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connan-l · 2 years

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Meandering Souls - Day 2: Door 2 - Gardening and Botany

Fandom: The House in Fata Morgana

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationship: Giselle & Yukimasa Aida, Yukimasa Aida/Pauline Asama, Yukimasa Aida & The White-Haired Girl

Summary: Until their souls cross path once more in the boundless sphere of fate.

The Maid teaches Bestia how to plant flowers; something he might've done before, a long time ago.

[A collection of unrelated one-shots for the @fata10thanni prompts:

Day 1: Door 1 - Mirror

Day 2: Door 2 - Gardening and Botany

Day 3: Door 3 - In the Shadows]

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Link on Archive of Our Own

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Notes: I’ve actually hesitated for a while to write something with Javi for this one. I went with Yukimasa in the end cause it’s still *his* door, you know? But I don’t really like it in the end so I wonder if I would’ve done better to go with Javi instead like I planned initially… Oh well. Sorry Javi, one day I’ll write something about you, I promise.

Also, just like in the first prompt with the Rhodes parents, Pauline’s mother’s name Filippa here is also her official name, in case you didn’t know.

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The manor’s garden didn’t look much like an actual garden and more like some untreated, wild forest.

Bestia didn’t know where he’d got this certitude, given he’d obviously never seen a normal human’s garden before, but somehow he was sure of this. A fact he was aware of innately.

Maybe he’d noticed without realizing it when he’d stopped at that village—

But no, he would not dwell on this.

Just thinking about the village was enough to make him nauseous.

Instead, he reported his gaze on the Maid, sat next to him, who was currently dirtying her hands in the ground .

“Do you understand now, Master?” She asked, after pulling out some more herbs and burying yet another seed. “Come on, give me a hand here. I might be a maid, but it is only the two of us here; and it is quite rude to watch someone work without helping, would you not say?”

Bestia did not understand. The Maid had solicited his help for gardening, but he couldn’t make sense of the reason why she bothered with this. She was weeding out , digging a small hole , then putting a handful of seeds into the ground. She did this almost every day. It seemed so useless to him.

“Why?” He managed to articulate, words still so foreign to him.

The woman stopped, then looked up at him. “Why am I doing this?” She inquired.

She was always surprisingly astute to understand him even when he barely managed to put together comprehensible sentences. Her hand, as white and ethereal as the moon, came resting on her cheek in a thoughtful gesture. Bestia thought about how strange it was that her skin was completely clean despite the fact she’d been twiddling dirt for over an hour now.

She truly didn’t feel human at all, even when she was doing the most basic of tasks.

“My, that’s a good question. Gardening can be useful to grow food, but what we are planting here is not food, so I can understand your bewilderment. Indeed, I suppose you could say there is not much purpose in planting flowers…”

A melancholic expression spread on her face, and Bestia felt more and more confused by the minutes. Why was she even spending time on this if she agreed it was useless ?

As if she’d just read his thoughts, she quickly continued: “There is no purpose… and this land has been cursed and dead for centuries. I doubt anything would be able to grow in it anymore, to be honest, but…”

Suddenly, she looked at him; jade eyes shimmering, enrapturing . “But I love roses. They are the flowers of love. And I know she loved them , too, so I am doing it for her.”

“For her.”

The Maid looked down at the ground, face perfectly blank, but an odd little smile stretch ed her red lips.

“For when she’ll come back.”

Bestia did not ask her who she meant by that.

Not because he was not curious, but because there was something, somewhere, in her voice, that told him it was a secret he had no right to be privy to.

So he simply helped her plant the seeds in silence.

______________________________________________________________

“Tsubaki?”

Yukimasa nodded at Pauline’s curious tone and eyes while she stared at his bag of seeds.

“This is what they’re called. That’s the name for Japanese camellias.”

“Ooh.” Pauline blinked at the seeds, looking at them fixedly as if she was trying to find something hidden in there. “But why does that has anything to do with me?”

He sighed. Sometimes, some part of his mind thought that if he was a normal man, he probably would feel embarrassed by this of interaction with Pauline.

“I… wanted to give you flowers,” he admitted. “And… because you always asks me so much about my home country, I thought… maybe you’d like some Japanese flowers…”

Not like Yukimasa knew much of anything about those , even less so about Japanese ones. Or about gardening, really. He'd always been a man of the sea; he'd never really had to deal with working the land before then.

“…But it’s not like you can just find those around here, so I asked your father, and he told me about how your mother has a garden and loved gardening, so…”

As the words finally started to get to Pauline’s head, a big smile spread on her face and her dark eyes shined with excitement.

