Chapter Text
There’s a bug in Odile’s room. A strange bug. A bug that Odile swears has been following her. She glares at it through the corner of her eyes, watching it dip in and out of the clarity of her glasses, bobbing gently in the still air like a leaf in rippling water. As she watches, the bug stills, and drifts closer to the wall, clicking gently in place along the stone groove of a jutting brick. Odile feels her jaw clench, and her eyes narrow. Bugs don’t click gently in place. Bugs skitter and scrape, or zigzag and scurry. They creep and crawl and carry all manner of annoyances along with their buzzing presence. They rarely move so smoothly as to slide into an opening, as though they were made to be stowed away for watching. Because that bug is watching her, of that much she is certain.
Odile hums quietly to herself, thoughts blooming and withering away, as she tries to solve this problem. The problem of what this bug is, and why it is watching her. Absentmindedly, she pulls out her note taking journal, flipping casually through it’s pages, back and forth, back and forth, the soft crinkling hiss of pages ruffling in the still room. She does this as she thinks, trying to decide what observations to note down, and possible theories, when she notices something. Out of the corner of her eye, the bug stands to attention, for what else could that motion be? Then it glides closer. Sticking to the shadowed edges of the brick wall, it observes her, and looks down at her notes. She doesn’t know how she knows it’s looking at her book, but she does. Odile makes a mental note to jot that down as an assumed observation.
Carefully, she picks up her pen.
The insect watches with a single, beady, eye.
She lowers it to an open page.
The insect leans forward.
With the caution one reserves for trying to feign innocence, Odile shifts, allowing her cardigan to slide forward, blocking her notebook from the insects view.
The insect takes the bait.
Quick as a flash, Odile leaps into action, darting a hand out from cover to snatch the bug out of the air, as it had tried to get a closer view of her work. Distantly, she hears a rapid thumping sound, but she ignores it in favor of her newly caught prize. The insect struggles furiously, sharp edges and previously inaudible humming nearly startling her into releasing the creature, but she holds strong. That is, she held strong until her room’s door burst open, and in her surprise she held a little too strongly, gripping tightly enough on the bug to silence it completely.
All thoughts leave Odile’s head, as she stares wide-eyed at the intruder that so rudely burst into her room.
“Odile.” A tall figure stands at her doorway, all dark shadows and sharp edges, illuminated by crafted candles flickering in the inn’s hallways. A hint of metal gleams from the end of the short-sleeved shirt the figure wears, a piece of their prosthetic catching the light, and Odile can’t help but notice the frantic panic they hold, as that hand still clutches the handle to her door.
“Rin.” She says, shock fading into suspicion, as a slight movement in her palm reminds her of her current predicament, “Why are you in my room?”
“I thought I heard something,” Rin isn’t looking at her, but that in itself isn’t all that strange. Rin rarely looked others in the eye, so Odile would be remiss to use that as an admission of guilt. No, that in itself was not proof. Instead, was the way Rin chose to look at her. Just for a moment. An instant, really. But the second Rin burst into her room, she could have sworn she saw Mirabelle’s Bodyguard dart a glance at her cupped hands.
Now to gather further evidence.
“Oh? And you didn’t think to knock?” She needs to buy some time. Something is going on here, but she doesn’t have enough pieces to put together yet, other than the weakly scrabbling insect in her hand. The insect she could have sworn she accidentally crushed, and still hasn’t gotten a good look at, thanks to this giant looming over her.
“I knocked.” Why now? Why did they have to barge in on her now that she’s finally managed to catch the thing in the act? Now that she might finally get some answers? The timing is too suspicious, isn’t it?
“And you didn’t wait for an answer?” Shattering Gems and Crushed Shards! What can she say to make them leave?! To make them explain themselves? If she calls them out on her suspicions, would they feel cornered enough to answer? If she shows them her catch, will they help her understand it, or will they muddy the waters further?
“I was worried.” A lie, no doubt. Rin hesitates, and then- “Odile, what’s in your hand?”
Ah. So that’s how it is then? The choice is taken from her.
The bug still writhes between her palms, and Odile can’t help but feel a little comradery in the action, wary as she is of the individual who waits, still as stone, for her answer.
