still figuring things out

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ It all started with a flower pot and your smile when you proudly presented it to him. Zandik gave it a quick glance, but found nothing that might pique his interest or warrant you his praise.

“What’s this?”, he simply asked.

“It will be ivy”, you replied. “If it survives this weather, I mean.”

He honestly doubted it. However, if that was what you intended to spend your free time on, who was he to discourage you? As long as you don’t forget your main duties in the lab. That was all Dottore said.

“And where are you going to put it?”

“In the bathroom, of course.”

Of course. The confidence with which you took on certain challenges, even when everything pointed to failure, sometimes made him want to simply study you as if you were an exceptionally rare specimen. It was part of your charm that fascinated him, he assumed.

The little seedling didn't even get a chance to sprout properly before it fell victim to the harsh climate. No surprises there. Still, the sight of your disappointed expression bothered him. So, Zandik decided to use this situation to carry out a little experiment and refresh his botanical knowledge.

It took him less than three days to create a fertilizer enriched with electro particles. In the meantime, you kept struggling, trying various methods – replanting the soil, watering the seedling generously, and moving the pot from the windowsill to under the lamp. It brought minimal results.

When Dottore found you in the study later, he simply placed a sachet of fertilizer beside your hand.

“Try this and tell me how effective it is”, he said, before walking back to his workstation. He could feel your grateful gaze on his back.

The results exceeded his expectations, because in less than a week, the ivy had grown to enormous proportions, its tendrils climbing up the wall and across the floor. After that, more and more pots began to appear in the bathroom, along with an ever-increasing variety of seeds imported from Sumeru.

At first, Zandik wasn’t pleased, muttering under his breath that you were needlessly cluttering up his space. He couldn’t deny, however, that the green of the leaves had a soothing effect on him while he submerged himself in the water. And the sight of the familiar flowers helped to momentarily drown out the resentment that still burned within him. ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Now, the bathroom bore no resemblance to the one that greeted your arrival. It was more colourful and vibrant, thanks to the blooming plants. On the shelves stood various oils and a stick of incense placed in a decorative vase with a woodland pattern. Alongside the hanging pots, multicoloured glass beads now dangled from the ceiling.

In the corner, right next to the overgrown ivy, stood a gramophone – a gift from a diplomat from Fontaine. Whenever you both decided to have a more romantic evening, provided there was time for that, the instrument played classical court music.

Zandik leaned his arm against the edge of the bathtub, eyes closed. His mind was blissfully free of research results, funding issues and the deadlines pressing down on the lab. Now, there was only perfectly warm water, the fragrance of rose-scented bath oil and your soft rambling.

He lazily opened his eye when you lightly nudged his ankle with your foot. Zandik was sure that you were about to accuse him of not listening. Which he wouldn’t deny. He had to admit that he had let his thoughts drift away for a few minutes, thanks to the relaxing atmosphere in the room. You, however, carried on talking, rubbing your arm with a sponge.

Ah, so that sudden touch was just an accident then. Despite that, the Doctor fixed his red gaze on you, listening intently to your words once more. From what he recalled, the last thing you had mentioned was your desire to study Moonfall Silver. But you must have moved on to another topic, though, because Zandik merely raised an eyebrow upon hearing your next words.

„I would need to carry out quite a lot of trials, you know?”, you didn’t notice his momentary distraction, staring at the flower pots hanging beside the lamp. „I mean, so many children are born every day. If each of us has their own constellation, shouldn’t the night sky shimmer like a pearls sewn onto the Tsaritsa gown by now? And this has been going on for so many centuries and will continue for just so many more. I wonder if space will ever run out on the celestial sphere.”

Because of the humidity, your cheeks were beautifully flushed. Dottore liked that shade. It was the same color as when he held you beneath him, murmuring sweet promises into your ear.

„I was wondering whether to set up a research station near a village and observe the sky for myself, but… I don’t want to stress the locals more than necessary. The mere presence of the Doctor’s assistant would cause quite a panic, and that’s not what I’m after."

You raised the sponge to your neck, pressing it against your skin. Zandik watched as the drops of water trickled down between your breasts. The air in the bathroom seemed to grow hotter. His other hand moved beneath the water towards your ankle. His fingers gently caressed your smooth skin before closing more firmly around it.

It was your turn to snap out of your thoughts. You fixed your gaze on your beloved.

„So, what do you think of that, Zand-ikk!”, you squealed when Dottore pulled your leg towards him without warning.

You plunged underwater with quite a splash, flailing your arms to regain your balance. When you surfaced three seconds later, you were spitting like a little kitten. Your hair was plastered to your face, now as red as a tomato.

„I think”, Zandik said, chuckling quietly at the sight. „That’s a bit hypocritical of you, isn’t it my dear? It was you who dragged me away from my work, whining about wanting a warm bath, only to spend the last few minutes talking about personal projects yourself.”

„You do exactly the same when you get excited about something!", you snapped, throwing a wet sponge in his direction. „You are just as much of a loudmouth as I am!”

Well, it was hard to argue with that. Zandik let out a little snort, beckoning you over with his hand and making more room between his legs.

