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Truth be told, Shorekeeper hardly admires the sun. It’s a very trivial thing, and she hardly has any time for trivial things. There are much more important things to do–like reorganizing everything for the millionth time–and honestly, she can’t quite see the beauty and meaning in it.
Apparently, Rover had found this fact entirely unacceptable, and had dragged Shorekeeper out of the Eidoscope, passionately stating that she “absolutely had to see the sunrise”. Of course, Shorekeeper had relented eventually, putting her endless work on hold for the bright-eyed woman.
But she also didn’t expect there to be another person waiting for the two on the cliffside. None other than the charismatic woman herself, Lady Flora. The woman turns her head, catching sight of Rover first, which brings a gentle smile to her face. Then, seemingly, her eyes travel towards Shorekeeper, and they dampen a little, a small, awkward smile on Lady Flora's face at the sight of her.
"Hello Rover. I see you've brought… a friend." Lady Flora says, almost stiffly. "I thought I made it very clear that this was a spot for me and you only."
The authoritative tone she takes sends a shiver down Shorekeeper's spine, and she decides that she doesn't like it one bit. She prefers Lady Flora when she's forgetting her work and slacking off, thank you very much.
"Ah. Yes I know. I figured the rules could bend for…" Rover gestures behind her, and it takes Shorekeeper a brief moment to realize that Rover is talking about her. She waves, delayed and slight, and it seems to upset Lady Flora further.
"Fine. Whatever." The woman huffs, annoyed, but allows Rover to sit in the middle, between her and Shorekeeper. Shorekeeper, for one, is grateful at the gesture. Lady Flora can be quite ruthless when angry, and she wouldn't doubt that a couple ‘accidental’ elbows or jabs might have made their way to her.
However, the woman has always been fond of Rover, so she doesn't seem to mind.
"Apologies, Lady Flora. I did not intend to-"
"Camellya. Please." Camellya interrupts with a sigh. "I've told you before, Lady Flora feels too professional."
"Sorry. Camellya. I didn't mean to encroach." Shorekeeper says, and she feels the familiar twisting in her stomach. The one that is coiled tight around what she thinks might be a heart, or something like it.
"We should do this more, don't you think?" Rover asks, seeking to diffuse the sudden tension. Camellya nods stiffly, and The Lady Arbiter then looks to Shorekeeper. There’s an expectancy in her eyes, one that lets Shorekeeper know her answer.
"Yes." Shorekeeper says, finally sure of something in this moment. Her memory flashes through pictures, until she finds the three of them, sitting. "Yes we should."
There’s a somber pause, and Shorekeeper fights to keep her expression neutral, as Camellya studies it probingly. It's not that the notion doesn't excite her, she just would prefer not to let either woman know. Her wistful longing for a future is something no one should see, after all.
Even them.
The sunrise catches Shorekeeper’s eye, and she trains her eyes on the horizon, hoping it'll starve away Camellya's searching stare. After almost a minute, it does, and the woman turns away to look at the sun as well.
"The sunrise is beautiful, right?" Rover prompts, to both Camellya and Shorekeeper. Shorekeeper turns her eyes to Camellya, watching the flower obsessed woman.
Camellya's always been an odd woman. Some days, Shorekeeper can understand it. Other times, she'd try to avoid the woman at all costs. Camellya looks at Rover, with a calm expression, but there’s something underneath it that Shorekeeper can't place. A sort of nervousness.
"Yeah. I guess it is." Camellya says nonchalantly, but Shorekeeper watches as she turns back to the sunrise, watches the small smile creep across her face. Camellya is very odd. It wasn’t exactly like Shorekeeper could talk though, she often misconstrued her own emotions as well.
Rover turns to Shorekeeper expectantly. Ah, she had forgotten her response was expected as well. Something like nervousness twists in Shorekeeper's stomach as well. Maybe she could understand Camellya's worry. What if she didn't express the correct thing?
Shorekeeper glances at the sunrise. Yes, the hues of yellow, orange and pink could be classified as beautiful. She quickly sifts through her database, outweighing the opinions. The vast majority of her knowledge said yes, the sunrise was beautiful, but how could she be sure that's the answer that The Lady Arbiter expected?
Of course, she could always just take the majority and run with it, judge Rover's expression and switch or keep the answer from there.
"Shorekeeper," Rover calls softly, pulling both Shorekeeper's attention, and eyes towards her. The Lady Arbiter holds a gentle smile, a soft expression on her face. "What do you think?"
Oh.
Rover wants to know what she thinks. What Shorekeeper thinks.
The notion makes a coil in her heart snap into place, her chest aching. It surprises her, how one person caring about her opinion made it this hard to breathe, to speak. So Shorekeeper stares at The Lady Arbiter, saying, in a sort of breathless trance,
"Yes. Yes, it is beautiful."
