Chapter Text
You wake up in the middle of a field.
You… wake up in the middle of the field.
Your heart pounds in your chest. The loud sound hurts your ears. You have a beating heart now.
Every time you woke up, it would be under the Favor Tree. Under the Favor Tree where you would talk to Stardust. The actual Siffrin the Universe wanted, while you were just the backstage actor waiting for nothing to come to you. You just had a dumb name you called yourself. Loop.
Yet, you thought Loop would disappear. You should’ve disappeared when Stardust… Case in point, you should’ve disappeared or maybe just had something to do with your Stardust and nothing like this at all.
Now, you’re here. Back where it all started. Back before you knew Stardust. Back before you even defeated the King. You’re really the Universe’s greatest cosmic joke! Wow! They must love you, teehee~!
You’re back. You’re back. You’re back you’re back you’re back you’re back you’re back you’re back you’re back you’re back you’re ba–
They must want an encore from you! So you must give it to them! You’ve done so well with your current role that they want you to do it again. One more time! Anything they want, they’ll force this actor to perform again and again! They’ll keep looping you if they have to after all.
You close your eyes.
If you were right with your assumption, the Housemaiden should be coming over in a moment.
What was her name?
Mirabelle, Mira.
You never forgot. You never forgot. You never forgot. You never for–
“Siffrin!” A voice calls out to you. Cue Mirabelle. The footsteps get louder. “Siffrin, are you here?”
Oxygen gets stuck in your throat. The meadow suffocates you. The prison you wished yourself out of, only to get back in again.
It’s fine.
No, it’s not fine.
You made a promise to Stardust, Siffrin, to talk to their family more. And… You’re Siffrin now. Not Loop. Not anyone else. (Despite that, you really don’t feel like a Siffrin anymore.)
You need to move. You need to make sure that the Housemaiden doesn’t worry about you more. More than you’re going to make her worry tonight.
Yet your limbs refuse to move, glued to the grass meadow. You can’t be here again. You don’t want to be here again anymore. You don’t think you could bear it. It’s too much to move any part of your body.
Her footsteps are too loud. Just sit up, Loop.
Sit up, Siffrin.
(Loop.)
“Oh! There you are, Siffrin!” The Housemaiden leans over you. The smile from her face melts away, replaced by concern. Her eyebrows cease. “Are you okay…?”
You open your mouth. Of course, it’s your face that says everything for you. You blink away the tears coming from your eye. You didn’t even need to say anything. Now, you’re not prepared to tell her anything to ease her worry.
The croissants haunt your dreams.
Lie.
You had a bad dream.
Lie.
Are you that pathetic that the only things you know how to say are lies? Are you that stupid? Is this entire personality a lie because you’re pretending to be Siffrin. You’re only a facsimile of what a Siffrin used to be. An actual Siffrin got their happy ending at this point. You’re left here with nothing.
“Do you want me to go?” The Housemaiden says, fiddling with the tear pendants on her cloak.
No.
No. You don’t want her to go.
You don’t want her to leave you alone.
You breathe in, and out.
In and out.
You fight with your words. You need to say something. “No, please,” you rasp out. Your hands reach for your throat. You could still feel Stardust’s hands there. Your voice sounds like it has gone through ages of unuse.
There’s a rustle of grass next to you. The Housemaiden is sitting there.
The birds and wind roar.
Every part of your body protests.
You need to. Say something. Anything.
You force yourself into a sitting position. You cross your legs and hunch over. You press your hand against your eye. To ground yourself. You heave and grip at your cloak. Your throat hurts. Talking hurts. Doing anything hurts.
You promised to talk. You will talk.
With one more breath, you sit up, folding your hands on your lap. (Your hands itch for the weight of your dagger.)
“...You want to have a sleepover tonight,” you say. You look anywhere but into the Housemaiden’s eyes.
She gasps. “Yes, I do! How did you know?”
You’ve been repeating these same two days over and over and over. Then you watched someone repeat these same two days over and over and over. That’s not something you say all of a sudden. You guess anything you say tonight will be all of a sudden.
You can’t let them know. You can’t afford to have them hate you. If they hate you–
You need to talk to them. (It’s your stupid wish that will force you to talk to them.)
You strain a smile. “I just know.”
“Do you want to have the sleepover tonight?” the Housemaiden says, tilting her head.
