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she gone

Summary:

In my current state, being free means not being needed. Not being needed means I have nothing to offer to my people, to my friends and coworkers. They are not to blame. The only one to blame is me for being so simple, so useless, and insignificant. I don’t know what to do anymore. I used to wish I had nothing to do, but now I see how naive I was. Maybe death is the solution; maybe it’s the perfect happy ending for me.

Neuvillette dropped the paper and tried to sense Furina’s presence, using his senses to pick up any sign of life in the apartment. Nothing. He didn’t even hear the distant sound of a heartbeat.

Notes:

here i am and with angst again ^^

english is not my first language, so there may be mistakes.

Work Text:


The lights were off; the only light in her apartment came from the window. Furina, however, did not stop sketching a story that came to her mind. The story was simple: a young woman chosen for a great mission who, after much physical pain, completed it. Yet, she was left aside by those she considered friends. The young woman felt she had no purpose in life, so she decided to travel the world. Although she loved the city she protected and its people, the need for change was overwhelming.

Furina furrowed her brow. Where would she go? She had read somewhere that those who don’t know where to go can take any path, so Furina decided that the protagonist would follow the winds and deal with whatever came her way.

She didn’t plan to give the young woman a happy ending. Furina wanted to portray a reality where things didn’t go well, where even if you tried your best and gave everything to protect something, in the end, even if it was a happy ending, the heroine wouldn’t be part of it.

Death was the fate of the altruistic heroine.

Furina froze at this thought. She had been contemplating it since she left Palais Mermonia. The conflicting emotions that haunted her in the following days made her wish for an end to the constant pain she felt. The same applied to the protagonist she was writing.

She preferred that Neuvillette had sentenced her to spend the rest of her life in Meropide to pay for the crimes committed rather than living in freedom with no purpose at all.

A freedom that tasted bitter on the tongue, as cold as the winters of Snezhnaya she had experienced when traveling for business with Neuvillette.

On that trip, she remembered, they had to share a room because the receptionist thought they were a couple. She recalled how Neuvillette’s brow furrowed, as if the idea of being romantically linked to Furina was a bad joke.

That night, she made sure to keep a safe distance to avoid making him uncomfortable.

More of these memories came to Furina’s mind after she moved. They were vivid and detailed, causing her unease.

( Isn’t it enough to relive the trial in my dreams? Now I am haunted during the day? )

In her current situation, being free meant being unnecessary.

This statement lingered in her mind. She was unnecessary. Her coworkers had something to fight for, they had their positions and were needed by the people of Fontaine. Furina no longer knew what to fight for, didn’t know what she wanted to do or if she wanted to do anything, and the people of Fontaine no longer needed her.

Wouldn’t it be easier to be dead? Death had ceased to be such a frightening idea. There were nights when she wished Knave would come to her apartment and finish what was left unfinished that night.

What would it be like to finally feel her life draining away and be certain that she would have peace?

Yet, even though she longed for it intensely, Furina lacked the courage to carry out the act. So she decided it didn’t have to be immediate. After all, she deserved it to be slow.

It all started with a bite on her dry lips. Furina didn’t like the pain at first; it was irritating, but somehow relieving. It meant she was human, fragile, and any slip could take her life away.

Then she began digging her short nails, which had grown longer over time, into her skin whenever a distant memory popped into her mind. If Furina didn’t dig deep enough, she would get lost in her thoughts and spend hours lying in bed, brooding over her mistakes.

There were other forms of self-mutilation she had tried. When she cooked and intentionally burned herself by touching hot pots, or when she forced herself to eat food that was past its expiration date along with, the worst was cutting herself with a pair of scissors. The same scissors she had used to cut her hair in her bathroom.

The night she decided to cut her hair was cold. Rain fell outside, and it made her restless. Not for the reasons she was used to. The people of Fontaine were free from the prophecy, so there was no risk of the tide rising.

The rain reminded her of Neuvillette, and the mere thought of him made her anxious. Knowing that the rain might mean he was crying felt like a weight on her shoulders. The weight of guilt for having left so much for him to take care of.

