Remilia roamed her vast garden, feeling the soft caress of the cold nocturnal winds against her skin, admiring the blooming of her hemlocks, nightshades, her bloodflowers and henbanes. To her eyes, even in the dark the colors were striking, enchanting. The silence and the darkness were relaxing, now that all lights in the manor had gone out, and all its residents were asleep.
And yet Remilia could hear soft sounds coming from the garden, and in the distance, a brilliant dot caught her attention. She took flight, drawn towards that luminosity, and soon saw that it came from within one the garden's gazebo, the one with the open roof. There, a candle glimmered a frail orange, and the fire cast a familiar shadow upon the floor. Her feet back on solid ground, Remilia stepped up slowly towards the light and warmth. There, under a rose moon, she found Patchouli sat by a table, wistfully turning the pages of a small book, inattentive, one hand carefully grasping the book, the other resting upon her lap.
"Patch," Remilia asked for her attention. Patchouli leaned her head in response, revealing shining, thoughtful eyes. "Is there something wrong with the library?"
She shook her head. "I only wanted to go outside, for once. See all the beautiful flowers, smell something that is not dust or paper… Feel a breeze that is actually wind and not the incessant flapping of fairy wings."
"I ordered the fairies to clean the library precisely so that you would not have to deal with all the dust," Remilia reminded her. "Sometimes, when I'm about to step into your library, I fear that I'll find you transformed into a pile of dust. Perhaps it's good that you have gone out, then," she said, giving Patchouli a light kiss on the neck before taking her own seat in front of her. Between them, the candle's flame swayed hypnotically to the breeze. "What are you reading?"
"Landscapes 'Neath the Sunset's Shroud. It's an old travelogue about the western lands. You got it for me," Patch smiled when she said that. It was precisely for her love of those smiles that Remilia always had her servants scour Gensokyo for rare books to present Patchouli with. "Such beautiful illustrations," she put a finger on an elaborate painting of a river cutting a path across a forest, made of elegant, thin brushstrokes. The artists of Gensokyo had always been talented and diligent with their works, and given the long lives that so many there seemed to lead, they had plenty of time for perfectionism. Patchouli set the candle next to the book so that it could shine its light upon it, as courtesy, but that, of course, was unnecessary. Remilia's eyes were those of a night hunter, and though as of late she did very little that could be called hunting, dusk remained her close friend.
"Are you enjoying it?" That was what she cared about the most. Patch answered with a quick nod. By then Remilia had begun to find her to be strangely silent. She was usually reserved, of course, so that in of itself was not cause for concern, but when she spoke of books she liked, she would typically muster some enthusiasm. Remilia reached out for Patchouli's hand, entwining their pale, cold fingers. "Something troubles you."
"Yes," she was always quick to admit her woes to Remilia, for after so many long years of friendship - and further than that - they had learned to be entirely honest with one another. "Remi, I feel a bit… Saddened by my isolation. It's not that I don't like it in here, but reading about faraway lands makes me so curious… The illustrations are not enough, and I would really like to see them someday."
"See them, then. It is a beautiful world out there."
"It's not that simple, Remi," Patchouli insisted. "I know that there is much beauty to be seen, but still, I despise being outdoors. The sun and its brightness, its sweltering heat… Though I may not be a vampire, sunshine hurts me as well. It leaves my skin full of blisters, sore and red, sweaty and itchy."
"Are you certain your are not half vampire?" Remilia said, showing her fangs as she smirked. "There was that time you let me taste your blood, if you remember, and-"
"It's not a joke. And, Remi, I was reading a… A book about, well… Please do not laugh at me. A book I borrowed from Marisa," now that was new. "About things that couples do."
"Oh," that did sound like something Patch would do. Remilia found it a little bit embarrassing, but also endearing. "Well, I suppose we might need some help on that front. Go on."
"So…" Patchouli must have remembered that Remilia's eyes were attuned to the dark, so, hurriedly, she picked up her book and hid her face behind it. That did little to conceal her blush, but Remilia couldn't hide her grin, either. "From what I've read, couples go out together. As in, out. Not home. Outside."
"That's true," said Remilia. She found it adorable how even saying the word outside seemed like a struggle to Patch. "And that's how you got the idea of seeing the world?"
"N-Not the world!" She was quick to clarify. "That's too much for my poor heart. We don't have to go so far away. If it's too much of a bother for you, then I'd be happy just walking outside the gates, and-"
"We can go a bit farther," Remilia said, leaning closer to Patchouli. Relaxed, she showed her face again, and even threatened a smile.
"That would be lovely. But, ah… Therein lies my problem, you see… The night is fine for you, but to me it's blinding. And day isn't good for either of us… That's why I've just been reading. So I could see something of the world, or at least imagine it, and imagine you by my side as well."
"You don't need to imagine, my dear," Remilia said, getting up, offering her hand to Patchouli. She took it, and slowly rose to her feet. "We ought to head inside, this wind can do you no good. It would be a shame if you were to catch a cold just because you came outside."