Yes and no.
You want to be with your family. You want to go on secret quests with the Researcher, make jokes with the Fighter, talk about stories with the Housemaiden, cook food with the Kid. These are memories you never want to forget, and you would rather keep making them instead of forcing them to stay with you over a silly wish.
Your wish that trapped you here because you just wanted to stay with them so badly! Teehee~
You’re stepping out of the script. But this role, you aren’t really the right person for this role anymore anyways.
“Siffrin?” the Housemaiden’s voice softens. “Is something wrong?”
Yes.
Everything is wrong.
You… don’t move. Ropes pin down every muscle in your body.
You breathe in and out.
Her name. What’s her name? What do you call her? What does Siffrin call her?
“Mira… Am I real?” You say.
Your eye widen.
WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?!
You pull your hat over your face. (You missed the anonymity this hat gives your face.) You can’t bear to see what expression the Housemaiden has. You profusely shake your head. “No, no, nevermind. Nevermind. It’s fine.”
In the corner of your vision, a hand approaches. But she might be too afraid to touch you. They think you’re adverse to touch. Isn’t that what Stardust’s party did too? Never giving them the time of day, thinking they know everything about them.
Isn’t that what they think of you too? It’s been so long since you’ve talked to these people. Months? Years? It was easier to forget what they all did. You never thought you’d come back here, and now everything feels so different. So new. You’re scared. (They’re going to be scared of you)
Warm hands cup your cheeks. There’s a spike of anxiety that tells you to jump back and move. Don’t let the Housemaiden know how disgusting you are.
You don’t have the energy to keep doing this.
You rest your head on her hands, and she tilts your head up so you can look at her. You cannot turn away, even if you didn’t want to. Her hands are calloused. You forgot how much work you all had to do to get this far, but it was so easy to forget. Despite the harsh conditions she went through, Mira was always so gentle and kind. Even now, she looks at you with gentle eyes. (She wouldn’t do that if she knew how disgusting you are.)
Her brow furrows and she adds a little bit more pressure to your cheeks before just holding you there. “You’re real, Siffrin. See?” She brushes her thumb against your cheek.
Your body shakes. Your vision is blurry.
Mirabelle looks around for a bit, and then there’s a stern look on her face. “I don’t think you’re telling me the truth.”
You’re not. (It’s fine.)
Mira says, “But! We’re, um, we’re friends, right? And if you ever need anything, I’m right here. We can talk! I don’t know what’s going on, and- and!”
You don’t have the energy to smile. It just feels empty. Mira’s too kind for someone like you.
“Are we having the sleepover tonight?” your voice croaks. Your voice sounds so weird in this form now. So foreign. Just like you are to the country of Vaugarde.
Mira widens her eyes at the sudden change. “Are you feeling up to it? We don’t have to do it. I don’t want you to force yourself either.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not!” Mira says.
You freeze. This never happened before.
“You can’t just keep saying it’s fine, when you’re clearly not fine!” She says.
What do you do? You can’t. You don’t want to loop back. You don’t have the energy to loop back.
She opens her mouth but then closes it. She looks straight at you. “Oh, Siffrin…”
What face are you making right now that she looks at you with so much pity?
You force your voice to come out. “I’ll say it tonight.”
“You… will?” Mira says.
“I promise,” you say.
“Okay! I’ll believe you! And you can’t get out of it, okay?” she says.
Mira’s hands are still on your cheeks. They’re very warm, but you can’t really get up or move from her. She may be gentle, but she certainly has some force.
“Um,” you say, pointing at her hands.
Mira gasps. “Sorry!” She pulls her hands away. (You miss the touch.) “I know you don’t like touch, um, I thought, well, um–”
“It’s fine.”
Mira bites her lips.
“No really. I, uh, needed that.” you say, rubbing your arm. “I don’t mind touch.”
“Good! Um!” She twiddles with his fingers. Then she jumps up. “WAIT! You don’t mind touch???”
You flinch.
“...We’ll deal with that one later.” She laughs sheepishly. “Do you want me to invite everyone else?”
“No, I can do it. I should do it,” you say. “You have some papers to look at, don’t you?” If you just leave a trail behind, maybe what you’re going to say later will hold some more significance.
“Huh?! How did you know?” Mira says. Her eyes seemed absolutely terrified.
