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“Dandelion-seed simmering experiment number one hundred and sixty is now in progress. Let’s see…”
Dandelions, like human feelings, were fragile. A gentle breeze could alter the course of their journey; a word, phrase or expression could build or break the human spirit. Sucrose knew the delicacies of both all too well (she’d avoided human interactions with the same concerns Albedo had regarding them, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t observing. She lived a great deal among humans, studying them close at hand, it hadn’t much changed her opinion of them – vulnerable, emotional, prone to weakness, easily breakable – she’d never write any of these in her reports to the Chief Alchemist, though. They were saved for the private pages of her locked notebooks, relentless scribbles bleeding over the pages in near indecipherable black ink. That reminded her, she needed to buy more.)
She placed a bunsen burner beneath a beaker, going for a different approach, something that added a touch of gentleness to suit the nature of these flimsy seeds. They simmered in a small glass beaker instead of the cauldron she’d used the past hundred and fifty-nine times. That, she had realised too late, was overkill, and she’d worked on adjusting the temperature with lighter, more manageable equipment. What were scientists if not learners and triers through trial and error?
The seeds were delicate. She adjusted the metal ring around the bunsen burner once more, experienced fingers twisting it so the flame turned blue, bubbles dancing around the dandelions – not too harsh, not too soft either, just enough to extract their essence. (She was too prideful to ask Master Diluc for his reference notes on dandelion wine, though, it eluded her how he truly called it that when they used grapes and not pure dandelions for their wine; it felt like a cheat code, an excuse for not trying hard enough to use the flowers alone. That was fine, what ordinary people had given up on, she would still put in the required effort to at least attempt, even if it took multiple tries.)
The seeds didn’t burn. Water ripped, bubbling up to the surface, tranquil in its own right, the sweet scent permeating the air until–
Bam.
“Sucrose! There you are!”
Glass rattled. She held in a sigh.
“T-Timaeus!” She squeaked, her timid facade, her natural pretence, sliding back on her face like a comforting mask. “What brings you here?”
“Albedo; he just left for Dragonspine. He gave me my report back first. Something about impractical application of the theory I was studying…”
Sucrose bit down a laugh. Timaeus – he wasn’t stupid, just an overexcited, hopeful idiot, barely even an apprentice, more of an alchemy enthusiast; the only reason she suspected Albedo kept him around was because it would give Sucrose a chance to improve her social skills even when hauled up in the lab, a severe oversight on his part since she’d rather interact with more intellectual beings than him and her bones, chemicals and glass equipment were far superior in that regard. He was a mascot, a fanatic of the possibilities alchemy could achieve, rarely getting his sleeves dirty with stains, remains and knife cuts or bunsen burns to truly call himself an experienced alchemist. Sucrose found him entertaining nonetheless, it was only a shame she had to stifle her mirth behind the placating mask of awkwardness – ink trails were the only things she saw blackening Timaeus’ wrists from all the reports and hare-brained hypotheses he came up with. He should really consider being a scribe instead, she heard there was a title like that in Sumeru, perhaps he’d fit in better there – maybe, if he kept this up, she’d consider giving Albedo the idea of Timaeus being a messenger instead, indirectly of course, as a passing suggestion.
She turned back to the beaker. “How long did he say he will be gone this time?”
“Undecided, as always,” Timaeus supplied, helpfully unhelpful. You didn’t bother to ask. “But I’ve got work to do before he gets back. I’ve been trying to create a solution that can help soothe the mind, so–“
“ Oh? ” Sucrose raised a brow, despite him being blind to it – the sudden, upbeat lilt in her voice was unmistakable to her, or those who were paying attention (Timaeus obviously wasn’t one of them, adding deaf and unconscious fool along with his incredibly amusing traits) – he’d captured her genuine interest, attention, a rare feat. “A… calming tonic?”
“Yeah! Ying’er said she’s been stressed about the number of customers who’ve been coming in recently, so I thought I could help make her something to help calm her down.”
“You want to manipulate human emotions,” Sucrose said, pointing out a fact that left no room for error or questions. “Some proposition.”
“Uh… not quite? I was thinking of using some herbs that can produce that calming effect. Maybe qingxin, or calla lilies…”
“Fascinating,” she murmured, “to think an herb can have such an effect on human nerves… Timaeus,” Sucrose turned to him, “show me your report.”
It was an order, a light one, but due to (Timaeus’ ridiculous assumption of what he would call) their friendship, he handed the papers over, Sucrose running a gloved finger down the words, skipping over additional, unnecessary words and lengthy explanations with flowery prose – she cut to the heart of the matter, his hypothesis and theories on the herbs and their effects.