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Shorekeeper stands stiffly on the cliff, her resolve steeled. It’s nerve wracking, and the action makes a shiver of something cold run through her. But she takes a couple steps forwards anyways, towards the woman sitting at its edge.
And as soon as Lady Flora hears the footsteps, her head turns sharply, her shoulders tensed up.
And Shorekeeper watches the relief drain from her face as she realizes, no, The Lady Arbiter is not back. It is only the remnants of her memory that stands behind her.
Camellya's face turns into a cold scowl.
"Lady Flora." Shorekeeper nods a greeting, aiming for something friendly but not familiar.
"What are you doing here?" Camellya's voice cracks, and she clears her throat. The action makes Shorekeeper's eyes widen. Not once has she heard Lady Flora on the edge of tears. This is new.
"I figured you might want some company." Shorekeeper says, and interrupts when Camellya opens her mouth to decline. "I also… would like some."
It's not a lie. Something within Shorekeeper had been pulled towards this cliff for weeks. Perhaps it was because it was one of the last tender memories she shared with Rover, perhaps it was something more vile, more pathetic. Like a yearning for companionship.
Shorekeeper watches as Camellya's mouth opens, and closes, a pensive expression on her face. Shorekeeper is ready to take it back, to walk back into the Eidoscope, to maybe perish on the spot, when Camellya speaks.
"Sit, then." She says softly, patting the ground beside her.
So Shorekeeper sits, gingerly lowering herself onto the grass beside Camellya. The silence that follows is tense and long, and Shorekeeper’s skin itches with something unnamable as they sit silently.
Goodness, How must Lady Flora miss the Lady Arbiter, how worried she must be, for her face to light up at footsteps? Of course, Shorekeeper didn’t expect her to have memorized Rover’s footsteps–Although some days, it would have been believable–but it was unlike Camellya to react that way. Ever.
So Shorekeeper stays silent, but wants to ask Lady Flora if she’s okay. Unfortunately, speaking is always a losing game for her, so she fidgets restlessly. The two women fall into an awkward silence, until Camellya sighs defeatedly.
“Are you alright?” It’s Camellya who asks the question, although stiffly. The woman conjures a red flower, passing it to Shorekeeper politely. It’s a kind gesture, not matching Camellya’s tone, but Shorekeeper dips her head in thanks.
“I… I am not sure.” Shorekeeper turns the flower over in her hands, noting the vibrant colour. It was an almost violent red, and Camellya watches Shorekeeper’s hands carefully, as she shifts it one way and another. It’s a ploy, in part, to avoid the gardener's eyes. It’s already awkward enough without Shorekeeper zoning out, and staring at Camellya.
A sharp inhale, as Camellya takes both of Shorekeeper’s hands quickly, prying the flower from her fingers. Shorekeeper looks up swiftly, but the gardener’s eyes are elsewhere, as she sucks her teeth, turning Shorekeeper’s hands over in hers. There’s a certain softness to her eyes that makes the analyst’s mouth go dry.
“Sorry. Are you okay?” Camellya looks up, her brows furrowed. The gardener looks down again. “I could’ve sworn that flower didn’t have any thorns.”
“I don’t-” Shorekeeper glances down at her hands, and sure enough, her skin has been broken, pulsing energy, shining blue from the cracks, where her blood should be. “I don’t exactly feel pain.”
“Really?” Camellya looks up, and then seems to startle, as she finds Shorekeeper already looking at her. Her eyes go wide. She drops Shorekeeper’s hands. “I- Stop.”
Camellya stands suddenly, and Shorekeeper looks up to find a fierce glare in her eyes, tampered with something almost mournful. The warmth of the moment leaves her cold and empty. “Stop. Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Making me care.” Camellya spits, gesturing wildly. “She’s going to be back. She’s going to come back, and then I’ll go back to hating you.”
Shorekeeper is confused. She wasn’t doing anything. The entire point of having this conversation was because Shorekeeper hated seeing the gardener, all alone, on the ledge. Sometimes, even, muffled sobs were all that the analyst would hear coming from Camellya. It hardly helped that Shorekeeper could at least partially relate to the feeling.
“Camellya, I don’t think-”
“Shut up!” Camellya says, like she's surprised Shorekeeper can even speak. “Leave me alone. You’re not Rover, and you never will be! So stop!”
And just like that, Camellya is gone. Gone, but Shorekeeper can still faintly feel the warmth on her palms, and she thinks she might be able to feel the prick of the thorn to her hand, but that’s not possible, because she can’t feel pain. She must be imagining it.
She must be.