Distressed, she got out of bed, stumbling over the heel that was in her way. Her toenail scraped against her heel, and Furina barely registered the pain or the cut the nail made on her skin. She opened the bathroom door, searching the drawers for the navy blue scissors, and when she looked up at the mirror, what she saw was: hollow eyes, devoid of any sparkle, messy hair falling over her shoulders. And it was long.

Too long to look like Furina.

The image in the mirror seemed like the mirror-me she had encountered five hundred years ago. The same one that had asked her to act for the good of Fontaine. Furina hadn’t been against it. Why hadn’t she been against it?

Maybe, just maybe, if she had said no, things wouldn’t be this way.

Why?

Furina remembered Neuvillette telling her all about Focalors’ plan — Yes, that was her name. Not mirror-me, she was Focalors. The true Archon of Fontaine. She remembered him saying that she, Furina, was the body of Focalors when she had become human. It didn’t make sense. She pressed the scissors against her palm. None of what he said made sense. If that were the case, shouldn’t she have died with her?

Maybe that’s why she didn’t refuse that request, why the prophecy seemed fresh in her mind when mirror— Focalors asked about it. And maybe that’s why the feeling of protecting her people was so ingrained in her bones that she couldn’t think of herself. Of the pain she would feel in doing so.

Was it worth it? She wanted to ask Focalors. Was it lonely for you as it was for me? Furina felt something sticky on her palm and looked down to see red. A fresh, vivid red. Did Neuvillette see that same red when Focalors was executed?

Her stomach churned at the thought.

Furina held a lock of hair, staining the white strands with red, but it didn’t bother her. She started cutting, her eyes fixed on her own reflection in the mirror, doing it without much attention. That’s why, when cutting another lock, the blade ended up cutting her palm. She flinched with the pain but refused to look at the cut and continued cutting. She only stopped when she felt satisfied. When the hair was so short that she barely recognized herself.

She looked at the reflection and felt a strange mix of relief and sadness. Furina didn’t recognize herself, and this disconnection from herself made her wonder who she was after all. Did she really like the things she said she liked?

Furina forced a smile, and the sight was painful even for her, her swollen eyes with no more tears to cry. “There’s no more place for me in this world,” she heard her own voice say. “Perhaps the only solution is...”

The heterochromatic eyes looked at the scissors, firmly held in her hands. “It’s time to end it all. At least, in this, I will have a choice…”

She slid the scissors across her wrists, one at a time, never deviating to avoid mistakes. The pain was sharp, but she didn't stop. Not now that she was close to finding the peace she had longed for during five centuries of suffering. 

The warm blood flowed, the feeling of relief filling her, and Furina smiled. Finally. She thought before her consciousness faded. Her body fell to the bathroom floor, the scissors slipping from her hand and the sound of the rain outside now seemed like a distant melody, almost comforting. Before Furina took her last breath, she remembered the first time she meet Neuvillette. 

 


 

Neuvillette walked through the streets of Fontaine with a bouquet of flowers. The weather was pleasant, and he finally found time to visit Furina after everything. Of course, this was after Clorinde and Wriothesley had scolded him for taking too long to see her. He hadn't meant to delay; he swears. Neuvillette just thought she deserved and needed some time alone, especially after what had happened.

He tightened his grip on the bouquet as he thought. Part of him was reluctant to visit out of shame for what he had done during the trial. Neuvillette had broken Furina's trust in a way that he knew would take a long time to rebuild. But he wasn’t in a hurry.

He would start by apologizing, and the rest they would work out later.

This thought eased some of the anxiety he was feeling. Since Furina had left, everything had been silent. He missed hearing her voice talking about anything, her presence, and the teasing she used to do to provoke a reaction from him. The thought made his lips curl into a slight smile.

After a few more steps, he was in front of Furina's apartment. He knocked on the door and waited for her to open, but there was no response. He knocked again, but still no answer. “Furina, it's me.” He knocked once more, but the response was the same as before: an overwhelming silence.