He finally showed some level of intellect.
In truth, it was solid, but Albedo was right, as always. Timaeus’ execution plan for achieving this particular calming solution was… invalid, starting out simple and becoming utterly convoluted. The foundation was there, and Sucrose knew she could draw on that, analysing and memorising every line of text (it had potential, not for her current experiment. She’d save this for another one, one she’d test out on herself and two more subjects she kept hidden in a basement.)
“It has potential,” she said, “but it needs work. You should–“
“Sucrose? The beaker–“
Water splashed. The seeds had dissolved.
Sucrose sighed for real this time.
“…Make plans for dandelion-seed simmering experiment number one hundred and sixty one.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Sucrose. Are you here for your regular pick-up?”
Katheryne greeted her the same as always. That's what she loved about the Adventurers’ Guild’s reliable mascot, predictable, forward, no pretences, free from the constraints of human weakness and emotions. Better still, Katheryne never shared unneeded information with anyone, the only person (or synthetic robot) who could be trusted with a secret.
“Yes, Katheryne. What do you have for me?”
“Some fresh hilichurl bones, courtesy of the Traveler. She made sure to leave it as unbroken as possible, but she did warn me about the possible lingering elemental traces of anemo and hydro. There are also some from a mitachurl, and one more from a Thunderhelm Lawachurl – the Traveler had them packaged and delivered from Inazuma. They are two days old, at best.”
“Thank you Katheryne. These will do nicely.”
Sucrose reached out for the neatly wrapped box, then paused, a thought coming to her. She turned to Katheryne, the robot watching with her blank, all-seeing optics.
“Actually, Katheryne… Do you have any Ruin Guard components?”
“Ruin Guard components? I don’t have any on hand at the moment, but if you wish to put in a new request, I can alert the Traveler to deliver some to you before the next shipment.”
“That would be great, Katheryne, thank you.”
Sucrose turned and saw a flash of red and sunlight blond. Klee, waiting at the Mondstadt gates as always whenever Albedo left for an extended period. Children were adorable in their youthful innocence. Sucrose would never bring herself to harbour any ill will towards them, nor dark, condescending amusement she had for her fellow alchemy mascot back at the lab. They were pure, and they needed to be kept that way – ingredients were best when fresh, after all. (Klee’s race was a point of fascination for Sucrose. She was part of a long-life species, her blood containing the means for prolonging one’s existence. Sucrose had always hoped to obtain a sample, coincidentally timing her visits to Barbara’s infirmary at the cathedral when she heard Klee was there but they were few and fat between; for someone who loved creating and throwing bombs, Klee was surprisingly adept at ensuring she never getting any sort of injuries on her person, and Klee wasn’t even protected or supervised on the regular. One drop, two if Sucrose was lucky, would be enough for her subjects locked in the basement.)
“Klee,” Sucrose approached gently, “did you see Mr. Albedo off?”
“Yup! I watched him walk all the way there from here, so Big Brother Albedo is safe.”
“And did he say when he’ll return?”
“He said he’ll be there for two days. He promised that we would cook lots of Woodland Dream once he comes back.”
Children were proving themselves more useful than a supposed alchemist. Sucrose was seriously considering slipping Albedo an anonymous note about demoting Timaeus to a position of wearing a glass beaker onesie all day, every day.
“That’s great, Klee. I hope you have fun–“
“But we can’t have Woodland Dream without fishes!”
Sucrose blinked, “So what do you want to do about that?”
“Simple!” Klee threw both hands to the sky, “Fish blasting, of course!”
Ah, how sinless – we don’t consider it murder since they’re not our own species, yet the death threat lingers all the same. And no one would ever ask a fish what they think, not when they’re less intelligent species.
Sucrose laughed, genuine and outright, “Sure. Go ahead. I won’t tell Master Jean.”
“ Really? ” Klee’s eyes went wide, looking at Sucrose in wondrous amazement, “Thank you, Sucrose! I promise I won’t cause too much trouble!”
“Oh,” Sucrose waved Klee off, “no need to thank me.”
Klee ran out of the city, gleeful footsteps echoing shamelessly across the bridge.
“Let’s just hope you repay me in blood.”
“No… no… no…” Sucrose murmured, fingers tracing and brushing aside spines of books in time with her rejections, “such a large library and nothing on ancient mechanics…”
“Sucrose, darling? Is that you?”
Sucrose whirled around, purposefully jumping (she did it so much it was second nature, no one suspected a thing, they knew it she was interacting with anything that bore the same level of intellect with her – or so they thought – she’d react this way. She spent years crafting this image, so to have it crumble now was impossible. She fooled them all, their inability to see past the surface a slight on their part, not hers. It only meant it worked, her hard work had paid off, as it always had – everyone said they believed in change, especially in humans since they could grow out of their shell, but to think they didn’t apply that same “change is nature” concept to her was laughable, yet worked in her favour all the same.)