The least tiring answer is to just shrug. Then you pull yourself to stand up only to stumble forward and fall onto Mirabelle who yelps. (You’re not used to being in the meadow anymore.) She grabs you with two hands and steadies you to sit up. She holds a confused expression.
“Are you sure you can do it? If you’re not feeling up to it, I can do it,” Mirabelle says, her hands on your shoulders.
You nod.
She purses her lips into a tight line before handing up and offering a hand to you.
You hold her hand and pull yourself up. You dust the dirt off your cloak. Despite how well it insolates for the harsh weather, you shiver. Your gaze meets hers. What does she see? A monster? A disgusting person who trapped them all her?
She holds your hand for a moment longer before letting go. “I’ll be in Dormont. Please! Don’t hesitate to talk to me, okay?” She furrows her eyebrows before turning around and walking away from the meadow. Her footsteps get quieter, but she turns around every so often.
As soon as she’s out of your vision, you plop back down onto the grass. You’re tired. You’re exhausted. How could you have this interaction with Mirabelle like this? How could you have forgotten her name already? Isn’t she family? Did you spend too much time being a star that these worldly needs no longer concern you?
You’re in a town-sized prison, and you’re not ready to see those familiar buildings that plague your every waking moment. You’ve never left the town, and you don’t think you can. You need to talk to everyone tonight. You’ve already broken once, and you still are. If you have to do it all over again, you might just fragment.
It’s not fine. It will never be fine. You started with Mirabelle. You just need to start talking to everyone else.
The grass blades stab into you. It’s uncomfortable. It might not be enough to cause you to bleed, but the blades of familiarity…
You stand up.
Get back on stage. Get back to work, Loop. Siffrin. Whoever you are anymore.
You walk past the clearing of trees, and familiar buildings greet you. (You do not smell sugar). All the citizens deal with their daily tasks as is. They don’t know they’re trapped in a time loop.
You enter the town, and suddenly every step you take feels like there's a weight strapped to your ankles. Like there’s an invisible line telling you that you’re stuck here once again when you thought you already destroyed yourself to get a different ending.
You trudge past the townsfolk and the huge Change God statue. There’s nothing to do there that concerns you. There’s only one thing you want to do.
Actually, there are two things, but you’re sure the party members wouldn’t want you to do that. Maybe they would. (You don’t really know them anymore.)
Mira sits on a bench. Her eyes locked into those papers that she switches between every so often. She’s lost in thought. It wouldn’t be hard to pass her. You don’t really feel like talking about your feelings or what happened earlier. You sneak by. You need to talk to someone else.
You creep into the shop in broad daylight. You don’t mean to camouflage, so you make sure that everyone can see you. (Mostly you don’t want the Researcher to accidentally have a heart attack seeing you. She’ll notice how much you have changed first. She always does. She’s that perceptive.)
“Re–” That is not her name. Instead you lean in towards the Researcher until she takes notice of you. She’s holding her book, poised to write as always. Another thing that the loops forced you to notice. Yet, why is it so hard for you to remember everyone’s names?
“Oh, Siffrin.” Whatever else she says seems to die on her tongue. Her expression shifts from haughty to something else. She raises one eyebrow before gesturing towards you. “I heard you were taking a nap. You don’t look at all that rested.”
That’s what you get for not bringing down your hat. Give it to the Researcher to pierce through your guise even in a different world.
“I… had a bad dream,” you say. But it wasn’t a dream at all. You’re not sure if it’s your reality either anymore.
“I see,” she says. Between you two, neither of you are well-versed in the emotional talks that the other members of your party enjoy doing. She presses her lips into a thin line. (Are you being too much for her?) “Well, I hope you know that I’m here to listen to you. Although there are other people much better for this type of topic.” Her eyes soften. It’s not a common expression that you see on her.
Is this what concern looks like on the Researcher? (You want to scratch yourself until you rip yourself to shreds.)
Your gloves prevent you from digging your nails into your arms. You bite your cheek then shrug. “It’s–” It’s not fine. It’s not fine. You need to speak up. Speak out. “I’ll tell you tonight, okay?”
She eyes you, examining every motion you do. You’re a specimen in front of a telescope. She sighs. “I suppose that’s how I’ll get my answer then.”