„Ah, but there is a slight difference between us, my dear assistant. See, my ideas and calculations aren’t based on second-hand folk tales or fortune telling from the stars.”

Just as you were about to open your mouth to object, Zandik immediately cut in, grabbing the sponge you tossed earlier.

„Enough of that. Come here, y/n”.

You were still grumbling quietly under your nose but, manoeuvring carefully across the slippery bottom, you settled comfortably in front of your lover.

Zandik brushed the wet hair away from your neck and only then dampened the sponge, pressing it against your nape. You smiled softly when the pleasant warmth spread down your skin.

He began to slowly wash away the dirt and weariness from your back – starting at your nape and working his way down, between your shoulder blades, then along your spine. The very same hands that were capable of dissecting life into its constituent parts with clinical detachment, were now gently rubbing your body. His fingernails tried to scrape away the specks of filth stubbornly clinging to your skin.

The soap made everything slippery, yet his touch wasn’t risky. There was softness in it, yes, but the gesture wasn’t meant to arouse. It was grounding, comforting. With a quiet sigh, you relaxed in his care.

Zandik spoke up, breaking the silence that had settled over the damp bathroom.

„I’m heading to Inazuma in three days. Jester assigned me a task to carry out on one of the islands.”

„Ah. What happened to ‘we don’t talk about work while in the bath’, Doc?” you smiled playfully.

In response, Dottore pinched your side. At your squeal, he couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

“You broke the rule first with your nonsense. Now sit still.”

Zandik went back to scrubbing your back. You turned your head to look at him over your shoulder.

„Can I come with you this time?”

„No. Pierro demands absolute discretion and success from me. And you… You have an irritating tendency of getting yourself into trouble. And that, in turn, increases the risk of the whole infiltration failing.”

He smiled, although there wasn’t a shred of humor in his tone. But then, more quietly and with a trace of pride:

„I prefer it when you stay here. You are the only person competent enough to keep the laboratory under your heel. This way I know that the work is proceeding at the established pace, even when I’m across the ocean myself.”

Your heart fluttered happily.

„Hmm… All right then. Let’s say a compliment like that satisfied me enough to keep this place in one piece”, you joked, sweeping your wet locks behind your ear.

„But?”, Zandik pressed on.

„But I demand some kind of compensation in exchange for another few weeks of keeping an eye on your paperwork and test tubes. I want a souvenir.”

Zandik smiled, clearly amused. He wrapped his arms round your waist, drawing you closer to him. Your bare back met his chest. Dottore rested his chin in the hollow of your neck.

„Oh? My assistant thinks I’m going there for vacation rather than by order from the Director. I won’t have time to run around the marketplace, you silly girl.”

Yet, despite those words, his mind was already thinking. Photographs of the Inazumian night sky, engraved constellations, books that might interest you, little sweets that would survive the journey back… And your bright, grateful smile when he presented them to you in the safety of your bed chamber.

Zandik closed his eyes, gently kissing your skin. It tasted of soap and rose oil, but he could sense your natural sweetness underneath.

„I will see what I can find”, he murmured, sinking you both further into the warm water. „But whether you get them depends on the state of my laboratory when I return.”

However, the longer you watched the curry bubbling inside the pot, the prouder you felt of yourself. To be honest, you expected far worse results for a first attempt. The sauce remained creamy, the shrimp didn't look like a gooey mess, and the aroma coming from the dish made your mouth water.

Leaning against the counter, you could only hope that Zandik would like it. But let's start from the beginning, shall we? ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Snezhnaya was completely different from anything you and Zandik had ever known. The cold was piercing, reaching through your bones to the very core of your souls. The people were polite - or at least that was the impression you had. Their smiles never quite reached their eyes. You had a feeling it had something to do with the Fatui insignia pinned to your coat.

And the food. Well, that too was a completely new experience for you. You were used to hot, aromatic spices. To vegetables served with fresh rice. To lentils swimming in a rich sauce, which you could then enjoy with a piece of naan. And coffee - by the Archons, how you missed Sumerian coffee. Zandik had surely had enough of your morning complaining every time you took a sip of… whatever it was they served you alongside the tea.

Still, you didn’t want to be ungrateful. Pierro had taken the two of you in, provided you with funds and given you free rein to conduct your research. Not to mention the lavish rooms you’d been given. So you tried to remain open to new experiences.

The soups were hearty and warming, perfect for the ever-present cold. You particularly liked the red borscht with pieces of potato and a dollop of sour cream, sprinkled with dill. You also took a liking to sturgeon – the delicate, buttery flesh melted in your mouth, leaving a light nutty aftertaste.

Pierogi reminded you of samosas, something you and Zandik both noticed. Especially when they were served fried.

„And they are just as controversial”, he said one day over dinner. „What kind of filling they have. A ridiculous topic for an argument.”

„Which one do you like?”, you asked him then, sipping your apple kompot.

„It doesn’t matter. Their sole purpose is to give us the strength to make it through the day.”

