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Dearest Knave,

Such a pleasant sight the moon summons on this frail night. You live in Snezhnaya too, do you not? Recently, this war has frightened me and my flowers alike; I fear greatly for your safety. So, take this as a reminder to take it easy on yourself, dear Knave.

From your Damselette.

Dear Damselette,

As always, it is great to hear from you once more. I, too fear for this nation's future, and selfishly, my own. But I suppose it is justifiable to care for one's life? No matter the answer, your care seems to quell that endless worry of loss. It is comforting to have a ray of sunlight in this darkness, so I appreciate your comments.

From your Knave.

The soft candle flame summoned a manageable light upon the woman's desk, scattered with other papers and letters alike. The woman leans back, examining her written work with a focussed expression, dark eagle eyes scanning for any mistakes or mishaps in its lightest and most innocent manner. Her white-grey hair hangs down her shoulders like a heavy rope, unkempt and messy yet organised and dignified all the same.

Taking a smooth and new envelope, she tucked her newly-written letter in, ensuring that no rip, tear or crease would be formed. To others, dear Arlecchino was seen as cold and unwelcoming, but the small acts of softness, like taking extra steps to secure the safety of her oh-so precious letters, would suggest otherwise.

The ticking of her office clock gave a stern reminder of the time - the candle flame seemed to have provided a suitable illusion of how late it truly was. She attempted to unscramble her desk, shifting her stacks of papers around, though it didn't seem plausible currently. Deciding it was pointless to continue, she leaned towards the flame and softly blew. Darkness settled.

Tomorrow is another day.

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Typically, Arlecchino would stop by the post office to drop-off her letters - her reply to her precious pen pal. Today was no different. The neat envelope shifted in her hands, to cope with the nerves she was unsure as to why she had. Though, her eyes ended up locking onto a familiar store almost by instinct, its comforting atmosphere even luring outside. A short visit wouldn't hurt, would it?

Shifting the door open, the wind chimes above played the rhythmical tune she so adored. She took a few cautious steps inside, eyes scanning the familiar worn-down room; cracks in the walls, a few flower bouquets scattered amongst the mostly barren shelves. The floral scent naturally began to settle. Truthfully, Arlecchino never could see herself visiting a place like this so often. If it wasn't for the florist that ran it, that is.

On cue, the smaller woman poked her head from the back door, alerted and surprised, then smiling once she realised who had entered - unexpected, but not unwelcomed. She takes a small skip forward as she pops out fully. In her hands sat a pot of blooming white lilies and her typical turquoise apron was wrapped securely around her.

"I didn't think you'd stop by today, but I'm glad to see you." She spoke softly as she placed the well-nurtured flowers onto the counter. Her kind gaze was still unmistakably visible and apparent despite being semi-concealed underneath that curtain of long, dark hair (though dotted with dark pink highlights). "What brings you here today? Would you like another assortment?"

A pleasant smile meets Arlecchino's lips. "It's nice to see you too." She redirects her attention to the other question with a firm nod. "I'd like another batch, if you may."

With a small nod, the other woman returned to the back room, muttering something indecipherable under her breath as she did. Alone again.

The quiet hum from the air conditioning and ticking of the clock seemed more apparent now, the sound gradually lulling her into the own noise of her thoughts.

It was evident that the florist had financial issues, and Arlecchino had no problem with assisting with that. It's not that she had a distaste for flowers, but she only really visited this often to support the florist. Out of pity? No. Out of genuine care for her, especially during these times with the raging war. It was the least she could do to help another out, but she wondered if it made her a bad person for doing it like she was - so indirectly. She just wanted to help. After all, how could she ignore someone else's obvious dilemma?

She also wondered, if the other was aware of this. Aware of how horrible Arlecchino was in reality. Her intention wasn't to mislead or pity, but she was afraid it would be assumed so. She did see the florist as more than just that, she viewed her as a close companion. Perhaps because she was her only companion?

"Apologies for the wait." Her eyes snapped back to reality, gradually adjusting themselves to the florist now behind the counter, a neat flower bouquet set on the surface. "I'll give you a discount."

"No need." She quickly replied, disliking the idea. It came off sterner than she intended. The other stared at her in a surprised motion, completely stopping what her hands were occupied with. A moment of regret strikes Arlecchino, all until a sweet smile meets the other's face.

"I do this because you are good to me, now take it, Arlecchino."

At the use of her first name, she found herself stuck to reply. There seemed to be no way out of her determined kindness. From behind the counter, she watched the other stroke the flower's petals with those familiar delicate hands. So fragile, she thought, that even a speck of dust would break them, a simple cut or bruise would taint its pale physique. How could someone as pure as her last in a world as cruel as this?

She realised that again, she was internally rambling. After blinking in a rapid sense (as if it would rid herself of those thoughts), she placed her cash on the counter without a word. A vaguely tense silence, which seemed to go unnoticed by the two, was summoned.

It was too uncomfortable for her, as she never intended to act as serious as she did, and she desired to leave as soon as possible in case the other felt the same.

"Have a nice day, Columbina." She picked up the flower bouquet with extra care, nodded towards the cashier, before turning away, the wind chimes signifying her sudden departure.

For the florist, dear Columbina, she was left rather puzzled, leading her to believe she had wronged Arlecchino. Perhaps she was too upfront? She was aware that Arlecchino viewed her as a lot more naïve than she appeared to be. It wasn't being viewed that way that hurt, but rather the perception that she may know less of reality. Columbina was more aware of the other's inner motives and insecurities than she thought.

Arlecchino, on the other hand, mentally face palmed and she left the store. While stepping down the path, she ridiculed herself for her sternness going unnoticed - or rather, noticed too late. It was small things like this that Arlecchino criticised herself for, mainly due to how they could be avoided, but never seemed to change. Moreover, to act this way towards the gentlest of people...

An inner realisation strikes the both of them, the other meant more to them than they ever could have imagined. Ever could have intended. Yet, these thoughts would continue to go unspoken; their connection powerful yet fragile. They will remain silent secrets.

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word count :: 1289

a/n :: first chapter im scared lol my english teacher proof-read this 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

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