You nod. “And, uh, Mira wants to have a sleepover at the Clocktower tonight.”
“Isn’t that the same as–” her face drops looking at you.
What face are you making that makes the Researcher stop in her tracks? What horrifying expression do you have that is guilting her to doing things that she doesn’t want?
She averts her gaze for a moment then nods. “Yes, that will be alright.”
“I’ll see you later then,” you say, turning around.
“Take care, Siffrin,” the woman says.
Before you exit the door, you turn back around. Odile watches you with surprise. How could you have forgotten? You need to tell her. That’s what she was looking for her entire time in Vaugarde.
“Odile,” you say.
“Yes, Siffrin?” Odile says.
“The boulanger’s daughter has a familytale. I heard you were looking for one.”
Odile’s eyes widen. She’s sure she has never told any one of you what she was researching. But you knew. You knew. You knew.
You wave before she could start her next sentence. You’re much faster, so she would take a while catching up to you. Knowing her, she’s an inquisitive one. She would’ve kept you there asking you questions from sunrise to sunset. Honestly, that would be so much better than staying with just your thoughts.
The hustle and bustle of Dormont is static at this point. There’s nothing new happening. Nothing interesting. The only thing you want to do is let this all out of your chest. It’s that stupid wish that will force you to tell everyone that you don’t want to be alone.
You can’t stand being alone anymore.
Yet, look at you, making everyone wait for an invitation to a sleepover. Keeping them in suspense for the next act. You’re skipping through their bonding events, so now this family event won’t happen. They won’t think of you as a family. Mira won’t tell you what happened in those papers, Odile won’t tell you about her family, the Fighter won’t talk about himself, and the Kid will still hate you. They’ll only want to travel together.
It’s different. (Is it really?)
You make your way through town, finding your way towards the fields.
The Kid stands before a field filled to the brim with vegetables. They don’t turn to hear the footsteps you make. Stars, they must hate you in this timeline. They’ll always hate you for not being enough. But you need to invite them to the sleepover. It’s just fair.
A heavy stone settles in the bottom of your stomach.
(But it’s not a tug. You cannot afford for it to be a tug.)
It’s similar to what Stardust feels when they talk to the Kid every so often. It was something to do with the King, and you told him so. They wouldn’t listen. You have an idea what the King did, but you turn a blind eye to it. It has never happened to this Kid. You have never seen it happen to them.
The Kid crosses their arms over their chest. “Hey, frin.”
They hate you. They hate you. They hate you. They hate everything you do. Everything you are. They’ll hate how much of a monster you’ve become.
You take a breath in, and out.
The Kid frowns. You’ve made them upset!!!
“Hey, um,” you say. You should’ve said their name at this point. But what is their name? It’s on the tip of your tongue. You can’t. You can’t remember. Why does it take too long to remember who your party is?
“What’s up?” they say.
This is the worst chat you’ve had with a preteen in so long! Wouldn’t it be easier to be a star and just have them chatty and ask about the frivolous things you are. You don’t remember how to talk to them anymore. This is terrible!
“How do you feel about a sleepover tonight?” you say, gripping underneath your cloak.
“...Sound stupid,” they say, puffing out their cheeks.
“Mira suggested it,” you say.
The Kid smiles. “Oh you should’ve said so in the first place!”
Even now, even with the script in your hands, you’re tearing everything apart in small places, but everything feels the same. It hurts your chest. This child doesn’t like you. You don’t know how to regulate your emotions.
The Kid’s expression falters. “Frin?”
“It’s fine, Bonnie,” you say. “I’ll see you tonight, then.” Just… get this conversation over with. (The less you’re with this kid. the better). Wait, did you just say their name?
You don’t see the Kid’s face when you turn around. “Okay,” they say, “but you better tell me if there’s anything wrong!!!”
You stop in your tracks.
“You’re not acting normal! I saw Belle worried a bit earlier after she found you! And, and, and! ”
Ah, you’ve forgotten how observant the Kid was. Is. Whatever. With how long you’ve been in these loops, the Kid would’ve probably become a Teenager at some point. But that has never happened to you.
You turn around and plaster a smile. “Sure, Bonbon.”
Whatever expression was on their face fades away, and they… look afraid. (You’re a monster. Everyone’s becoming afraid of you. Look what you have done.) No, no no nonononononononon, you Cannot have the Kid be afraid of you. You cannot have them–
“Frin, do you want a snack?” Bonnie pulls a bar of chocolate from their pockets.