But oh, you both had your preferences. You liked the ones with potato filling, drizzled with melted butter and topped with pieces of onion and crackling. Zandik had a sweet tooth, even if he tried to hide it at first. He preferred dumplings filled with berries and covered with sweet cream. The way he licked his lips always made you smile.

You also took a liking to szarlotka. The sweet pastry combined with tart apples, cinnamon and cloves made up for the coffee you couldn't stand. They even served you a scoop of vanilla ice cream with it. Zandik refused to try it. Whenever you tried to offer him a piece, he’d start muttering something about his aversion to apples. He preferred his chocolate cake, dusted with powdered sugar.

Yes, good food certainly helped you both endure the worst of the snow and the work pressure. Still, it could only do so much. ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

It hit you both after a month. During breakfast, to be precise.

By that point, you’d switched entirely to drinking tea. You sipped it slowly, watching the snowflakes dancing behind the window. Zandik sat across from you, reading the report from the latest examination, a spoon in his other hand. Without taking his eyes off the page, he reached for the bowl of porridge, scooped up a bit and put it into his mouth. He chewed for a moment and then sighed. A quiet sound that immediately caught your attention. When you looked at your companion, Zandik was staring into the bowl, his gaze sad and wistful. It made your heart flutter uneasily.

„Are you all right?”, you asked hesitantly, and when he didn’t reply, you softly said his name.

Zandik snapped out of his thoughts, turning his red gaze towards you.

„Yes. I'm just sick of this”, he said gloomily, pointing his spoon at the porridge.

It didn’t look bad, with fresh blueberries and nuts on top.

„You don’t like it?”

„The flavour is fine. It’s the frequency that bothers me. We get porridge ever third day. The repetition is getting tedious.”

„So what would you prefer? It’s no problem to ask the chefs. You’re a Harbinger now. They can’t refuse.”

At these words, Zandik hesitated a little.

„I… I would like some fatteh. With fresh zaytun peaches. Or shrimp curry.”

„Curry?”

„Yes, but… never mind”, Zandik collected himself, the longing in his voice quickly giving way to annoyance. He focused back on the report, ignoring the way you were looking at him. „The people here have no idea how to properly season food. Give them local Sumerian herbs and spices and they will surely ruin it. And I don't have time for such nonsense.”

He said this in a tone that didn't tolerate any further discussion. Not that you were planning to continue it anyway. You were now staring at your own porridge, picturing aromatic, spicy curry instead. Just like your mother used to make. Your heart ached at the thought of home. Oh, what you’d give to eat it again, with some buttered bread on the side.

Then an idea popped into your head. It swirled around in your mind a few times before finally settling down, and you smiled into your mug. Zandik was too absorbed in his reading to notice the mysterious sparkle in your eyes or your overly cheerful smirk.

And you, well. You might not have been given a fancy title but Zandik himself had declared you his assistant. The Doctor’s Chief Assistant. The chefs surely wouldn’t say no if you borrowed a corner of their kitchen for a while, now would they? ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The next morning, wrapped in a coat and wearing a ushanka, you set off to the market. You were determined to find at least a few spices. And you succeeded! Sure, it took two hours of wandering from stall to stall, but you managed to buy the most important ingredients.

The local shrimps were smaller than those found in the waters of Sumeru, but you weren’t going to be picky. You also found coriander and some ground ginger. You even managed to buy some harra powder. Yes, arguing with the merchant took another few minutes („Ma'am, I'm telling you, harra fruits are guarded by flying snakes. Such a precious thing has to cost more”. „That’s not true, and I should know. I will give you five hundred and not a coin more”), but you walked away from that exchange with a sachet of powder and a saved mora.

So here you were now, pouring the finished curry into a bowl. It still wasn’t quite right, but you were pleased with the results. You also cooked the rice you’d found in the kitchen pantry. If the Fatui chefs were surprised to see the Chief Assistant with her sleeves rolled up, peeling shrimp, they didn’t say anything.

Doubts only crept in as you hurried towards Zandik’s room, bowls of steaming rice and curry in your hands. Would he like it? It was the first time you’d made everything from scratch, including the marinade. It didn’t taste bad - you’d tried it - but it still lacked a bit of a kick. In the end, you blamed it on insufficient seasoning and put on a brave face.

Carefully maneuvering so that neither bowl would fall, you managed to open the door with your elbow. You stepped inside. Zandik was sitting hunched over his desk, writing something rapidly, his brow furrowed in concentration.

„Are you busy?”, you asked, a smile in your voice.

„Would it kill you to knock?”, he barked, without looking up from the paper. „I thought your manners would improve with time, but apparently that was too ambitious assumption.”

It was the smell that hit him first. Zandik raised his head, staring at the bowls you were holding. He put down his quill.

„What’s that?”, he asked, even though he already knew the answer. There was only one dish that could smell so delicious.

„Shrimp curry. For you. I also made some rice.”

You placed the bowls on the desk, taking care not to stain any of the paper. Zandik snapped out of his momentary surprise, quickly pushing the sheets aside.

„Why? I didn’t ask for this”, he said.