Was she not home?

“Monsieur Neuvillette? What are you doing here?”

Neuvillette turned to see a resident. He was at the door next to Furina's, so he must have been her neighbor. “Good morning. I’m here to visit Furina.”

The man’s expression shifted to one of understanding. “I haven’t seen her leave for a while. It almost seems like she doesn’t live here anymore.”

He found this odd but thanked the neighbor. If she hadn’t left the apartment, it meant she was inside. Either she didn’t want to see him, was sleeping, or—

His heart raced at the thought. His hand fumbled in his pockets for the spare key to Furina's apartment. He wasn’t proud of it, but it was for situations like this. Neuvillette entered and the first thing he saw was: papers scattered on the floor, furniture that looked unused, and an air of abandonment that made his heart race. "Furina?" he called out, receiving no reply.

The bouquet slipped from his hand with a dull thud as Neuvillette walked towards the bedroom, finding the door open. The scene inside was the same as the living room—a mess. He entered the room and saw the bed unmade; the room seemed too minimalistic to belong to Furina.

On the desk were papers with her handwriting, but unlike he remembered, they were scribbled in a disorganized manner.

 

I don’t know what to do anymore. There’s nothing I want to do... Am I really detestable?

His forehead creased upon reading that. What was she referring to? Below, there was a confusing drawing, overlapping lines with no clear shape, reflecting Furina’s internal confusion.

I wish I were strong like Clorinde or had Neuvillette’s power. That way, I’d be useful for something.

Reading this, Neuvillette felt a sharp pain in his chest, his finger brushing over her handwriting. He wanted to comfort her with sweet words, to tell her she didn’t need to be or have those things to be useful.

But what made his chest ache even more, and the air escape from his lungs, was what he read next.

 

In my current state, being free means not being needed. Not being needed means I have nothing to offer to my people, to my friends and coworkers. They are not to blame. The only one to blame is me for being so simple, so useless, and insignificant. I don’t know what to do anymore. I used to wish I had nothing to do, but now I see how naive I was. Maybe death is the solution; maybe it’s the perfect happy ending for me.

Neuvillette dropped the paper and tried to sense Furina’s presence, using his senses to pick up any sign of life in the apartment. Nothing. He didn’t even hear the distant sound of a heartbeat.

She’s human now; how could she go so long without eating?

His mind reminded him, somehow upset with how she had been treating herself. But who was he to criticize how Furina lived?

Not finding her there, Neuvillette went to the bathroom and pushed the door. It took some effort to open, as if something was blocking the way. He pushed harder, and finally, the door gave way, revealing what was inside.

His eyes widened.

Neuvillette’s knees felt weak at the sight of Furina lying on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood. His knees hit the ground with a loud thud, and his hand instinctively went to his mouth. The smell of iron filled his nostrils, provoking a rising nausea.

Again. It was happening again, and Neuvillette could do nothing, just like the last time. The helplessness was overwhelming.

He crawled to Furina, his hands searching futilely for signs of life in her pulse. He knew, yet continued to search, feeling a complete absence. There was no life in Furina. Her eyes were closed as if in a peaceful dream, if not for the blood staining her cheek. It was a horrifically wrong scene.

Neuvillette’s hands trembled as he tried to wipe the blood from her cheek, in a vain hope of maintaining some semblance of peace. A sob escaped his lips as he touched Furina’s cold body, a chilling sensation confirming that the life she had was gone for some time—time he had dedicated to work, away from her.

The salty taste on his lips indicated that he was crying, and he didn’t care to hide his vulnerability. He was losing her for the second time and felt powerless. What use was all his power if Neuvillette couldn’t protect those he loved most?

Holding her with the tenderness of someone holding something precious, Neuvillette wrapped her in his arms, crying against her while whispering apologies that seemed useless. “I’m sorry, Furina. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Outside, the rain fell heavily against the windows, and the wind howled, adding a ghostly sound to the atmosphere. Neuvillette wondered what he had done wrong to deserve this again. Oh, yes, he knew where he had failed.