“Yes, she has! Does that mean you’re asking for us to garden together?!”

“Well—”

“That sounds like fun! I’m not all that good at it, Mom always tells me I just make a mess of everything and so she generally want to keep me away from the garden— but if you’re here with me then she’ll probably agree! C’mon, let’s ask her!”

Before Yukimasa could reply , Pauline pulled on his hand and hurried him inside the family house. Her mother Filippa did seem quite reluctant at first to let Pauline anywhere near her garden, but with the condition Yukimasa had to keep an eye on her they finally got access to it.

Although Filippa had initially been a gainst her daughter having a foreigner for lover, she’d quickly warmed up to Yukimasa because of “how well-mannered and gentlemanly” he was, and she’d been very amiable towards him ever since. Sometimes, she even actively favored his opinions over Pauline’s and was also very enthusiastic at the prospect of them getting married.

Maybe he should feel a bit bad over deceiving Filippa so overtly when he was anything but an ideal future son-in-law, but it wasn’t like it was in his interest to try to disprove her.

He’d been deceiving Pauline for longer than that too, anyway.

“Okaayy, so they’re in! Do you think we need to do anything else now…?”

Pauline spoke cheerfully before patting the ground in a gentle way, as if she was afraid of disrupting the task she’d just accomplished.

They had finally put into the ground the seeds, and it had… certainly been interesting to watch Pauline make such a mess around her in so little time. Not only were her gloved hands completely covered in dirt, but so were her hair, face and clothes; and this despite her mother having insisted for her to take on an apron to protect herself. Yukimasa could now definitely understand Filippa’s initial reluctance about letting her daughter anywhere near the fresh ground .

But he supposed he shouldn’t be that surprised — Pauline was always like that, after all. So deeply e arnest and intense about everything she was doing that it ended up scattering this energy everywhere around her.

“Those are just normal seeds,” Yukimasa finally replied. “There’s no need for anything else. Just water them.”

“Hmm, I see…” Pauline patted the freshly-covered hole a little once again with the tip of her fingers. Yukimasa was the one who had no experience in gardening, and yet Pauline was always asking him for instructions. “Heheh, well, I can’t wait to see them finally bloom! I wonder what they’ll look like… and when they’ll bloom…”

As she seemed to get lost in thought, Yukimasa stared at her in silence. Her round, pale face was peppered with brown mud all over. It didn’t suit her, he thought, to be dirty like that.

Pauline had to always be clean and pamper, that’s just how it should be.

So before he could think about it, he reached out towards her and wiped out the mud off her face. Pauline, snapping out of her reverie , shrieked in surprise and blushed heavily, her cheeks feeling suddenly very hot under his fingers.

“Y-Yukimasa— What are you—”

“You were dirty.”

“O-Oh… Right…” After realizing what he meant, she giggled awkwardly. “I-It’s always like this with me, right? I just can’t seem to do anything right…”

“You planted the seeds right enough.”

“H-Huh? Oh…” For some reason, she appeared surprised at his comment; and then a gentle smile spread on her face. “Right, I guess so…”

She then looked around her, as if checking if there was not her mother or anyone else around, and then leaned in; briefly putting a small kiss on the corner of his mouth, as feeble as a butterfly.

Yukimasa could feel from here some dirt residual rest on his cheek as a result of this, but as Pauline pulled away and smiled shyly at him, he decided he didn’t mind it much.

“I don’t… know when they’re supposed to bloom,” he finally declared, then looked down at the seeds now deep in the ground.

Captain Asama had been the one to tell him those were red camellias, but he had not added anything else. A long time ago, Yukimasa had heard from his grandfather that red camellias in their culture symbolized a noble death for Japanese warriors, as well as love.

Romantic notions that didn’t fit him in the slightest.

But he had thought they fitted Pauline.

“Oh… well, that doesn’t really matter.”

He lifted his eyes towards the young woman in front of him, the lover he didn’t love , and she was smiling at him, like always.

“I’m sure they’ll be here when you come back either way.”

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“What are you doing in the garden?”

A soft, gentle voice shook him out of his thoughts, and when he raised his head a blur of green and white greeted him.

Michelle was looking down at him, curiosity printed all over her face; although he knew she technically wasn’t able to actually look at anything at all.

Bestia hesitated for a moment, not certain of what he should reply, because he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. The one who had dragged him out there in the first place to take care of the garden — the Maid, or the Witch, or whoever she was — had been nowhere to be seen; so to say the truth, he had no need to go there anymore.