“M-Miss Lisa! I didn’t see you there.”
Lisa sighed, shaking her head as she set her chin on her palm, leaning on a railing. “Of course you didn’t, darling. Then again, it hurts to think someone like me can go ignored.”
Sucrose had to choke down another disbelieving chuckle.
Lisa – she prided herself on being unsettling, analysing every person with her conniving smile and alluring presence, drawing them in as a spider would their prey, entrapping them in her web of smooth lies and honey-sweet, manipulative smiles. She thought Sucrose was dumb, as if Sucrose didn’t know precisely what Lisa thought of her: hopeless when talking to people, very timid and easily frightened.
Sucrose may just be a bug caught in her web, but at least her wings were still free.
Her teasing for attention only revealed her serious insecurity. Sucrose had her lab, thrived in solitude, she didn’t need people to sustain her unless they brought something substantial to the table (and so far, the only one who had done that was Albedo), while Lisa – she was a rose, seeking to be loved by reflecting it off her own shark smiles and violet-soft gaze, thinking she knew better when her condescension was obvious. Should Lisa truly be a genius student as many claimed, the top of her class in the Akademiya during her student years, why make it so obvious that she could read others like a book and choose seduction, of all methods, as her execution tactic?
Unnerve people to soothe your own disconcertion. Pathetic. At least I still have some dignity.
Lisa tilted her head. “What are you looking for, darling?”
“A book,” Sucrose said, “on Ruin Guards.”
“Interesting,” the librarian purred, placing one arm over the other like arachnid limbs, “why the sudden interest?”
“Alchemy,” that was all Sucrose would admit to.
“So, you want to see what runs through their veins?”
Whatever it is, it’s more transparent than your blood.
Lisa grinned. “There’s no book like that in here, darling. You’re better off seeing one in person.”
Sending me to my doom? Strange… but spiders do enjoy playing with their food before devouring them.
“No need. I already found a way,” Sucrose dusted her hands off her skirt, straightening up to her full height. “Good day, Miss Lisa.”
Sucrose walked briskly off, her boots tapping decisively across floor tiles until–
“Hmm. You seem different today.”
She froze, momentarily, a split second that she knew Lisa would catch, but hurriedly added a shudder to cast off any suspicion, animal ears pressed to her head.
“R-Really? Sorry, I… I guess it must be my experiment. It didn’t go well, but I’m going to keep trying until–“
“–until you get it right, I know. Just don’t stay hauled up in that lab for too long, darling. It’s not often I see a cute alchemist in my library. Even your Mr. Albedo visits more frequently than you.”
Don’t be scared, come out to play.
“I-I will, Miss Lisa. Have a good day.”
Your web is tangled enough as is.
A deep breath, and Sucrose slipped through the vines.
There was a hidden door beneath a stone wall on the outskirts of Mondstadt among ruins no one cared to explore. Sucrose discovered it by coincidence out on a walk at night. It led to a wide, hollow room, with stone platforms serving as her makeshift shelves, tables she’d brought in for her own use, and more importantly, the two subjects she kept hidden.
This was her basement.
Bio-alchemy opened avenues of study she didn’t believe possible. Her limitations at the lab back in the city weren’t binding her here – here, she could get down to real work, undisturbed. One reason she and Albedo got along so well was their shared distaste for maintaining social relations because the method to do so, meaning interactions, was exhausting. They bonded over test tubes, chemicals, and discussions over various reactions – his journey to “find the meaning of life” and her obsession with the study of living things matched so well they were a near parallel, seamlessly blending their conversations in the lab and sometimes outside of it. (Yet somehow, Albedo was more well-received by others than Sucrose was, all thanks to Sucrose’s false timidity and Albedo actually putting in the effort to keep his relationships alive with those around him. That’s where their similarities ended, though she respected Albedo too much to ever insult or call him out for something she found ridiculously tiresome.)
Speaking of Albedo, however, she only ever came here in his absence during his trips to Dragonspine. This was a subject she wasn’t keen on bringing up at all over tables with glass equipment between them or casual dining areas with Klee as an unintended third wheel they babysat.
“Hush,” she commanded, sending a small wave of anemo energy at one of the windows she’d installed for it to swing shut with an affirmative click. The wind in Mondstadt was noisy enough, the last thing she needed was a replacement for Timaeus in the form of the Anemo Archon’s abilities.