They had something else to eat. Before you realize it, you’re nodding your head. You want something new. Need something new from this monotony.
Bonnie hands you the chocolate, and you take a bite from it. It’s sweet! But it’s not overwhelmingly sweet. There’s a slight bitterness to it, but the texture itself is smooth and doesn’t get stuck to your throat.
Oh, you already finished it.
The Kid has a lopsided smile and huffs with pride.
“Thank you,” you say, finally finding your words.
“Now, don’t be a crab and let us know if you need anything!” they huff.
You nod.
You shouldn’t do this. You don’t need to do this. You don’t need to worry about talking about anything to them. They won’t know this. They had the experience of going up to the King You don’t. You really don’t.
You crouch down a bit to get to Bonnie’s height.
“Bonnie.”
They blink.
“I know you want to learn how to fight.”
The kid opens their mouth, but you need to keep talking. You need to get it off your chest.
“And you’re doing great. You’re snack leader and what not, but know, we’re going to keep protecting you. You’re our first priority,” you say.
Bonnie pouts. “But! I’m grown up now! I can protect myself!”
You place your hand on your eyepatch and keep it there. Bonnie shuffles their feet. You keep looking at them, hoping they’ll make eye contact. “We’ll always protect you. I’ll… do whatever to protect you.”
“But!” Bonnie stomps their foot. “What if I don’t want you to be hurt!? You don’t seem to care that you got hurt.”
You breathe in and out.
You’re not anywhere close to any sadnesses. Within the town’s boundaries, there are guards protecting them. This isn’t the same scene Stardust would repeat over and over and over again. You don’t have to worry about the damages from those enemies, but Bonnie… Bonnie’s gripping at their shirt.
You reach out, then retract your hand.
“I don’t want you to be hurt! If! You let that sadness get me–”
“But I don’t want that!” you say. You pause.
Bonnie jumps back. Your breathing becomes haphazard. You press your hand against your chest. You breathe in. And out.
“I… sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled, butI will never allow that to happen,” you say. “I know…” (do you?) “I know you hate when we call you a kid, but you are. If we were to get hurt, we’d always make sure you wouldn’t.”
“If you just let me… you wouldn’t have lost your eye!” Bonnie says. Their eyes fill with tears, and their hands ball into tight fists. “You can’t see through your CRABBING eye because of me!”
“I wouldn’t have changed my choice,” you say. “I’ll do it again too. We can’t… What do we tell your sister if we let you die? You’re so important to all of us, Bonnie.” The words flow from your mouth. This is your Kid. This is your Bonnie. You would do anything for them. Anything. Anything for this party. You finally got them back.
Bonnie lets out a cry. They start wiping their eyes. Whatever they say doesn’t reach your ears. You’re not even sure if they’re saying anything else at this point. You stand there. You don’t know what to say anymore. This is beyond what you’ve done for your usual script.
Yet there’s a vague memory of something a long time ago.
“Hey, Bonbon, look at me?” you say.
The kid turns to you with teary eyes. They haven’t told you they hate you. They don’t hate you. Their chest heaving. They’re just trying to get through these complicated emotions.
“Breathe with me?” You rest your hand on your chest and wait until Bonnie copies the motion.
Then you take a big breath in.
And out.
In.
And out.
In and out.
You repeat it a couple more times until Bonnie looks a little more calm.
“Are you okay?” you say.
Bonnie's shoulders shake. They shake their head. “ I don’t understand. Why?” They make eye contact with you. “Why?”
Because you’re family.
You can’t say that. You haven’t been able to hang out with any of them for loops at a time. It’s been too long. It’s been so long.
You just slouch and pull your hat down. “Because you have so much ahead of you. And given the opportunity, I want you to have that.” And if you need to take down the entire world and beat up the King again. You would do it.
You just can’t do anymore looping.
“Frin, are you okay?” Bonnie said.
You open your mouth. (Never better!) Those words never leave your mouth. You look at Bonnie. You don’t know what they see, but they look so concerned. They don’t seem afraid. (If they’re afraid of you, then what could you do?) Instead you shake your head.
“Do you wanna talk about it? Nille always says you should talk about your problems.”