But he’d noticed something unusual today, so he had to check it out.

“The flower,” he finally said.

He could see Michelle tilt her head in confusion.

“Flower?”

“Rose,” he clarified. “She… The rose planted there, it bloomed.”

The young woman’s red eyes widened in understanding, and they seemed to shine in excitement. Bestia wasn’t really sure why, as he should be the most surprised out of the two of them. The Witch had made sure to tell him this land was dead and cursed and that nothing could grow in there anymore. It was strange this single rose had managed to bloom, then, wasn’t it?

W ell, it wasn’t like he had any experience in gardening before anyway. He was just a beast.

“My, you planted roses? It sounds wonderful. I didn’t know you liked gardening.”

He didn’t. No more than anything else. It was the Witch that had planted them, but somehow he didn’t know how to properly explain it to Michelle.

(Or, at least, he didn’t think he liked gardening, but—)

The woman knelt down next to him, not caring about sullying her pretty green dress, and then with svelte fingers she patted around delicately, searching for the flower. At some point, Bestia decided to help her out, and with his much bigger hands he grabbed hers, pulling them towards the rose.

“Oh my,” she said, her small fingers gently caressing the petals. “It seems very pretty. What color is it?”

She raised her head, and for a minute, Bestia suddenly saw the figure of another person.

Another young woman, with black hair, earnest eyes, covered in mud from head to toes.

“I’m sure they’ll be here when you come back either way.”

“…White.”

“White roses, huh?” Michelle brought her fingers on her lips thoughtfully. “If I recall correctly, they symbolizes purity and loyalty. My mother told me so, once. Meanwhile red roses are for love and passion.”

Bestia wouldn’t know, but somehow, that seemed right.

“Do you… want it?”

“The rose? Oh no. I think flowers are prettier when they’re left alive and in the ground, don’t you think?”

“…Not particularly.”

Michelle chuckled, then looked down, as if trying to look at the flower despite her impaired vision.

“Why did you plant these?”

“Sorry?”

“I mean, there must’ve been a reason, no? Did you plant them for something?”

There was no reason, of course. Bestia hadn’t even really planted them, it had been the Witch. And even the Witch hadn’t seemed to expect for those to really bloom.

He wondered if she was satisfied even just a single one did bloom , wherever she was now. Maybe she hadn’t even noticed it.

But even so, the words left his mouth before he could think over them.

“It was for someone. When she’ll come back.”

Michelle stayed silent at that.

When Bestia came back to the garden the next morning, however…

The white rose the White-Haired Girl had touched had turned red.

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connan-l · 2 years

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Meandering Souls - Day 3: Door 3 - In the Shadows

Fandom: The House in Fata Morgana

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationship: Giselle & The White-Haired Girl, Giselle/The White-Haired Girl

Summary: Until their souls cross path once more in the boundless sphere of fate.

Michelle tries to know more about the mysterious head maid of the manor.

[A collection of unrelated one-shots for the @fata10thanni prompts:

Day 1: Door 1 - Mirror

Day 2: Door 2 - Gardening and Botany

Day 3: Door 3 - In the Shadows]

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Link on Archive of Our Own

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Notes: So fun fact, I’ve actually been wanting to write a one-shot similar to this one focused on Door 3!Michelle and the Maid, so I actually struggled writing this one because I didn’t want to use much of my initials ideas I had for the OS lol.

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The first time she’d met her, her face had been one of utter despair.

It had been very brief, but Michelle had distinctly seen it and couldn’t manage to forget it; it was welded into her mind, carved into her eyes. Even Jacopo, not the most astute when it came to the feelings of others, had clearly noticed her stricken expression with the way she felt him tense to her side.

Michelle couldn’t wrap her mind around why. She’d never met the woman before, she was sure of it, and all she had done was smile at her and greet her in the most polite way she could.

Her shaken expression had quickly disappeared before her face went back to a neutral one, buried under a facade of placidity, but Michelle could still plainly see the shine of pain glinting in her beautiful jade eyes.

She kept replaying the scene in her mind — trying to find the slightest details that could explain such a reaction; what Michelle could have possibly done to wrong her this much, but nothing came.

The oddity about this woman didn’t stop there, though.

When she decided to ask more about her, Jacopo simply gave her a bewildered look, as if that was a ridiculous thing to want to know.

“She’s just a maid,” he said. “All I know is that she was here at the manor before I even came.”