She moved swiftly to two stone tables she laid out in the middle, the place her subjects lay, unmoving, unsuspecting, not meant for the light of day and likely never seeing it again until she deemed that the time was right. Her first priority, as always, was to check on the tubes stemming from two clear IV poles. She’d emptied out in favour for air bags, she didn’t need the liquid, just the gas – it travelled to their mouths and further down their throats, preserving their last breaths. They were precious, containing whatever remained of their spirits even after their souls had passed several weeks ago, ones that would serve as the lifeblood of the paradise they always dreamed of, alongside their actual blood, of course.
“This won’t hurt,” Sucrose murmured, to herself or to the two bodies, she didn’t quite know. Removing white sheets she’d placed over them, she cut a thin slit on each of their inner wrists, enough to draw a few drops of blood in two separate beakers before plastering tape and bandages to stitch them back up.
She set the beakers on bunsen burners, using heat that was gentler than the dandelion seeds to watch the blood boil and bubble, the scent of iron filling the room.
“Good. Still fresh.”
Honestly, her friends were imbeciles.
The first one - Subject One - had left on a long journey with her adventurer parents, never to return. Did she seriously believe Sucrose wouldn’t possess a way of finding her after all this time? Her connections she built with the Adventurers’ Guild had easily allowed Sucrose to inquire, out of fake concern, about the safety of her friend. Her death wasn’t Sucrose’s fault - no one asked the girl to try and tumble off a cliff alongside her parents into a whirlpool in Natlan in an effort to save their adventurous spirits from ending up at the bottom of the ocean.
Well, she’d be happy to know that her parents had a grave, at least.
Heroics should be saved for those who knew their way around malicious storms; it was why the Traveler was the only known adventurer who could challenge and fight Archons and live to tell the tale - or rather, have others sing her praises in wine and song.
Subject One should have known where she stood.
The second one - Subject Two - whose father passed after falling ill; her only fault was breaking their friendship off in the first place. Life leads unto death, and death unto new life. The cycle would always go on. Sucrose knew this; her experiment subjects were near endless in supply due to this fact. Once one had fulfilled its usefulness, she simply disposed of it, squashed another and moved on. Human life was sadly more complex and it was enough to send Subject Two into depression, her grief overwhelming and probably the only thing Sucrose could relate to since she felt the same pain when Subject Two decided to cut ties.
Except Sucrose had let it further her resolve.
It also wasn’t entirely Sucrose’s fault for Subject Two’s addiction to alcohol as a coping mechanism. Life, though beautiful, was also fragile, and she should have heeded the warnings of overdose in the note Sucrose asked Master Diluc to deliver (her final act of kindness, if she would), neatly packaged with a remedy that, when mixed with alcohol, became poison.
Sucrose didn’t plan for it. Blame it on coincidence.
Sucrose sighed as blood bubbled near her cheek, popping with a burning reverence to smear her skin. She looked over at a dormant Ruin Guard lying in the next hollowed out room in these ruins. She had one, but needed more; they were excellent security for the island, defences triggering when any living being got close (a relatable, reliable and accurate reaction). The Tetratanic Sweet Flower lay on an alchemical bench along the walls. She hadn’t managed to create pink flowers the height of a hundred people, not yet, but she wasn’t in a rush. All good things took time, patience and practice, something real, experienced alchemists knew.
Sucrose checked her notes on a cork board again.
Blood and breath: to power the island structure, similar to Leyline flow.
Ruin Guards: protection and security, identification mechanism must be added to recognise main scientist (Sucrose), Subject One and Subject Two as the only non-threatening subjects.
Plaustrite: island base, convenient for travel. (Take a trip to Liyue soon.)
There was still so much work to be done. Her friends couldn’t rest in peace, not until the island of their dreams was complete.
And Sucrose… she took that fully upon herself.
“Happily ever after… is within close reach.”
She decided to get started on that emotion-manipulating potion the moment she returned to Mond.
“Albedo! You’re back! How’d it go? Did you get my letter–”
Archons above, Timaeus, shut up.
Albedo walked in with the same measured calm, and Sucrose barely acknowledged him, just turned and gave him a subtle nod.
“Albedo,” she said, voice mild, “I trust your trip went well?”
A nod. No words were needed.
He paused, then, sharp eyes catching something on Sucrose’s face because he was over in a second, glove-covered thumb brushing over her cheek with a clinical gentleness that could rival hers.
“Blood,” he stated. “Have you been experimenting again?”
“With bones and sweet flowers. I added sugar to the veins.”
Albedo’s expression remained unreadable, before he let out a low hum.
“Be more careful, Sucrose. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Sucrose smiled.
Pain... A foreign concept, even to my subjects.