When you pushed the bowl closer to him, Zandik gave the food a critical look. Nothing looked suspicious, though. The sauce was a vivid yellow and the scent carried the sharpness of harra fruit. The shrimp glistened in the marinade, there was onion in there too. Coriander leaves garnished the dish nicely. Zandik felt his mouth water.

„Yes, I know”, you shifted from foot to foot. „You mentioned yesterday that you were craving some, so I thought I would give it a go. I know it’s not exactly like the one from our nation, I couldn’t find all the spices, but I think it should be edible.”

Zandik carefully picked up a spoon. Yet, despite his stomach rumbling with hunger, he hadn’t taken a bite yet. Instead, he turned his gaze towards you, his expression a mixture of suspicion and reserve. He watched you as if he still couldn’t figure out your intentions. He opened his mouth only to close it right away. The silence dragged on. You didn’t want to rush him, but you were worried the food would go cold. Finally, Zandik dipped his spoon into the sauce, scooping up a piece of shrimp as well, and put it into his mouth.

You straightened up, waiting for his verdict. Your heart was beating nervously. You couldn’t read his mind as he chewed slowly, poking at the dish. Eventually, you couldn’t hold back any longer:

„So, how is it?”

„Considering the use of substitutes and fewer spices, the flavour is… adequate. You did a good job.”

Despite the strange tension in his voice, you brightened up at his praise.

„In that case, I will leave you to it.”

„What about you? Have you eaten yet?”

„Ah, no, but that’s fine. I had a few bites while cooking. It’s all for you, Zandik.”

You fixed your coat as you took a step towards the door. He didn’t respond until you reached for the handle, his voice so quiet that for a second you thought you’d imagined it. You glanced back over your shoulder. Zandik was watching you closely, tracking yours lightest movement.

„What do you want in return?”, he asked again.

You must have spent some time and mora on this. Surely there had to be something more to it than that, right? On the other hand… you’ve been a bit odd in that way. You did things like this without expecting anything in return, no matter how much he pressed and probed. Zandik was sure that one day it would come back to you, that someone would eventually take advantage of your naive kindness. And he would be standing right there, eager to say, „I told you so”. But at that moment, you just shrugged your arms.

„Nothing. Like I said, it’s for you, Zandik… I miss home too, you know? There’s nothing wrong with treating ourselves to something familiar every now and then. If you really want to repay me, think about what I can make for us next time.”

„Next time? So you’re planning to cook again?”

„Yes. If you don’t mind me taking the day off for it. Alright, I got to run now. I won’t bother you any longer. See you later in the lab, yes?"

Before he could reply, you’d already slipped out the door, the sound of your footsteps echoing down the corridor. Zandik stared at the spot where you’d been standing just a second ago, until his stomach rumbled again. Only then did his restraint snap like a thread. He went back to eating, practically wolfing down the rice and curry.

Home. It tasted like home. Like the wind rustling the leaves of tall trees, like the murmur of a river flowing through the forest. Like the ever-bustling Grand Bazaar, like laughter, like colourful shawls and sharp incense. Like sitting in a merchant’s caravan and licking the sauce off his fingers while his mother gently stroked his head. The ache in his heart temporarily eased.

He closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. The taste was close enough that, for a moment, he could pretend he was sitting in his dorm room, with a green jungle outside the window instead of an icy wasteland. These thoughts, however, were dangerous and kept under lock, so he pushed them away when the chance that his heart might start to tear open all over again presented itself. Instead, he focused on the food once more.

When he’d finished, he leaned back in his chair, sighing quietly with satisfaction, full and warm. You appeared in his mind once more. Zandik didn't want to admit it to you, but he hoped you were being sincere when you mentioned cooking again. Perhaps he could subtly steer you in that direction without making a fool of himself, just in case you did have second thoughts about your offer… He should do something too, no? It was only fair. The thought that he might somehow be in your debt made him feel uneasy. Or at least that was how he preferred to explain it to himself.

It was easier than admitting that something inside his chest clenched when he heard the melancholy in your voice as you mentioned missing Sumeru. Missing home. The very same longing that haunted him during sleepless nights when the cold prevented him from finding rest. So, after a few moments of thought, Zandik opened his eyes and picked up his quill. Yes, he should give you something of equal value. That way, you’d both be in the clear. And so, the order has been placed. ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

A week later, you woke up to the aromatic scent of flowers and fruit and oh, did you catch a whiff of nuts too? Your brain had only just wake up when your body leapt out from the bed, your bare feet running across the floor, leading you towards that delicious smell. 

There it was. On the table. A white mug placed on a tray, right next to a bowl of dates. You cupped it in your hands and, blowing on the steam a few times, took a sip. The hot drink burned your tongue, but that flavour, oh, that flavour. Slightly sweet, with a hint of bitterness and a caramel aftertaste. And was that cardamom you could detect too? 

Home. It tasted like home. Like scorching desert sand, like a quiet morning, just before lectures began. Like warm summer nights, like music drifting from the theatre, like colourful plates and shimmering stained-glass windows. Like that time when your father let you try his coffee, laughing as your childish face twisted into a grimace. 

Oh, how you’d missed this taste. You closed your eyes, sighing happily as something in your heart clicked into place. 

