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"I'll leave it all," she promises. She promises and she knows it, the second the words leave her mouth, she knows she'll never regret anything more. Maybe she won't even remember this to regret it, Beau thinks as the hag's toothy grin stretches, and keeps stretching.
Long, twisted fingers reach out for her face and Beau has to resist the urge to gag, to flinch or lean away. Resists the urge to spit at the creature's feet and curse it all to Hell. But she resists. She sits achingly still as coarse fingertips drag across her cheek, her chin, her neck.
That's all she remembers, in the end. All that's left of some fantastical past life, lost to the winds and the croaking and the howling of the forest. Maybe, in the end, it was just a dream. Just like the rest.
Beauregard.
She knows that. Her name, and her dreams.
The unexplainable emptiness that reaches from her fingers to her nose. She feels it in her hands, her ragged blue coat, the stretch of her muscles.
If anyone asked, she would be unable to speak it aloud. But it's there.
It's there in her dreams - memories? fantasies? It's easier to call them dreams. Her dreams of a time that's so wonderful; a sibling, a found family so perfect, they can be nothing more than a fantasy. A life of adventure; freedom; respect; love. So full and welcoming that she almost misses it. But how can she? It's just a dream.
So she spends her days following a dream that is impossible, like reaching for the clouds and thinking that, just because you want it so badly, you deserve to touch them. That maybe one day you'll get just a taste and it'll be enough.
Chasing, and chasing, and reaching.
Then one day, she does chase it. Not in the clouds, but in the streets.
When she catches a sign that is worded a little too rudely; a shelf in a store arranged oddly, a flash of a blue tail around a corner… Memories, hopes, and love comes pouring in. She's intoxicated. So she follows.
Around the corner and down alleys, calling out.
"Can you help me find what I'm looking for?"
Another corner.
"I think you know what I'm missing!"
Dodging through the crowds.
"I think you can take me there! I think it's you. I think, I think, I think... I know."
.
Jester Lavorre knows the rules, and she follows them.
Even if the rules are stupid.
Even if the rules are so closely tied, entwining a life and misery into one fine thread. That same thread keeps a heart beating; a mind from breaking. But that doesn't mean it's not hard.
There are days, weeks, months even, when she's tempted so strongly to break just one rule, she has to lock herself away. It's foolish, she tells herself. But of course, she knows that. So instead she watches.
Jester is very good at hiding. She's been doing it since she was a kid, she has. It's one of her many talents. But hiding from Beau is hardest of all.
She has to keep herself from staring for too long. Beau's piercing eyes, always so keen and awake, never do more than graze her own. Blue meets purple, then green, then brown, and onward.
Always onward.
Now, Jester may be very good at hiding. But Beau is very good at seeing. Very good at seeing her.
Close calls? Too many to count. A glance held too long; a whisper too loud; a brush too heavy. A prank too obvious. Jester always gets away in time. Until she doesn't.
"I think… I know."
All her senses are screaming at her to run. She can't afford to be caught. Even if she wants to, so, so badly. To be caught in those eyes of lapis.
So she stops.
Silence.
She turns, as Beau takes another step forward, and keeps her eyes firmly on the ground, at the feet of the woman she loves.
"You…"
Less than a breath, but she hears it. She always will.
Another step.
"Please… I just want to know what happened to me. Why I see so much in everything. Why I see you."
Jester breaks, and maybe she'll wish she hadn't tomorrow, or the day after. But right now it's all she can do.
She risks a step forward. Then another. Before she can stop, she's flinging herself into Beau's arms. Except Beau doesn't welcome her, or bury her face into Jester's neck like she once did. She just stands there, arms loosely by her side.
"Beau…" She whispers, and it's all she can manage before she's crying. Only now does Beau wrap her arms around her shoulders. But it's not the same.
"I don't understand," Beau whispers back. Her voice shakes with emotion from some past life, screaming a message neither of them can hear.
"I know."
Jester pulls away, looking deep into Beau's unseeing eyes. She sees, but not enough. Her blue hand cups Beau's face, and she takes just a second to appreciate this. Even if Beau doesn't understand.
Jester is, briefly, grateful for Beau's loose grip on her. It makes it easier for her to slip away, to run and vanish before Beau really registers the movement.
She vanishes, into a doorway that had not been there before, and was no longer there after.
And all Beau can do is stare.
.
Months pass. Maybe years. Beau is numb to it all. Wandering the same streets, passing the same people. Dragged through a life barely reminiscent of what feels right.
What feels right?
Beau isn't even sure anymore.
The blue tiefling, arms and cheek cool with tears so warm, pressed against her. Holding her. That felt right.
Beau isn't even sure that wasn't just a dream too.
Months pass.
The haze that once clouded her mind fades. One morning, after the best night of sleep she's had in her life. She doesn't think much of it- the emptiness is still there. The world is much clearer now.
Hours pass.
There is a flash of blue in the crowd. A sweet scent of cinnamon and fresh bread. Beau pauses in her daily- weekly- monthly walk.
A splash of green against a wall that's not meant to be there.
And she follows.
.
Getting Beau to follow her isn't difficult. It never had been. Even before she needed her to, Beau was there. Following her like she were a god.
Beau is silent as she follows, jogging only to keep up with the glimpse of green around every corner. It isn't until Jester bursts from the oppressive buildings and into the fields that she hears Beau speak.
"Wait!"
And she does. She stops, waiting for Beau to get close before turning and taking both her hands. She would wait for her anywhere.
"Why?"
Jester blinks at the question. Of all the things she thought Beau would ask, that one made the bottom of the list.
"Why come back?"
Ah.
"Beau… Do you remember me?"
Deep blue eyes stared back, unblinking. Jester watches as recognition flickers behind those pupils.
"I think… In my dreams. A life I lived, once. I've seen you, your face."
Jester can't help but laugh at that. Bubbly, wet laughter that has to be choked back. And this time she knew she wouldn't regret breaking.
Jester falls forward, wrapping Beau tight, welcomed by her warmth. Limbs slotted perfectly, heads resting like they've been there their whole lives.
"Yeah," Jester whispers through the tears. "Something like that."
Beau doesn't question her, only takes her in. She knows, in this moment, this is all she has to do.
And for the first time, she was touching the clouds.
Jester leans back, only slightly. Far enough that she can see Beau's eyes, and the spark of understanding. In this moment, her mind flashes to the images of that night's events.
Flashing spells, blood spilled. A lifeless hag's body by a cold fireplace. A family waiting for her- for their return.
"I have so much to tell you."
Beau takes her hand again, closing her eyes
"I know."
And she follows.