He had left Furina alone once more. He had assumed she was strong enough to face everything on her own. He knew she was strong, but even the strongest have their moments of weakness, don’t they? Especially when they are human.

Neuvillette’s tears fell onto Furina’s cheeks, mixing with the still-fresh blood. He slowly pulled away, looking at her with sorrow. There was a look of sadness in his eyes as he contemplated the loss.

Furina had a life ahead of her, a life that should have been shaped by the choices she would make based on what she wanted. A life full of possibilities and personal decisions. It was a life that would never have the chance to be fully lived. The thought of all the things she would never experience again, all the decisions she would never make, was overwhelming.

He would never hear her voice in its varied tones, each bringing a new layer to her vibrant personality. He would never see her excited reaction to eating a piece of lemon cake, as if it were the greatest indulgence in the world. He would never experience the sensation of having her come into his office, interrupting hours of work to insist that he take a break, to understand humanity better. And he would never have her presence by his side in a play, discussing and commenting on their opinions about what they had seen.

Neuvillette would never have the chance to apologize for what he did to her, for breaking her trust and making her feel like she had failed everyone. He would never have the opportunity to show her how sincere his appreciation and love were throughout these five hundred years.

And that was what left a bitter taste in his mouth. Not being able to show Furina that she was not alone, that she could count on him in difficult times, that she didn’t have to keep everything to herself—that hurt more than anything else.

The pain of knowing he was not the support she needed, that he wasn’t there when she needed him most, was even more intense than the revelation of Focalors’ plan.

Furina was dead, and she died believing she wasn’t useful to her people, to her friends. She died believing she was unnecessary and that everything around her was just a lie, a theater.

Why? Why, Furina?

Why didn’t you tell me?

Why didn’t you reach out to me, didn’t you ask for help?

Are you seriously still asking this question?, his mind whispered with a cruel, accusatory tone. He tightened his embrace around her, as if somehow he could find answers through physical contact.

Neuvillette’s fingers touched the cold blood of Furina on the floor, and the scene around him changed suddenly. He was no longer sitting on the floor, holding Furina’s lifeless body. Instead, he was standing, watching Furina alive in front of him, standing before the mirror.

Her eyes were swollen, hollow, and lifeless. The sparkle Neuvillette had found beautiful had completely disappeared. In her hands, she held a pair of scissors, and it was at that moment he realized he was reliving Furina’s death. The terror he felt witnessing the scene was as intense as the fear he experienced waking from a nightmare where Focalors died before him.

Desperate, he pulled his hand away from the blood, as if trying to escape the horrific sight before him. The surroundings seemed to distort, and the weight of reality returned, crushing him with the pain of loss.

Red. Red again.

She didn’t deserve this.

What was he supposed to do now? How would he break the news to others? Neuvillette thought of Navia and Clorinde receiving the news, and the devastating impact it would have on them. He imagined Fontaine, the nation Furina had fought to protect, receiving word of her death. The people who loved her, who knew her for her generous gestures and dramatic presence, would be deeply shaken. The Melusines would also be devastated.

These questions lingered in Neuvillette’s mind as he held onto Furina’s body, refusing to let go and face the harsh reality unfolding before him. He was immersed in pain, unable to accept that his beloved was truly lost forever. Every thought, every doubt, intertwined with the overwhelming sense of loss that consumed him. The responsibility of announcing Furina's death loomed over him like an unbearable burden.

He knew the news would deeply shake Fontaine, plunging everyone into profound mourning over the loss of the nation's brightest star. The thought of confronting collective grief, of being the bearer of such devastating news, was almost too much to endure. Neuvillette felt torn apart, his own pain echoing the pain he would cause others.

He allowed himself one more moment with Furina as the rain outside continued to fall. Neuvillette had planned to spend the day with her, so there was no urgency to return to the Palais that day. Time seemed to stand still inside, with no sound but the rain.

It was a shame that, when he had finally found time to spend with Furina, she was not alive to share it.