In your joy, you didn’t hear the faint sound by the door as it closed slowly. The Doctor’s footsteps echoed down the hallway as he hurried away, the scent of coffee beans clinging to his coat and his fingers slightly sticky from sweet dates.  ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

 You couldn't tell when it had become a tradition. You, taking a day off every now and then, spending time in the kitchen, and Zandik insisting on brewing your coffee all by himself.

The table shared between the two of you has also changed. After all, over time it had to accommodate more people. The teasing and bickering was still there – you weren’t sure if they could talk to each other without throwing in a snide remark – but the atmosphere in the dining room felt different now. More homely, more precious.  

They had their preferences too, despite being one and the same person. So you too have learned to keep them in mind, paying the same attention to each dish.

Alpha and Iota were arguing amongst themselves about whose project was more childish and unnecessary, while stuffing their faces with samosas. Poor Feofan, sitting between them, was picking at his selva salad with a fork, occasionally casting a longing glance at the juicy chicken on the plate next to him. Yet, whenever he tried to reach for it and cut himself a piece, the two youngest segments would immediately stop him, saying that after the operation he should focus on lighter food first.

Beta always moved straight on to the dessert. His sharp teeth sank into the baklava, honey dripping down his fingers. You made sure to make a little extra of it. You’d learnt that after the time when they all started arguing over who would get the last piece of pastry. Your attempts at mediation were to no avail, so in the end, Omega snatched a piece with his fork and took it for himself. Much to the outrage of the others.

Speaking of Omega, you noticed that he had a greater taste for edible flowers than anyone else. That’s why you always made sure to sprinkle them more generously over his biryani. The purple padisarah petals stood out against the meat and seasoned rice. During your shared dinners, Omega would usually chat quietly with Gamma – the two segments so similiar to each other that only the heavy winter coat helped set them apart. Gamma was now lazily stirring his rose custard with a teaspoon. He once told you that its taste brought back some fond memories.

Tau always praised your potato boat. His knife would sink into it smoothly, slicing through the vegetable with surgical precision. You couldn’t help but let out a quiet giggle at this sight. The segment might have left the operating room, but the operating room clearly hadn’t left him. At your laughter, Tau would give you a stern look, just for you to smile even wider. Telling him to be careful and not to burn his tongue.

And finally, Theta. The oldest segment preferred simple yet full of flavour soups. Perfect for an old man, as he used to joke with you. That’s why you’d make him a bowl of minty bean soup, even though you didn’t particularly like it yourself. Theta would hum contentedly as he took another spoonful. Despite your pleas for him to tie his hair back before eating, he still wouldn’t do it. Theta simply preferred when you reached out and tucked a longer strand behind his ear yourself. That sly crow.

A mug was pushed towards you. You tore your gaze away from the segments and looked at your beloved, sitting beside you. Over the years, his skin had lost its healthy color, with dark patches here and there, and his red eyes now surrounded by wrinkles. Yet, they still gazed at you with the same tenderness as they did when he was younger. Zandik’s body might have aged, his ideals and beliefs might have shifted, but this – this remained unchaged. He smiled at you. His monocle fogged up from the steam rising from the bowl of shrimp curry. 

You took a sip, closing your eyes and savouring the smooth, mild sensation dancing on your tounge. A happy, relaxed sigh escaped your mouth. Eight pairs of red eyes watched as their home licked her lips, filling their hearts with a different kind of warmth.

On the other hand, however, whenever there were any major problems, it was always your person who was desperately sought out. Mostly when Dottore was in a bad mood. Especially then. The researchers rather quickly put two and two together and realised that your presence was 90% effective in soothing the Doctor’s irritation.

(The remaining 10% were situations where you were the one receiving a scolding, though everyone agreed that these were solely your own battles to fight. Such was the unfair fate of the Chief Assistant.)

So when the sound of your heels echoed down the corridor, several heads turned in your direction. The scientists exchanged glances, whispering amongst themselves. You didn’t notice them at first, busy sorting through the shipping packing list. It consisted of nearly sixty documents containing detailed descriptions of mechanical parts specially delivered from Fontaine.

You still couldn’t find the order you had placed yourself, even though you had gone through the list three times already. At this point, you were flipping through the pages with a slowly growing annoyance. Just your luck. But surely the parcel had to be there somewhere. You’d even made a point of memorising its exact measurements so you could find it in the warehouse as quickly as possible. So where for heaven's sake was it—!

You stopped abruptly when one of the subordinates suddenly appeared in front of you. A man with greying hair and oversized glasses, holding a stack of papers in his hands. A nametag was pinned to his coat. “Nikodim”, it read.

“Chief Assistant! Oh, praise the Tsaritsa you’re here”, the researcher shifted uneasily from foot to foot, glancing at the list you were holding. “Please forgive me for interrupting your work, but we really do need your help. Of course, we wouldn’t bother you under any other circumstances, but the situation is rather, ah, dire.”

The people standing behind him nodded vigorously, also insisting that the last thing they wanted was to impose on you. You blinked. It was only when you quickly glanced around that you realised that, lost in your thoughts, your feet had carried you to the part of the laboratory occupied by Beta – the segment from your beloved’s younger years.