Unless... “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”
Rin stills, any room for movement there might have been before, quieted. “What do you mean?” they ask with a forced casual tone,gently releasing the handle to Odile’s door.
In her mind, Odile rejoices, her shot in the dark having yielded a surprising result. Now to figure out what it all means, to keep digging deeper. “What is this?” She repeats the question posed to her, holding her hand aloft, before carefully, carefully, unslotting her fingers by degrees, to allow a glimpse at what lay inside.
At a closer range, Odile can pick out an intricate metallic carapace. The creature is smooth, save for grooves coursing through it in regular intervals, half a hairs width in size. It’s single eye turns to face her, composed of a large pupil, with angled slats where the iris of a human might lay, shuttering and sliding against one another to smoothly widen, and contract, the black circle in the center. Anything further, Odile fails to make out, as the features so far noticed were in great part thanks to the candlelight shining on the creature, and it made great haste to squirm itself away, and closer to a large gap in the far side of her hand.
In a panic, Odile changes her grip, sealing off the creature once more.
“I don’t-”
“What is it.” It’s not a question this time. Not really. That glance, that moment, was all Odile really needed to jump to an ill-formed conclusion, and she was more than ready to see it through.
“A rare bug.” Rin’s lying, Odile knows they are. Their eyes haven’t returned to her once since their initial interference, but she can see the false confidence in their stance, the eagerness to move on. Why would they move on, for all they claimed to be worried about her?
“That’s not it. But you know, don’t you?”
“What do you mean? It’s obviously some weird bug that you decided to fixate on.”
“Hm. No, I think you can do better than that.” The candlelight flickers between Odile and Rin. The in-between shade of Rin’s arms, the metallic grooves that shift with their movement, a perfect mirror to the carapace of her captive, “This belongs to you, doesn’t it?”
That causes pause, “I-”
“Admit it.” Odile won’t let this stand. She’s exhausted, but not so far out as to let go of a lead. And she knows, now, more than ever, that if she lets go, she’ll never get the answer she so craves.
There’s silence, and but for the movement of the insect still in her hand, Odile would think time stood still.
Rin’s brow furrows. They sigh. Finally, an explanation.
“Yes. Okay, fine. You caught me. It’s a Crafted project I’ve been working on.” As they speak, Odile waits for the elation, the vindication, the feeling that she was right to well up inside her. It doesn’t come. She’s still missing something. But what?
Odile remembers all at once- Rin is incapable of Craft. Mirabelle had proven as much. They’re still lying to her.
“I figured if I imbued some Craft in a little sculpture...” A buzzing fills Odile’s ears, and it’s not from the insect. A cold fury washes over her as she ceases to comprehend Rin’s words.
“Try again.” There’s a warning in her tone, and Odile thinks back to every moment in her youth she had been criticized for her bluntness, her temper. The criticism can wait; now is the time for answers.
Rin is mad too, Odile can see it in their face, an impatience, an anger like her own, lurking beneath, “What do you want from me?!”
After all this, they’re still playing dumb?
Odile snaps.
“The TRUTH!” She shouts, exhausted of the game, and tired of waiting for it’s resolution, “The truth! Damn you Rin! All I want is some Gems forsaken answers!! I notice these things, an irritation, an irregularity, and I try to investigate it, and you appear like fools gold obscuring my research! I think I’ve struck Gold and it’s you, you, everywhere I look, Pyrite drowning out any hint of discovery. This creature, this... thing, is made to resemble you, or you’ve structured your prosthetic to copy it’s form, but either way, it’s yours, and you won’t admit it! Why?! What could you possibly have to lose, possibly have to gain, from sharing these things with us, with your party-”
All at once, Odile grows quiet, a horror creeping up on her.
“-or do they know?” It’s possible, isn’t it? “You’ve been with Mirabelle the longest, and Isabeau was a Defender, so maybe-” Rin would tell their primary client important information, wouldn’t they? And a Defender would have training in such things, right? “I know you all have been jokingly guessing about my research, so I would hope you have come to trust my input on things. Not everything, clearly, needs to be discussed with me, but I would hope that I would be kept in the loop, or that if I asked, but... Am I the only one who doesn’t-”
Odile chokes.