He didn’t know where she came from, didn’t know who she’d worked for before — he didn’t even know her name, in fact. Michelle felt completely flabbergasted at this, and asked him how he could not even want to know such basic things about his own employees. He just shrugged.

“She is just a maid.”

Apparently, to Jacopo, as long as she was doing her job nothing else mattered — and doing her job, she was particularly good at it.

Not a single servant worked as efficiently and meticulously as her, and half the time, Michelle thought she almost looked like a marionette who was being manipulated by a puppeteer from the shadows.

Maria also shared Jacopo’s thoughts. When Michelle asked her about the head maid, she had just laughed and waved her hand in a dismissive way; “She’s just some creepy lady, leave her be.”

She probably should have headed their advices. The servants of the house were only employees, and there was no need for the masters to take an interest in their personal lives. Surely, if the woman had never said a word to anyone about herself, not even her name, then it was because she didn’t want to — and getting intrusive about it against her wish would be quite rude.

But somehow, Michelle couldn’t just leave her be.

She found herself oddly captivated by her.

Her eyes followed the Maid around whenever she caught sight of her in a corridor, or when she would come to serves tea. Whenever their gazes crossed, the woman would smile at her, but her face was blank, her eyes empty. It made Michelle’s heart aches.

This woman made her uncomfortable, but more than anything she made her sad.

She could tell, behind the walls of placidity she hid behind, that she was in a lot of pain — and, for a reason Michelle couldn’t explain, she felt that somehow this was her fault.

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She woke up in the middle of the night when a thunderous noise broke into her room.

Cold and water violently spread throughout the bedchambers, and Michelle looked around with surprise. She realized all of this was coming from the window, which had brutally opened upon the strength of the storm raging outside; the wind and rain were so powerful it had forcibly unlocked it and made the curtains wildly flapping around.

Michelle instantly stood up and ran to the window; her long white hair flying all around her, getting wet and sticking to her skin because of the rain. She tried to get it closed as quickly as she could, but the wind was so violent that her frail arms could barely manages to grasp each sides.

Suddenly, a firmer, stronger hand seized the window from behind her.

“Let it go, Madam. You are going to hurt yourself.”

Michelle jumped in surprised, inadvertently doing as she was told, and realizing the person who’d just spoken to her was the black-haired maid. She hadn’t even heard her enter her room, though she supposed it wasn’t that surprising given how noisy the tempest was.

Despite her surprise, she actually listened to her and stepped aside, while the Maid cleared off the curtains and bravely faced the animated window with unyielding hands. It took her only a couple of seconds before being able to close it tightly and put a bar to keep it that way, under Michelle’s impressed eyes.

“Wow, you’re a lot stronger than you look!” She couldn’t help but exclaim in awe, and then felt herself blushing a little because of how childish she sounded.

The Maid didn’t seem to mind as she put the curtains back in place, and then turned towards her. She silently scrutinized her in a way that made Michelle blush even more, so she looked away.

“U-Um…”

“At the risk of sounding rude, Madam… you are all wet and disheveled. I believe it would be preferable for you to change clothes and dry your hair before going back to bed.”

“H-Huh? Oh, right…!”

Michelle was, indeed, quite ‘wet and disheveled’ — and it was putting it mildly. Her nightgown was not exactly drenched but pretty humid, and her long hair was all soaked and messy around her face and shoulders, sticking to her frame. She must have looked quite awful. Thank goodness her husband wasn’t around to behold such a sight.

Before she could say any more, the other woman turned around, headed towards her wardrobe, and in a handful of seconds she was already handing her a new gown. She asked her if she needed any help putting the dress on, but Michelle quickly refused; even though she was used to servants helping her out since she was a child, she’d never liked letting others doing simple tasks for her like that. So the Maid let her do as she pleased, but stayed in the room while she undressed, only turning her back to her to give her some intimacy — which, for some reason, made Michelle’s stomach tie into knots. She didn’t know why, but the other woman’s presence somehow rendered her very anxious.

Once she was done, she smiled at her, almost about to say that everything was fine now and she could go, but then she noticed a comb in the woman’s hand.

“You might not let me help dress you, but please at least allow me to rearrange your hair a little.”

Michelle’s first instinct was to tell her it wasn’t necessary. She was going back to bed, after all — so her hair was going to end up a mess either way. But somehow she felt unable to open her mouth once her eyes crossed the Maid’s.

There was something odd, in her gaze. Something almost begging.Yearning.

Michelle’s lip trembled; she looked away, then nodded, unable to sustain the other’s eyes.