Bonnie should never have to hear about your problems.
“Have you heard of forever school?” you say.
“Huh?! That sounds stupid! Don’t change the subject, you crab!!”
You chuckle.
“Well, um, I have to go, now,” you say. At least, you need to go before you do anything blinding dumb in front of the child. You avert your gaze.
“Um, frin, do you hate touch? Mira and Za said you don’t like being touched. But you never really said anything about it,” Bonnie said.
“I don’t,” you say. Then you turn heel. That conversation could’ve gone a lot better, and maybe you should’ve talked a little more. Maybe you should’ve explained more, but you can’t. You can’t. You have one more person to talk to. Every single time you talk to someone, it takes so much out of you.
You pass by the housemaiden and the researcher while they are doing their own separate things. They may have waved at you as you passed by. You don’t notice if they did or not.
They have to know something is amiss with you.
Maybe they realize that you’re no longer Siffrin. The moment you came back. The Siffrin they knew is gone and dead. You wished him out of existence. No more. You’re just Loop.
Or some other name you’d like or don’t remember.
Right now, you just need to talk to one more person. The Fighter. The person you realized you loved more than just family when it was too late.
He’s usually at the Favor Tree, and if he’s not there, he’s at the bench overlooking the House of Change.
The Fighter has his eyes closed and hands close to his chest. He looks so at peace here. Lost in his thoughts. Looks like you’re going to be shattering that peace very very soon anyways.
What was his name again?
You don’t remember his name, so you kind of stand there awkwardly until he takes notice of you.
He has a slight expression of surprise before he smiles. “Hey, Sif, didn’t see you there.”
You wave. It probably would have been less awkward if you remembered his name.
“So what brings you here?” The Fighter says.
You glance over at the tree in the distance.
“Oh? The Favor Tree, are you going to wish for something?” he says.
You shake your head. You had enough of wishing for a whole lifetime. Now that you finally know what brought you into this mess in the first place.
He rests his hand under his chin as if lost in thought. Then his gaze lands on you. “Did you get enough rest earlier? Mira said you weren’t looking so well.”
Well, now, how do you describe what you’re feeling from everything that is happening. And now they’re talking behind your back because you don’t have any semblance of self-awareness~ You try saying something, but it gets lodged in your throat. You press your palm against your chest and try again.
Nothing.
Wow! The Universe really said no more talking to the person you loved so much! Not that he would forget all the other times it would happen! (Please. If you loop one more time, you don’t know if you could take it.) Really! This could just be another false puppet, a pale carbon copy of your loved one.
The words never leave your mouth. You can’t find the words. Perhaps you spent too much energy talking to rest of the party. Perhaps you don’t even know what words to tell him anymore.
“...Sif! Sif!!!”
You jump back. You forgot that Sif is also your nickname.
The Fighter rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah… Mira was right… Sif, are you doing okay?” His eyes are so kind, so gentle.
So concerned for a monster that you are.
But since words are failing you, you bring out your hand to do a thumbs up.
That you never do. Your hands shake too much.
Instead you pull your hat down and shake your head. Seems like it’s the only thing anymore. (You’re exhausted.)
The Fighter doesn’t say anything, but in the corner of your vision, you see a hand come down. A long time ago, you wouldn’t know what this meant, but Stardust figured it out. You did too in turn. You want it. You want the touch. You crave the idea that you are real, that you aren’t just a star. That you aren’t a nobody.
You wrench your hands away from your sides and grab onto Isabeau’s hand as if it’s your lifeline.
Isa jumps but doesn’t pull away. There’s a flicker of surprise, then maybe the next expression he has is determination. He places his other hand on top of yours and gently squeezes.
Stars, you’re so disgusting for wanting all of this. For him to finally notice you like this. His hands are big, warm, and sweaty, but you wouldn’t be trading anything for this.
“Crab, Sif, you’re shaking,” he says. His eyes pry into you, but there’s so much concern. You’ve worried him too much, and you want to pull away, but you can’t. You don’t want to.
Stars. What a monster you are.
You shove down the self-deprecating laughter bubbling in your throat.
He holds your hands. “Look, I don’t know what you’re going through right now, but just know, we’re always here for you, alright. I’m always here for you.” He coughs. “Well, you don’t have to always talk to me. You can talk to Mira or M’dame Odile or just– I don’t know, but we’ll listen to you.”