Well, now the staff’s behaviour made more sense. You sighed, rubbing your eyes with your fingers. Beta was known for his, to put it gently, eccentric behaviour. The researchers assigned to the segment could only rival Balladeer's underlings in terms of fear and anxiety levels. For them especially, you resembled a salvation sent from Celestia in human form.

“Right, let’s hear it then”, you said. “What happened this time, comrade?”

“Ah, Chief Assistant, yes. Lord Dottore is feeling particularly, uh, foul today, and we were wondering if-”

“How foul?”, you brushed past the man, heading down the corridor towards Beta’s personal study.

The researchers followed you, almost tripping over their own feet. They began talking all at once:

“Well, uh, he berated Tanya for breathing too loudly, getting upset again when she went into a panic attack.”

“He threatened the lab technicians that he would personally turn them into lab equipment if they didn’t speed up their work.”

“The messenger, late by merely a minute, nearly got hit on the head with a wrench, Chief Assistant.”

“And when our new juniors accidentally dropped some boxes when he was walking past them, Lord Dottore said-”

Okay, so worse than usual it seems. You waved your hand, silencing the group.

“Alright, I will see what I can do. Is it about those documents?”

Nikodim nodded, handing them to you.

“Yes, Chief Assistant. Our Lord personally ordered me this very morning to deliver them as soon as we finished conducting the trial. But just a moment ago he returned to his study, forbidding anyone from entering. These results, however, are extremely important and must reach him before the dinner break.”

You glanced briefly at the first document. Some words were underlined in red, references had been added to others. You sighed again.

“Wait here. No one follows me”, you ordered, continuing your journey without them, though you could still hear words of gratitude and thanks behind you.

When you finally reached the office door, you slowly pressed your ear against it. Nothing. No footsteps or sounds of work. You raised your hand and knocked cautiously. This was met with a response. You instinctively flinched as something inside the room crashed to the floor with a loud thud. Immediately, Beta’s venomous hiss rang out from behind the door.

“I said I didn’t want to be disturbed. If understanding these simple words is such a problem for idiot like you, perhaps I should crack open your skull myself and see what’s wrong with your brain. And then send it off as a model for anatomy studies.”

Despite his harsh words, you smiled gently.

“Dottore, it’s me. I brought you the results you requested… May I come in?”

Silence fell on the other side once more. You waited a few more seconds before finally grasping the handle and pushing the door open.

Beta was sitting at the table with his head resting on his hands, his coat and pink bow tie discarded on the floor. Right next to the remains of a smashed lamp (ah, so that was the noise you heard earlier). His eyes were closed, his jaw clenched. As you moved closer, you noticed how tightly he was gripping the blue strands of hair. Oh, so that was what it was all about.

A long time ago, you asked Zandik why he decided to retain potential biological system dysfunctions when creating his segments. “For purely scientific purposes”, he replied back then. “So, if necessary, they could diagnose the symptoms required for conducting their research.” You found that slightly cruel. Zandik just shrugged his arms. Now, as you looked at Beta, clearly tormented by a recurring migraine, you felt nothing but sympathy.

You set the paperwork down on the table and, stepping around it, stood beside Beta. You reached out, placing your hand on his clenched fist, your fingers gently stroking the skin of his knuckles until the segment slowly loosened grip on his hair.

When his hand fell back onto his knee, you slowly removed his mask, placing it next to the documents.

“That headache again, hmm?”

Your words came out quietly, as quietly as you could manage. Beta opened his eyes and looked at you. His red gaze was filled with irritation and weariness. Yet, they were directed more towards the situation he found himself in than at you. You couldn’t think of a single time when the segment had ever been angry with you. Truly angry. 

“I think you could use a break”, you said, gesturing towards the couch in the other part of the office. “Those test results aren’t going anywhere, you know.”

“It’s a waste of time”, he muttered. “It’s inefficient.”

“It’s a well-deserved rest. Especially when you’re working so hard… Come on, love. At least until dinner. I’m sure you will feel better by then. Take off that vest.”

You reached for the buttons of his clothing, but Beta quickly swatted your hands away. So instead, you walked over to the window and opened it a little bit. The fresh, cool air should help. You also drew the heavy velvet curtains to envelop the study in a pleasant shade.

When you turned back towards the segment, Beta had already settled down on the couch, with the top two buttons of his shirt undone. He threw an arm across his forehead when you approached him again.

“Want me to fetch you some painkillers?”, you asked.

“I doubt they will help in any way. So there’s no need.”

“It’s not a problem if that’s what you mean. Wait a moment, I will just head over to- ah.”

But before you even had a chance to turn on your heel, the young segment quickly reached out, grabbing you by the wrist. A gesture to keep you in place. 

“Stay.”

It came out sounding more desperate than he intended. You both heard it. To save his face even a little, Beta pulled you closer with a firmer tug of his arm. Not expecting the sudden jerk, you fell straight into his outstretched form. The segment didn’t give you even a second to compose yourself. Instead, he wrapped his arm around your waist and rolled you both onto the side. Perfectly for him, you now found yourself sandwiched between the back of the couch and his warm body, your cheek pressed against a patch of skin exposed by his shirt.

