The night was calm, a stillness in the air that seemed to settle over the House of the Hearth like a heavy, comforting blanket. High above, the stars flickered faintly, their cold light stretching across the vast sky. The rooftop, usually a place of solitude, now held two figures in the quiet — you and Arlecchino, perched side by side on the stone edge, sharing a rare moment of peace.

The breeze was cool, brushing gently against your skin as you exhaled, watching the thin tendrils of smoke curl up toward the stars before they disappeared into the night. Arlecchino sat beside you, silent, her gaze fixed upward, her features sharp against the moonlight. Her usual mask of control and intensity seemed softer here, touched by the quiet of the night.

In her hand, a cigarette burned, the soft ember glowing faintly in the dark. It felt strange, almost unreal, to be here like this with her, the stern and impenetrable Knave. Arlecchino was not one for unnecessary conversations or displays of emotion, and yet here you were, sharing the silence, each exhale of smoke like a word unspoken between you.

You watched her as she took another drag, the faint glow of the cigarette highlighting her pale skin and sharp features. Her gaze remained skyward, distant, like she was searching for something beyond the endless expanse of stars. She had always been an enigma, an impenetrable force of nature that no one in the House dared question. But here, on the rooftop, under the cold light of the stars, she seemed almost human.

Arlecchino exhaled slowly, the smoke lingering in the air before it was carried away by the wind. Her eyes finally left the sky, turning briefly toward you. A strange, distant softness crept into her voice as she broke the silence again. "You remind me of the stars, you know."

You froze for a moment, your cigarette paused mid-air. It was such a peculiar thing for her to say, so out of character for the composed, commanding Arlecchino. She didn’t glance at you, keeping her gaze upward.