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It's early in the evening when Lynette and Furina bid the astrologist their farewells, turning away to hide bland looks on their faces. The cobbled streets of Mondstadt bask in a sunbaked glow, the surface of a recently-used table hot as Lynette slides her hands across it, sitting down in an iron chair across from Furina. Metal grinds against the sidewalk, and Lynette cringes, focusing her attention on the sign of the restaurant, big and bold words carved into a plank of wood "Good Hunter." Her stomach grumbles insistently, but she knows it isn't willing to settle for some piece of steak drowned in sauce.

"The things required for this recipe are... rather strange," Furina clears her throat, her eyes scanning the horizon cautiously, as if the astrologist can hear them from across the city. "I mean, these are all just flowers. There are cecelias, glaze lilies, forget me nots... I guess those are just around Mondstadt and Liyue, but I've never heard of an Inteyvat," Furina presses her lips together, and Lynette takes the thin slip of paper in her hands.

Furina's right. How did Mona Megistus just expect them to know what to do with a slip of paper. "More importantly," Furina lets out a sigh, "Why these specific flowers?"

"I'm familiar with some flower symbolism. For example, Lumidouce Bells are a symbol of parting; while Rainbow Roses are used to convey romantic feelings," Lynette's thumb traces down the paper. And... the lycoris radiata, what's that? Mona Megistus even put a question mark right next to it... she notes to herself, tucking a piece of hair behind her ears. Can we really trust someone who claims to be a messenger from the stars? After all, people who claim to know the future often give their customers the things they want to hear.

Maybe I'll just have to let things happen as they are.

Still, though...

The two of them poke their forks into their salad, but barely get around to eating any of it. There are visitors from Liyue at the city's fountain tonight, each of them taking turns to bask in the spotlight, performing various kinds of song and poetry. There's a drunk green guy, a weird funeral director, this girl with a purple bird starts rapping...

Lynette finds it as amusing as she finds it boring, and excuses herself to wander around the rest of the city. Her ears twitch at the sounds of something padding around in the newly plotted dirt around the back corner of a house—and she discovers a small little kitten, with white fur and a gray patch over her eye. It trots over to her, as if they have met before, and Lynette waits for it at an iron bench, where it appropriately jumps up to her and sits, it's tail swishing rather curiously.

"Hello, little thing," Lynette pats it on the head, and the two of them sit there for a while, the moon rising high over the city.

She finds it strange that the people of Mondstadt seem to forget to draw the curtains in the evening, every room from the bottom to top of the apartments seems to want the attention of people on the street. Though Lynette could probably care less about what families keep in their houses—and it's universally agreed upon that observing a person you don't know from outside their walls is kind of weird—she can't help but notice the slices of life she can see so clearly in the middle of the night. It's as if the spotlight has been shone on the children sitting around the fireplace, listening to a woman, likely their grandmother, reciting a fairytale to them. It's heartwarming to see one person lay themself on another's shoulder. Lynette finds her arms wrapped around her waist as she observes the boy, failing miserably at his stunt, being encouraged by the older men around him,

It feels almost intentional, to see those curtains drawn. How strange it is, that when night falls, the desires of people's hearts rise to the surface.

But... what exactly does Lynette want...?

Her heart aches, just a little. And the cat scampers away, just like that.

Hmph.

"Lynette? Where are you—" A voice echoes through the alleyway, and Lynette turns her graceful head towards the sound of Furina's voice. HEe friend's hair glows a brillian white in the moonlight, yet the threads of her hair seem almost invisible as Furina passes through the shadows. Lynette nods slowly, rubbing her shoulders to cure the numbness that has somehow come over them. She blinks when Furina sets a folder down on the bench, her hands fiddling nervously on the straps that will unlock it. "What's that for?" Lynette asks, flicking her tail.

