Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Of course I've been counting. What else do you expect me to be doing?” they giggled, waving a hand. “You're not the only one in these loops, stardust, that's the whole point of me being here, remember?”

But that's not…
     > “That doesn't seem right to me.”

“What, me being here, or the number?”

     > “The number. What loop did you say I'm on?”

They roll their eyes at that, laughing again. “Do you need me to remind you of everything? We know you're forgetful, but-...” They cut off their sentence as they look at you, and their teasing demeanor seems to fade. What kind of look is on your face that made them stop, you wonder. “...Fifty-two. You're on loop fifty-two.”

You feel nauseous.
     > “...I thought it was…fifty?”

You watch them shake their head, idly tapping their fingers on their knees. “Nope. This is loop fifty-two. I have nothing better to do than count, so I know that's right.” You remain silent, nervously tugging on the ends of your gloves. They notice you fidgeting - how could they not? It's not like you're trying to hide at this point. “Your last two loops went poorly. Are you just not counting those because of that?”

Huh? Went poorly?
     > “What do you mean?”

They laugh again. You wish they'd stop doing that. “You hardly did a thing, stardust! You just aimlessly wandered around Dormont and didn't even make it to the clocktower! I was under the impression that you were trying to get your little party members to notice something, but you didn't respond to any of them!”

…You don't remember any of this.

Your hands are shaking.
     > “I don't remember that.”

“No wonder you're forgetting loops, then. You're letting your exhaustion get to you, stardust! I even thought this loop was gonna end up being similar with the way you hobbled in here!” They brought their hand to their face as they giggled. “You made your poor Housemaiden worry about you again! Are you really going to perform this badly every time you lose just a little too much sleep?”

…House…maiden?

You blink, and…you can feel your face become pale. You're so lightheaded, they can probably see you swaying.
     > “... who?”

“. . .”

Finally, they stop laughing.

“...Oh.”

They turn away from you for just a second. Something in their mismatched eyes almost looks…guilty? That doesn't sound like the right word, but it's all you can come up with right now. That's all you can feel right now. “Your Housemaiden? Your sweet, positive lady of Change? She woke you up in the meadow this loop. She spoke to you again before you arrived here. Do you know who I'm talking about…? Do you know her name?”

. . .

Your breathing picks up. You want to throw up.

“Her name, stardust, what is her name. It starts with an M. It's like a certain fruit? A certain plum?”

You're going to throw up. You feel bile rise in your throat as you try to get this stranger's name out, but all that comes out is what little food you had in your stomach. You barely manage to turn away from Loop as you spill out your insides onto the grass behind the root you sat on.

Her name. Her name. What is her name. Why can't you remember her name.

Why can't you remember. She's with you every loop. She's the first you speak to every loop. You greet her by name every loop.

Every. Single. Loop.

Who is she what is her name you need to remember her name why can't you remember her name what is her name what is her blinding name!!!

“...Stardust, it’s—”

You feel a violent tug on your stomach.

You taste iron as you yell.
     > “Mirabelle—!!”

You gasp, heave—

and the Universe brings you back a few seconds- back to your seat, stomach full, head spinning- back before your pathetic little meltdown.

You blink.

…You don't feel nauseous anymore.

“. . .”

Loop only looks at you, that disgusting pity in their stare. You don't meet their gaze.

They don't say a word. Neither do you. You don't think either of you know what to say, what to do.

You slowly reach up and wipe the blood from your chin, harshly swallowing the rest that built up on your tongue before any more of it can roll off your lip and drip on your cloak. You're once again thankful for the lightlessness of your gloves. Nothing will stain that way.

You hate the taste of iron. Oh well.

You breathe in…
     > “Mirabelle. Isabeau.”

…and out.
     > “Odile. Bonnie.”

Their names…roll off your tongue…as easily as breathing.

You swallow the remaining iron.

You glance up again. Loop is still looking at you. They look like they want to say something, but…they remain silent. You don't give them the chance to change their mind and speak up, suddenly standing up and brushing off your cloak.

Back to the stage.

With a weak, awkward wave, you leave your spot under the Favor Tree. Loop doesn't wave back for once. You almost laugh, but this tragic show isn't meant to be a comedy.

Fifty-two… Fifty-two…

…You should talk to Mirabelle.