"R-Right," Patchouli said, picking up her book, and snuffing out her candle. When she walked by Remilia's side in the dark, she never needed a light: she alway trusted her completely. Remilia repaid that trust by making sure to take slow, measured steps. The two of them were women of slow rhythms, as their longevity that taught them patience, and for that they felt, to Remilia, like fateful, perfect matches.
They walked back towards the manor, passing by the garden. A meandering path, but one that afforded them plenty of time to talk, to whisper sweet words in secretive tones, even though they were the only living things here in the dead of the night. And, most importantly, it gave Remilia more than enough time to reflect on how to make good on her promise to her love.
For the first time since the founding of the manor, the bells rang at sunrise, not dusk. The sound broke Patchouli's concentration just as she was this close to figuring out the meaning of some wordplay which had confused her for so long. The fairy maids were already at work, for certain generous definitions of at work, occasionally scrubbing a portion of the floor, and staring blankly at the bookshelves, as if pretending to organize it. Some had also begun to clean the windows, pulling back the curtains and leisurely wiped the dirty glass with some wet rags, and-
Wait, she thought. No light shone through the window, even though a nearby clock gave ample proof that morning had just begun. She rushed to the windows, nearly slipping on the wet floor, and cursed the fairies between teeth. She looked up above, but could not see the sun, nor the wheat-like color of the horizon at dawn. Patchouli had never seen wheat, but she knew its color, at least. She could not see blue skies, either, or any color but scarlet.
Outside, everything was unclear, hazy. The deep red that painted the world was a pretty color, but disquieting all the same. And yet it did not feel like unfamiliar magic to her. She sighed, a bit disappointed at the notion that Remilia had gone back to her reckless enormities of old. Though she was already centuries old when they first met, Remilia still had a childlike streak when she befriended Patchouli, and only with the passing decades did she begin to simmer down. But then again, she was a creature of chaos, deep down, so perhaps it was in her vampiric nature to, sometimes, do these utterly stupid follies that she could call a prank.
Life in the Scarlet Manor had made Patchouli grow quite accustomed to madness, so her first thought was to simply turn back and return to her reading, but a soft rap against the windowpane made her return to it, and just outside, casually flying with her wings lazily fluttering, Remilia greeted her with an unusual smile. Patchouli couldn't tell what it meant, but to see Remilia outside, beneath the sun…
"I understand now," Patchouli said, then noticed that Remi would be unable to hear her with the windows shut. Frustrated, Patchouli struggled to open them with her weak skinny arms, feeling a cold gust creep inside, and repeated herself. "Blocking the sun… I do recall you mentioning it as a possibility, but I never thought you would go so far."
"I'll admit I have shied away from trouble for quite a while," she said, then covered a giggle with her palm. "Come," her other hand she offered to Patchouli, who took it, held it firmly, and jumped outside. Remilia urged her to rise, and Patchouli did as was requested of her. Her feet left the ground as the two took to the sky together, enveloped in red mist, and Patchouli could see nothing but Remilia.
They were atop the manor, now, and though much of her horizon was tinted red, Patchouli could see the woods around the manor, and what she thought might be a lake. It was not at all what she had expected, but she saw some appeal to it.
"You hate the sun," Remilia said. "And I… Well, I fear it, more than despise it. No matter. Look," she pointed up, at the bloodied skies. "It is gone. Now we will not burn, your beautiful hair will not be damaged, and you won't have to worry about your skin becoming an ugly red when everything is red already, hm?"
"You did this for-"
"For you, of course. A gift," she stared at the vague silhouette of the sun, clad in crimson, and smiled. She wrapped her arms around Patchouli's waist, and pulled her close, and Patchouli was more than glad to accept. "Let us see the world now, or, at least, some of it."
"I can't belie-"
"Can't believe I did it for you? Maybe I am a bit of an overdramatic, pathetic romantic," definitely, Patchouli thought, but she appreciated that. "In that book you read, about things that couples do… I bet it said that you are supposed to say sappy things, like:" Her voice became playful and exaggerated as she spoke. "Oh, my beloved, I'd give thee the sun… Well, I'm just doing the same, aren't I? In reverse, perhap, but that's how we've always done things."
"Yes," Patchouli said, holding Remilia tighter to her. "Yes, you are right. Thank you, Remi. This is wondrous."
When their embrace was done, the two stood atop the roof, silent, watching the mist spread. A full minute had passed when Patchouli finally realized something that made her very worried, almost guilty.
She had no clue how she could possibly give Remi a gift half as good as this. Patchouli had little to give her but books, and those seemed quite a poor offering when compared to sun-smothering mist. She hunched her back ever so slightly to be on Remilia's level, and looked at her right in the eyes. Then, she gave her the only gift she could afford: a soft and quick kiss, a small thing, barely perceptible, but Remilia had always been very attentive. A kiss was not the sun, but her gift sprung from the heart as well, so it was just as valuable.
Patchouli really hoped she was right about that.