The message was so clear that you didn’t bother with any further words. Instead, you tried to get more comfortable – it was a bit cramped – intertwining your legs with his. If Beta was annoyed by your fidgeting, he didn’t say it out loud. It was only when you finally settled down that he sighed quietly. He closed his eyes again. 

Beta was pleased. Your sudden visit was like a ray of sunshine brightening up this frustrating, sluggish day. The damned pain was still splitting his skull in two, the nerves above his left eye throbbing unpleasantly, yet he could sense a slow improvement now that silence had finally settled around him. His fever should also slowly subside, thanks to the open window. 

On top of that, he could keep you there for longer, now that you lay trapped in his arms. Dottore would have smiled if it weren’t for the pounding in his head. Instead, he merely gritted his teeth, trying to control his breathing.

Which you must have noticed. At least as much as you could from the position you were in, that is. You managed to slip your hand out of segment’s embrace, slowly raising it up and pressing your fingers against his temple. After a few seconds of concentration, a cold sensation flowed from your fingertips. Pale blue delusion lit up slightly at your waist.

Unfortunately, the soothing chill didn’t manage to pierce through the wall of dull pain before Beta instantly grabbed your wrist, clenching his fingers. Only then did he open his eyes, shooting you a stern glance. This is where a certain irony began once more, you see. 

Although the Harbingers - and by extension their chosen subordinates - openly displaying their delusions was meant to encourage other Fatui to do the same (once they have proved their worth), the Doctor was reluctant to let you use yours. He was worried about the side effects, even if he didn’t say so outright.

But only when it came to you, though. Every other person was merely another opportunity to observe the changes taking place in the body and mind as the rot of the false gaze took its toll.

“Just for a moment”, you whispered softly. “I won’t overdo it. And you will feel better, Zandik.”

It worked like a charm. The grip on your wrist loosened. Beta didn’t pull his hand away, but now at least you could touch the burning skin above his eye again.

“A moment”, he mumbled.

The minutes dragged on as the cryo soothed his nerves. You could tell by the way the segment's jaw relaxed, his muscles becoming less tense. By the way his eyebrows stopped furrowing. Beta let out a sigh, the kind you take when a weight finally lifts from your body. When relief embraces you with its pleasant touch.

Your heart warmed. And you thought his heart did too. It flickered in his bright red eyes when the segment placed your palm against his chest, holding you close and not letting go.

In practice, however, some books could only be browsed on the spot instead of being borrowed for later, only during the day and with the Matra’s gaze piercing the back of your neck as well. Not every librarian was authorised to grant permission to browse them either. Only specific staff members were allowed to do so. All this to discourage less ambitious scholars. 

The book he was looking for was just like that. Old and thick, with a dark, worn cover, full of ancient sumerian scripts describing desert machinery. Zandik wouldn't be surprised if its age could be traced back to the time of King Deshret. Or at least shortly afterwards His reign.

He had to put in quite a bit of effort to get his professor's permission to browse it, but eventually his hard work paid off. The slip of paper bearing the researcher’s signature and the seal of his Darshan rested safely in the pocket of his tunic.

Zandik had deliberately chosen the early morning hours for this. Even the most persistent students returned to their dorms at sunrise, while the rest only began to flock into the library after breakfast. This gave him just under an hour to peruse the volume in peace and make it to his lectures.

Imagine his surprise when the librarian sitting at the desk gave him an apologetic smile, informing him that someone was currently looking through the book. Zandik glanced at the clock hanging above the woman’s head. Then at her. Then at the clock again. He felt irritation slowly building up inside him.

“May I ask when it was borrowed?”, he said at last, trying to keep his tone polite.

“Just a moment ago. I would say... less than fifteen minutes?”

His gaze wandered back to the clock. In his mind, he quickly calculated how many minutes it would take to read even a single chapter. He had the opportunity to browse through similar tomes before. He had a point of reference. Zandik clenched his fingers tighter around the permit.

“It’s nothing really”, he forced a smile. “I can wait until they’re done. I can still go in there with a valid permit, no?”

It was more of a statement than a question. Before the librarian could nod in agreement, Zandik had already turned on his heel towards the archway leading to a smaller room, where the bookshelf reached almost to the ceiling.

You were sitting at the table, near the lamp. From the entrance, he could see your hunched figure, frantically turning the pages. In the morning light streaming through the stained-glass windows, he could see specks of dust floating in the air. When he drew nearer, Matra standing nearby gave him an indifferent look.

Zandik stopped in front of the desk, watching you in silence. You didn’t seem to notice him. Or perhaps you were pretending not to see him. You merely brushed aside a strand of hair that had fallen over your eye. He ostentatiously folded his arms. Still nothing. Finally, he spoke.

“This book is older than you and me combined, multiplied by the number of students at Amurta. And yet, you’re flipping through it without the slightest concern.”

At those words, you lifted your head. That was when your eyes met. You seemed genuinely surprised by his presence, blinking several times as if you had seen a ghost. Eventually, you straightened up from the book. That stubborn lock of hair had fallen over your eye again.

