Work Text:
Lappland Saluzzo was not a woman of vengeance. She was not a woman of anger. She was a woman who enjoyed life’s little pleasures, who reveled in the things that made her smile.
When she was very young, she found someone who made every nerve in her body light up, who made every single atom within her body tingle. It produced a sensation unlike anything she’d felt before and anything she’d felt since.
Stories preach of the presence of “love at first sight.” For a moment upon their meeting, it almost felt like just that. But in Siracusa, no stories went the way they were supposed to.
Lappland’s eyes had met those of the young Texas heiress, and both of them felt a spark. It split in two, leaving half in each of them. In normal stories, this would bond the two together, marking them as soulmates. But Cellinia, a spiteful, angry girl, extinguished it with a flood of all those negative emotions that had always evaded Lappland.
Thus, their fate was left in the hands of Lappland. Two choices laid before her. To let her half of the spark dwell within her forever, to make herself a sort of lovestruck suitor for Cellinia, doomed to a life of nothing more. Or to put out the spark as Cellinia had done, and seal their fates as enemies for life.
Ultimately, Lappland chose the latter.
Maybe it was the spark that compelled her to do as she did, and mimic Texas’s dramatic extinguishing.
Whatever it was that drove her to copy Cellinia’s method, it was something that the both of them may forever resent.
While Cellinia had been filled with negative emotions, Lappland had never been a girl of anger or sadness.
As all chemistry enthusiasts know, replacing some elements in an equation often causes very different results than the intended product.
Lappland was not a chemistry enthusiast.
Spite and mania cause incredibly different reactions when applied to true love’s spark.
Spite extinguishes. Mania ignites.
Where Cellinia’s emotions had drowned the spark in a flood of murky water, Lappland’s served more as gasoline.
The spark of true love starts as such: a spark. Over time, it grows, usually up to about the size of a football. Never bigger than a basketball. Lappland’s grew to encompass her whole body in the span of a few seconds.
Someone with X-ray vision could look inside her and see nothing but an inferno.
So the two girls shook hands, and Cellinia turned to leave, and Lappland kept her hold.
When Cellinia vanished, Lappland could do nothing but track her down. Boredom was her worst enemy, and Cellinia never failed to excite her.
When she found the last Texas beside some odd new friends, Lappland was elated beyond belief. A few years of hunting faded away in the presence of the furious Lupo. But as she faced them, the girls of Penguin Logistics, she saw something that she decidedly did not like.
The blonde singer smiled at Lappland, and then looked to Cellinia with… devotion. No one was supposed to look at her like that. No one but Lappland.
And then something happened that made her blood run cold. The wide-eyed Sankta took Cellinia’s hand, and passed her a questioning look. And Texas looked back, and something close to a smile graced her face.
It was the most beautiful and revolting thing Lappland had ever laid eyes on.
So what else could she do?
She lunged for Texas, some filthy emotion roiling in her gut, a laugh that wasn’t her own leaving her mouth. Texas drew her blade, flicking it up towards Lappland’s face.
This was a dance they’d performed many a time. They’d perfected it by the time they were seventeen. It always ended the same way: both of them facing each other, panting, Texas’s face twisted in frustrated fury and Lappland’s teeth bared in a vicious grin.
It had always been like that, until some different feeling wormed its way into Lappland, throwing the whole dance off.
Lappland was an incredible swordswoman, agile, quick and strong. Texas was the same. In all their lives, neither had ever managed to get the upper hand. They’d always left spars on equal footing: either both injured, both fine, or both being dragged to their rooms by Saluzzo bodyguards.
Neither of them ever had the upper hand. Neither of them ever felt something different, either.
But when Lappland saw the gentleness that Cellinia showed the Sankta, jealousy bubbled up within her, against her will. And then, something worse: disgust. Lappland had believed that Cellinia was like her. That neither were capable of softness. That they were cut from the same cloth, that they were two sides of the same, unchanging coin. But Texas was now able to be gentle, and to be gentle to someone who would never know her like Lappland did.
So when Lappland saw the blade coming, she stumbled. She never stumbled.
There was a moment of shocked silence after the hit. The Penguin Logistics people were lost, looking between the two Lupos, waiting for an explanation that would never come.
Texas stared down at Lappland, eyes wide and blade frozen, poised above her and ready to strike the killing blow.
Lappland stared up at Cellinia, a hand covering her left eye, blood spilling out between her fingers. Her smile had faded.
And then it returned.
Her breathing was heavy as she began to laugh. The Sankta, the Forte and the blonde all took a few steps back. Texas lowered her sword. For a moment, everything was as it should always be: angry Texas facing laughing Lappland. If things were normal, this would be when Lappland struck back, nicking Cellinia’s left eye in turn.
But then the Sankta came close, hesitantly crouching down in front of her.
“Are you alright?” she asked, and her concerned tone only fueled Lappland’s hysteria.
Her laughter died as Texas put her hand on the Sankta’s shoulder, blade returned to its sheath at her waist.
“Get away from her,” Cellinia ordered. Lappland wasn’t sure if she was talking to her or the Sankta.
Whatever Texas’s intent, the Sankta stepped back as Lappland remained on the ground. Mirthless giggling erupted from her mouth without her permission.
“Yes, I’m alright!” she said to the Sankta, getting to her feet. “In terms of vision, it may seem. I am indeed all right.” She removed her hand, blood caking the left side of her face. Her left eye wouldn’t open. A vicious cut sliced through her eyebrow down to her cheekbone.
Texas then did something unforgivable.
“Sorry,” she apologized. It was insincere, but it still was.
Lappland’s laughter caught in her throat briefly, before she roared with it. She couldn’t get out any words. Cellinia had apologized. She never apologized. She never—
“What… what have these people done to you, Cel-”
“Don’t call me that.” The dark-haired Lupo cut her off. She turned away from Lappland. She was breaking all the rules.
Yet Lappland couldn’t find it in herself to stab Texas in the back. Never turn your back on anyone. That was a lesson the both of them had learned and taught in turn.
“Texas.” Lappland said, all traces of elation gone.
“What.” Texas responded flatly.
“Who are you?”
Cellinia seemed to understand, as she always did and always would. “I am Texas, an employee of Penguin Logistics. I deliver packages safely.”
Lappland wanted nothing more than to cut out Cellinia’s tongue so she would stop spewing such ridiculous jokes.
She couldn’t. Something stopped her.
Even as Penguin Logistics gathered their things to leave, Lappland did nothing. She did nothing. She sat on the ground in silence, blood drying on her face and caking her nails. She watched in silence as they left.
And she waited a few moments, to see if Texas would look back.
Texas did not.
So Lappland got up and began to trail them.
She may have lost Cellinia, but she would not lose Texas.