Soon she found herself sitting in front of her mirror as the Maid was slowly, gently combing her humid white hair. Michelle couldn’t help but vaguely ponder how strange of a situation this was; here she was, in the middle of the night, getting pampered by the unsettling nameless head maid of the mansion while a tempest was hollering outside.

A part of her almost felt like she was doing something taboo or forbidden, like cheating on her husband.

The Maid delicately threaded her fingers into the strands, as if making sure she wouldn’t forget a single knot, and the gesture was so tender that something in Michelle’s chest broke like glass.

She was handling her like something terribly precious; a treasured doll, a cherished daughter. A lover.

Somehow, somewhere, the whole thing felt upsettingly familiar. As she looked up into the mirror, she had a strange feeling of déjà vu; and in the light of a thunder, she thought she almost saw the silhouette of a younger version of herself, all dressed up in a beautiful, old-fashioned golden and white dress.

She blinked, and the vision was gone, but the hundreds contradictory feelings filling her chest and clogging up her throat stayed.

“You, um,” she tried — she needed to speak, to break the silence, otherwise she felt like she was going to suffocate. “—Uh, what, what are you doing here at this time? I mean, it’s so late… were you not sleeping?”

For a long time, the Maid stayed quiet, and Michelle almost thought she was not going to answer her.

“I never sleep,” she finally said. “So usually, I am doing rounds in the manor. But then I heard noises in your room, and I got worried.”

“O-Oh… Is that so?”

Admittedly, she did often look tired, with her skin almost as pale as Michelle’s and her big black circles under her eyes. Still, hearing her say she had been worried about her sounded… nice.

“I apologize if I worried you…”

“Don’t. I am only doing my duty.”

“I know… But still, thank you. Not a lot of people… have been very kind to me before.”

For a brief moment, Michelle felt the comb still in her hair; but by the time she got to lift her head and look at the other woman in the mirror, any trace of surprise or shock had disappeared and she was back to doing her task.

“I-I mean, my parents were very nice to me. And now, well… I have Maria. She told me we were friends.” She laughed a little. “I’ve never had any friends before, you know? I might have been… quite lonely in my previous home. And then, of course, there’s my husband—”

She was pretty sure she felt the comb stop yet again, but she was so caught up in her own feelings that she couldn’t bring herself to get distracted by it.

She wasn’t sure why she felt so talkative all of a sudden, opening up to this strange woman she knew nothing about.

But for as unsettling as she could — there was something about her… that felt weirdly comfortable, too.

“Well… he has been… acting a little strangely towards me lately. Like he’s… avoiding me…”

Her hands tightened on her on thighs, and she barely noticed the deep breath the Maid took from behind her.

“Would you… Would you have some advice to spare? I… I’m afraid of losing him, and… I mean, I’m sorry if that is rude of me, but I heard some of the servants gossip about you… maybe being married—”

Her question was brusquely cut by a vivid pain that made her shriek. Something — someone — had abruptly pulled on her hair, in such a brutal way that had unmistakably meant to hurt, and Michelle jumped from her chair and turned around.

The black-haired, green-eyed woman stood there, in front of her, but in the darkness she was unable to gauge her expression. Only her jade eyes were shining under the candle and the moonlight; something so deeply intense and full of resentment that Michelle’s throat and heart dried up instantly.

In the Maid’s right hand was dandling a few of her white strands that she had clearly torn up from her head.

They stared at each other in silence, and then Michelle felt something she’d never felt for this woman until now: fear. In this instant, for a brief, terrifying second, she was certain she was about to kill her; in some strange hallucination, she could almost feel her cold hands around her throat, pressing and pressing her trachea until nothing of her was left.

But the Maid did nothing of the sort. Instead, she lowered her hands, and the intensity of her eyes diminished until it was back to her normal, perfectly neutral stance.

“If you want advice,” she said, voice eerily cold. “Then I can give one. Do not trust in love too much, Madam.”

With some strength she didn’t know she possessed, Michelle was able to open up her mouth, even though the entirety of her body was trembling. Because she felt that the Maid was telling her what Maria had recently started rambling about; you’re too good for that guy. Leave him! With your looks, you’ll have no trouble finding a new one who’ll treat you like a princess!

“But I love him.”

She said it out loud, a little desperately, a little like a prayer.

The maid didn’t budge. Her expression was of stone.

“Sometimes, love is not worth it.”

And then she simply turned around, with the comb and the hair and the candle, closing the door behind her.

Michelle stood there, all alone, in the dark — and for some reason she couldn’t fathom, tears rolled down her face.

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