“It has endured desert winds, the dampness of the rainforest and the determined students of Kshahrewar. I would say it will be just fine when the next scholar makes use of it.”

Your voice was pleasant, he noted. Soft, with a slight hint of amusement.

“Can I help you with anything?”, you asked.

“How long do you intend to keep using the book?”

“Until I find what I’m looking for.”

Zandik tsked. He leaned forward slightly, placing his hand on the page you had opened. You furrowed your brow. He narrowed his eyes.

Now, there was a certain unwritten rule amongst the students. When two individuals showed an interest in the same bibliographic material, the problem could be resolved in two ways.

The first one, more primitive in Zandik’s opinion, was to raise one’s voice until the other party gave in (unless the noise and swearing attracted the professor or Matra beforehand, in which case nobody wins).

The second was to use dialogue and reasoning to mutually agree who had a greater claim to the material in question.

If you were to ask the staff of the Akademiya, most of them would say that it resembled childish bickering rather than the eloquent discussions of Sumeru future great minds. Two kittens fighting over a ball of yarn.

“I need it for something important”, he began.

“Of course. So do I”, you said.

And that’s how it began. Ladies first.

“It’s obvious that we have both been granted permission to access it. How long is yours valid for?”, you asked.

“A month to make the necessary notes.”

“I can’t wait a month for you to finish hogging it. Since you have been given that much time, can’t you start later?”

“No. I need it for my degree thesis. I can’t delay it by even a single day.”

Zandik slowly pulled the book closer to him, testing the waters. You, however, immediately tightened your grip on the cover, pulling it back towards you.

“Well, neither can I. My deadline is in three days.”

“If you knew you had so little time, why did you only start now?”, annoyance finally crept into his voice.

“Because I only heard about this particular volume yesterday.”

Zandik blinked. How on earth did you get your permission slip so quickly? Even he needed a few days for that, almost driving the professor crazy with his constant nagging and pleas. Still, he wasn’t going to let it go. Zandik also had to admit that you were doing well at maintaining eye contact. Most students felt uncomfortable when he fixed his red gaze on them.

“That sounds more like a personal organisation problem”, he tried to stick a needle in. 

“Perhaps. But I have no trouble getting here early enough. I was here first.”

“That makes me wonder too. Did you wait like a dog in front of the librarian’s desk, hoping to meet the right person first thing in the morning?”

“Maybe”, your voice took on a more teasing tone. “And couldn’t you pull an all-nighter to do the same, pretty boy?”

Zandik grimaced slightly. Then he looked down at the blue badge pinned to your uniform.

“Why would an Rtawahist student need a book on machinery in the first place? It doesn’t sound like something that fits in with the subject of stars.”

“It’s for my personal project.”

You realised your mistake the moment those words left your mouth.

You straightened up a little more, suddenly less confident. The two of you kept looking into each other’s eyes. Zandik smiled coldly.

“A personal project can wait, can’t it?”

“I already told you it can’t. The full moon is in three days. I have to finish it before then.”

“Well, it looks like you’re in for two sleepless nights, then. But I suppose that Lady Stargazer will manage it, won’t she?”

He said this with a pinch of malice. In the end, he came out on top in this debate. When Zandik reached for the book again, you let it slip from your hands. At this point, you looked stressed.

“No, wait, please”, you raised your voice, but immediately corrected yourself when Matra turned his head towards you. “Please, this is very important to me. It’s something that I have been working on for quite some time, just for myself… Can’t we share it?”

“Share?”, Zandik repeated, glancing at the page you opened earlier.

Instead of text, the page contained a drawing of primal construct with certain parts highlighted and notes written in an archaic script.

“Yes. I could read it with you. I won’t get in the way, I promise. I will make it up to you later.”

“And what would I possibly want from anyone from Rtawahist? Our interests don’t overlap.”

Zandik walked around the table, sitting down next to you and opening the book to the first page.

“I can help you take notes. Or make you a coffee. Or, uh… Just let me know if you need any help with anything and I will-”

“Right now, I need some peace and quiet. You’re distracting.”

He shifted the volume slightly towards the centre, so that the letters were clear enough for you to see and so that you wouldn’t be leaning on his shoulder. He wasn’t a chair. Yet you were still sitting awkwardly in your seat, watching him carefully.

Zandik started losing patience. He shot you a sharp look as he pulled his notebook and pen out of his pocket.

“Well? Are you going to read or not? You were so eager just a minute ago.”

You flinched slightly at his words, moving closer in your chair at his suggestion.

“Ah, yes, thank you… Umm…”, you hesitated.

“Zandik”

“Thank you, Zandik. I’m y/n. As I said, if you ever need any help, then…”

“Yes, I heard you the first time. I don’t walk around with my head in the clouds like your breed. And since you insist oh-so-much, I will remind you of this favour of yours in the future. I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. Now be quiet and focus. I won’t be slowing down to match your reading speed.”

That effectively cut short any further words you might have had. You simply nodded, leaning your head over the table, careful not to brush his arm with your hair.