The sides of your lips tilt upward and words finally leave your mouth. “Thanks, Isa.”
“Oh, um.” His cheeks darken, and he brings his shoulders up to his ears. “It’s nothing, Sif. I’ll always be there for you.”
You smile. “I’m so glad I know you.”
His eyes stare at you like a deer.
“And, um, no matter how you change, if you ever decide to, I’ll always support you. We’ll always support you.”
“Wow, Sif, where’d this come from?” Isa’s gaze doesn’t meet yours.
You shrug. You don’t know. “But it’s true,” you say.
“Thanks, Sif.”
The both of you awkwardly stand hand in hand near the Favor Tree. You’re not sure what came over you, and now, you kind of want to curl up in a hole and everything, but–
“Don’t forget, Sif, you can come to any of us, okay?” Isa says, breaking the silence.
You nod. “Clocktower tonight? I’ll, um, talk to everyone.”
Isa raises an eyebrow.
“Promise.”
“Alright, bud.”
You both continue holding hands until you remember.
“Um,” you say, “I need to do something at the Favor Tree”
“Oh! Sorry,” Isa says, then he pulls his hands away. Your hands feel so cold. “I’ll see you at the Clocktower tonight!”
You wave as Isa walks off. The whole atmosphere becomes quieter. The wind rushes in your ears, and it only makes you feel colder.
You step in front of the Favor Tree. There was no one there. Of course, you were the only one there for Stardust. Maybe the Universe wanted to teach you that if Stardust could talk to their family, so could you. By helping yourself, you could help yourself (That sounded more confusing than it should have).
There’s no one to call you stardust. There’s no one who wants to help you right now. You’re the Universe’s cosmic joke that it will keep laughing and laughing at you. You’re so disgusting that no one ever wanted to wish to help you after all. There’s no star called Loop to help a person named Siffrin. No Northern Star to guide you.
You rifle through your pockets to find one thing that followed you throughout your entire journey. Between your fingers is a silver coin, normal Vaugardian currency. There’s nothing special about it. No nicks in its edges so something that makes it unique for the rest. It’s just a regular silver coin. That should be yours.
It’s not yours.
You position the coin between your pointer and thumb and flip it into the tree with a bright chiming noise. You wish you– There’s a faint scent of sugar. Your stomach churns. But it disappears as quickly as it appears. You don’t wish anymore. You want someone to help you, and all you have is yourself.
No one catches your coin from the trees. There’s a slight swish as it goes back down. You catch the coin with your hands, covering the final result. You didn’t make a guess as to what face it will land on. Maybe heads. Maybe something that Odile wanted to win with.
You remove your top palm. Heads. When did a piece of paper get in there???
Pocketing the coin, you examine the piece of paper. It’s folded throughout the paper. If you remember correctly, it seems to be an unfolded paper crane. Though it’s the handwriting that stands out to you.
“You super duper promised!!! We’ll see each other again. And I promise I’ll help you this time. Somehow. Somewhere!!!”
It’s in your handwriting.
No, you’d never write something like this for yourself. This is your Stardust’s handwriting. It’s the same as yours, but you’ve probably haven’t written anything for a while. After all, anything you write will disappear after a loop.
But this has to be the final loop. You’re finally talking to everyone! This has to be it! Or else! Or else…
You fold the paper and pocket it. Then you reach out to the tree. In a different country, you’d call this tree something else. There’s a different type of familiarity to it.
A leaf falls onto your hand. It’s a sturdy leaf coming from the Favor Tree. Normally, these would be a lot rounder, curved up at the sides. Where you are from, these Favor Trees would grant wishes. Wishers would choose a leaf that resembled them the most then whisper their wish into it as many times for as much as they wanted their wish to come true.
The leaf on your hand isn’t as round as the rest of the leaves, many bugs bit into it to make it spikey on the sides. It’s different from everything else and seems like it has been through a lot. It has seen a lot of things.
It reminds you of a star.
It reminds you of you.
You didn’t choose this leaf.
It chose you.
You crush the leaf in your gloved hand. And it’s not enough. You rip and tear the leaf until it’s tatters at your feet. The wind blows them away as if they are insignificant. You don’t want to wish. You refuse to wish.
