her self-sacrificing moments as well.
It was what unified them both, as much as it had destroyed both. Still, it led them to where they are right now.
It led Nefer to her anchor. To the ever-patient and saint-like woman in front of her who had been clasping her hands as if they were the dearest thing in the world this whole time.
Gradually, Lauma raised her hands, asking quiet permission from Nefer—which she consented—to put those hands close to her lips, kissing them gently.
As corny and as silly as it sounded, Nefer truly felt like her hands had been kissed by the moonlight.
It spoke volumes and promises. Of good memories ahead of them, no matter how harsh and dire the situations might be around them.
Yet alas, even in the utmost tender moments like these, the competitive side of Nefer just won’t back down. Especially because she was with Lauma, her verbal-match partner.
So yes, it was only fitting, according to Nefer, for her to return the gesture.
Thus, with the same fondness, she kissed her newfound lover’s hands, right on the palms.
Each scar exhibited the truth about Lauma’s unblemished character. Of her kindness, often taken for granted by others.
Nefer visited each mark one by one, bestowing feathery pecks upon them. If Lauma was her anchor, then Nefer, too, could be a safe haven for the Moonchanter.
This, decided Nefer, was another good thing that had happened to her ever since she had almost sacrificed her sight during the battle against that blasted man from Khaenri’ah.
She counted her blessings, and each wove threads upon threads of warm feelings in her heart.
A warmth strong enough to withstand even the harshest rain—like the one pattering outside the building, showing no sign of ceasing anytime soon.
They stayed there on the spacious couch, close to each other, and spoke in a hushed voice, until both felt that sleep should be a concern of theirs.
Except it was not a concern to begin with, for they’ve had shared beds countless times before—never crossed the line beyond literally sleeping together.
There would be time for that in the future. Plenty of time for them to walk towards that uncharted territory.
Hence that night, Nefer gently took Ashru between her arms and walked to her bedroom as the Moonchanter tidied their empty cups before she followed where her lover had gone to.
Lauma then settled on the bed as well, with Nefer snuggled comfortably between her arms—safe and warm, as had been promised to her earlier.
And it felt right for them.
It felt like coming home to a cup of warm tea on a rainy day.