Is it her? Is there something wrong with her, specifically? Is she the only one who doesn’t get to know? She’s been with Rin, with Mirabelle, with Isabeau, the whole group, for months now. She could understand suspicion in sharing things with the newer members, but she would hope they were past this by now.
This is stupid, she’s too old to fear things such as being left out. There has to be a logical explanation, and if there isn’t, there’s no need to concern herself with the opinion of others. Gems Above know that she’s grown up ignoring the whispers of how little she fit in- Is it... is it because she’s not Vaugardian? Has her heritage kept her from this, too? A hidden barrier she can never surpass, by consequence of her birth and home? Odile feels sick, and it’s only from habit that she holds her grip on the cause of her revelation, her strife, and she jolts.
A foreign pressure, holds her hands firmly. Sleek metal and synthetic flesh attempting comfort. Odile takes a deep breath.
“I didn’t want you to know,” Rin’s speaking to her now, voice low and hands placed on her own, “because I was keeping it a secret from everyone, not just you.”
Odile is shaking, she hadn’t even noticed. Rin’s grip is firm and gentle, a warmth radiating from their hands. They keep her steady, as they continue to explain.
“It’s technology, not Craft.” they admit, “Or maybe a little bit of Craft, now, I’m still not entirely sure how all of that works, or how being around it affects them, or even really how to document it well. I’m still working on that.”
They’re facing away from Odile, gaze locked firmly on something on the wall to her right. She would have found obvious avoidance comical if she was in any other sort of situation than this. Instead she draws strength from the fact that the two of them have this in common, a shared moment of deep discomfort. A small part of her feels guilt for the satisfaction in finally getting to know, and she settles it down to sit with her silence.
“I use them to keep an eye on everyone, to make sure the group is safe, since I can’t be everywhere at once.” Carefully, Rin taps Odile’s hands, and reluctantly, she releases her hold.
Stiff joints pop, and Odile stretches them out as her flat palms reveal the insect that has been bugging her for so long. Now that it’s uncovered, Odile witnesses as thin articulate joints stretch in much the same way as she just did, as crumpled wings spread to reveal narrow dull blades. The creature, no, the technology adjusts itself, putting things to rights and reestablishing balance, before it takes off, hovering silently between Odile and Rin.
“I’m sorry for not letting you know sooner. I didn’t trust you, which, you knew. You didn’t really trust me either, which, was fair. And I didn’t think it needed explaining.”
“You didn’t think I would find out, you mean.”
Rin winces, and Odile lets out a small laugh, arms falling to her sides.
It seems even now, Rin’s expression is clear as an open book. Odile laughs, once more, at her own ridiculousness. One would assume she was twenty years younger with how badly that overreaction took hold. All of this over an easily explained... Odile straightens in realization.
“Wait. Wait stop, hold on.” Odile turns, snatching up her book and pen, “You said this is technology? Machinations? Things that fly entirely without Craft, and that can somehow report their status and goings on around them without any audible feedback? Insanity! How does it work?”
Rin inches closer to the door, as Odile furiously takes notes. Without turning to look up from her book, Odile reaches out a hand to snag the retreating Bodyguard, and pulls none too gently.
“Oh no, you’re sticking with me until you can explain all of this.” There’s so much to ask, so much to take note on! Odile doesn’t think she’ll be able to fit it all on the pages she’s allocated to her ‘Inquiries on Strange Insects’. She’ll have to get one of her blank notebooks. But first, questions! She can write those down at least.
“It’s two in the morning! Can’t this wait?” Rin looks constipated. That’s a shame. Odile has absolutely no intention of letting them slip away.
“Wait for you to run away, or pretend we didn’t have this conversation, you mean? No. Absolutely not. Sit.”
Rin hesitates. They could easily remove her grip on them, if they so desired. Odile held no illusions about her Old-Lady-Arms being able to restrain a fully trained Bodyguard. Much less restrain the brute force of an individual who, has proven on more than one occasion, that their best method on dealing with large problems was to physically move them out of the way.
Rin sits. Odile gets out a blank notebook.
In the morning, things will be different. The two might go back to their old hostility. Old annoyances about kept secrets and hidden motives might rear their head. A relationship isn’t repaired in a night, trust being even more difficult to build. But for now, the two of them talk, and laugh, and complain, and the night grows lighter in the comfort of truths laid bare.