You can kill the King and save Vaugarde tomorrow. You’ve technically done it before. You can do it again. One last time. You don’t have to wish for it. You’ve seen it happen.
There’s nothing else you can do in the town right now. Isa, Odile, Bonnie, and Mira all are doing things to prepare for the day tomorrow. You could be doing anything at this point. You just don’t want to touch your dagger (You know the right angle to thrust your blade into your n–). You also really don’t want to talk to anyone until you’re ready.
So for old times’ sake, you sit on one of the lower branches of the Favor Tree. The last time you were here was when you last saw Stardust. (Then you almost killed them because you wanted to be with the carbon copies of your party.)
But you have your party now! Your family! Isn’t this what you wanted?! A family that doesn’t remember all the times. All the sacrifices and pain you’ve gone through. They won’t know. They’ll never know.
And unlike your Stardust, you don’t have anyone else to talk to about any of this. Your party won’t remember what you say. And you don’t have a guiding star to light your path, even if they would be so infuriating to work with.
You don’t know what to do.
You crumple the piece of paper in your pocket. Yeah, Stardust isn’t even here to help you. They should’ve killed you when they had the chance. At least then you wouldn’t have to deal with the fact you’ve become such a subpar human being, akin to a monster.
It’s not really fair, is it?
That you have to do it all over again.
You can wish yourself out of existence. You’ve done it once.
You
can
do
it
again.
(And again.)
You can’t.
Not again.
You smooth out the crumpled piece of paper. Your eye trailing over the words. Your Stardust has always been so sweet. They never had their life pulled forcefully away from them.
But.
If they can have their happy ending, so can you. Isn’t that what this message is all about? Isn’t this what you’ve been striving for all this time.
Wish Craft would give you the means to make a wish come true, but it doesn’t mean a wish will come true. That’s different. And this is something you can work off with.
You’re better than Stardust. (You’re not. You’re really not.) You will make this work. Because if you can’t you might as well destroy yourself in the process of doing it again. You’ve done it once.
Looking up, the night sky greets you. You didn’t realize how long you’ve been sitting at this tree for. Maybe talking to the rest of the party took so much time, that it’s hard to tell how much time has passed.
It’s hard to say how much the sky has changed since coming here. Maybe it never changed in the first place, and that would not be surprising. The thing that did change is how much you remember them. You could reach up to the stars, begging them to take you back.
But you’re not a star anymore. You’re… you don’t know who you are anymore.
Just follow the script. You already tore it into shreds, but it’s something to cling unto while you can.
If you’re following parts of the script, then you should be going to the Clocktower at this time. You’re never at the Favor Tree for this long in the day, but you’re at a standstill for what else you can do.
So you leave the tree and walk about into town. The night sky as your own companion.
The town is so quiet at night. You’ve forgotten how peaceful it could be, except with your heart thundering in your chest. Sometimes it was nice to not have a heart like this.
But it forces you to speed through the town and find yourself in front of the Clocktower.
You don’t want to be here.
The Clocktower’s presence has never been this foreboding. You rest your hand on the knob. It’s so different now, but it’s the only way to progress, isn’t it? You need to talk with them, don’t you?
Their names.
What are their names again???
What if you strike up a conversation with them, and you don’t remember what to call them anymore.
How could you have already forgotten?! It hasn’t been that long ago?!
What are their names?!
Then as if something echoes in the back of your mind,
“Mirabelle, Odile, Isabeau, and Bonnie, that’s your family.”
You breathe.
In and out.
(The way someone taught you a long time ago.)
“Those are their names.”
You can talk to them. You have to.
You take a deep breath again and enter the Clocktower. It’s the same darkness with dim lights surrounding. There are hushed voices talking.
You rest your hand on the doorframe to the next room (you’re really taking after Stardust here). You’ve never messed with the script this much. You’re not sure what they’re going to do next. Maybe they’re going to kick you out because you couldn’t do anything.
At this point, you should lean into the fact that you’re not Siffrin anymore. As Vaugardians say, you’ve Changed. The one with the capital C, and not of your own volition.
Despite the tense atmosphere, there’s a scent of fresh foods. All the food out and ready for all of you to eat together. But there’s no crunch of food, only the hushed whispers. If they really wanted to talk behind your back, then they should’ve just told you never come into the Clocktower.
You step into the light to greet the rest of your party.