Furina shrugs. "Well, I thought you liked the music I've been playing for you, correct me if I'm wrong. But I was thinking that maybe... maybe you could learn an instrument of your own. Then we could duet," Furina unlatches the case, and removes the lid to reveal sheet music, the sheets wrinkled, as if they have been held by many hands over a series of time. Lynette brushes her hands over the creased paper, and adjusts the folded edges on the side of one of the sheets. She recognizes some of the notes, but...

Lynette hesitates. "Is this piano? Sorry, I can't just master that in a few days."

"Right, right," Furina looks defeated. Lynette sags.

"I suppose I'll try it anyway," Lynette murmurs under her breath.

There's a piano in the Goth Grand Hotel, and the two of the head there, Lynette promptly placing herself on the bench with the velvet cushion. Furina watches from behind, her hands folded at her waist as she waits politely.

Lynette hesitates. She's about to play an instrument, in the lobby of a grand hotel, in the middle of the night. There isn't anyone at the front desk, and quite frankly, there isn't a person who would want to hear the echoes of notes clamoring together at such an hour. What exactly is Lynette doing? She rests her hands on the keys according to the bard's instruction and taps the notes her and their, her foot pressing down on the pedal. "How do I do this chord...?"

"Fingers here." Furina points,

and suddenly

a note comes out.

Smooth and sweet like honey, and Lynette holds it for as long as she can. Beautiful, a little bittersweet- anyone can tell that the piano hasn't been tuned in a while. Furina stares, wide eyed. Lynette is shocked. 

She supposes she has played before, some kind of muscle memory, or something in her blood. She ignores the sheet music and plays chords from her memory, one after another, sweet and sour, thick and thin. Soon she's weaving a symphony into existence, her hands crafting random notes out of nowhere, the sounds melding together into one wonderful painting.

The girl watches, listens, mesmerized by an unspoken talent.

Lynette has no idea how long she's been playing, and she wishes there was a chance, any chance, that she could relive the moment that is about to become a memory.

But alas, things cannot go forever, and she finally closes on a low note, Lynette's heart let down slowly by the song's finale. It is almost as if she is letting her company down too, and quite possibly the entire world, the warm and comfy feeling fading into a realized despair.

Her past is just out of reach, she realizes. If only she could fully grasp it.

"You should head up for the night," Furina says softly, smiling.

"We're leaving already?" Lynette resists the urge to cover her mouth. Part of her wants to keep playing. Her hands rest regretfully on the once dusty keys.

"Well, today has been quite an adventure, don't you think? And tomorrow this all just continues," The eccentric girl sighs with satisfaction, leaving Lynette without another word, another cheeky glance. She holds the piano a little longer, finger running across its glossy shape, moon-shot keys turned pearlescent in the light, wondering if she could replay the song she has strung together with the feelings left by stolen memories.

Lynette thinks, and thinks very hard, sitting in the darkness of the hotel lobby. But she can't remember the first chords before her head begins to pang and her eyes begin to flutter, and she realizes that she should probably go to bed soon.

She unbuttons the folder Furina has left behind, opens the lid, and dust pours out. Lynette sneezes and rubs her nose, wondering how so much dust has built up for the case to explode. But when the dust settles across the ground, Lynette sees something glowing inside. With blurred eyes she picks up the brilliantly colored ornament, wondering if it's Furina's or something she collected and forgot about. Without a second glance, she folds the teal marble between the sheets of paper, and leaves the room without a sound.

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???

The sound of simple piano, a squeaky violin, and a sweet voice echoes in the back of her mind.

Perhaps it is just a dream, but as soon as Lynette realizes that it must be a memory, she shoots up out of bed—

Her throat is tight. Her eyes are stinging with tears.

She looks down at the violin case, which is barely traceable in the blanket of the shadows.

Why... why do I keep waking up? Lynette sleepily rubs her eyes, and the next time she opens them—it is already morning.

???

" .  .  . "

"Lyney, are you alright?" 

"Huh?"

"You look like you're thinking about something."

"No, nothing. Just... just a thought."