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“So, uh, you still have it? After that moon mess?”
The incredulous look on Daisy’s face - narrowed eyes and her lips pulled tight in a frown - elicits a chuckle from Peach. It’s an understandable reaction. After rejecting a marriage proposal, keeping the engagement ring for yourself is unlikely. But as they returned home, miraculously, the ring was in one piece in the castle courtyard of Peach’s castle, having plummeted like a fallen star. Bowser had already dragged himself home, tail between his legs, and Peach was left to decide how to repurpose such a massive ring.
It isn’t in its pristine prime. Crashing through the atmosphere had partially melted its interior. The intricate, carved details on the setting and prongs maintaining the unmarred diamond are nonexistent. But the ring is still, most shockingly, round and large, and it can fit around her waist like a confining belt, making it hardly a practical decoration or accessory.
Daisy gestures at the ring, which is currently hanging off the marble star statue in the quaint pool. Peach didn’t know where to place it, so she asked the Toads to decide. They had tossed the ring over the star and called it a day, adding a pleasant pop of color to the sleek, gray hues. The gold band and diamond glitter under the sunlight, but Peach will admit it appears starkly improper and contrasts with the rest of the courtyard.
“I know it doesn’t fit in with the decor,” she says, “but I couldn’t let such a pretty ring go to waste. I just wish I knew what to do with it or where to keep it.”
Daisy hums, cocking her hip as she cups her chin. Her exaggerated monotone stretches to fill the garden, the hovering Boos casting wary glances until she snaps her fingers. She lifts her dress and marches to the edge of the pool, whipping her gloved hand at the diamond.
“Well, if you don’t have a clue, then I do. You let me borrow it!” Daisy hitches her thumb at her chest. “And I’ll bring it back better than ever!”
Her exclamation startles the butterflies and birds. As they scatter, Daisy lunges across the water, her heels clicking against the inscription. She catches the point of the star and steadies herself, flashing an award-winning smile at Peach.
“What do you say?” Her sing-song is punctuated by raised eyebrows.
Peach giggles behind her hand. It sounds better than any other prospect. The Toads had their fun with the ring, but she trusts in Daisy’s judgment. Nodding, she smiles as Daisy pumps her fist in the air, pivoting on her heels around the podium.
“But I gotta figure out how I’m gonna lug this thing back to my castle,” Daisy wonders, scratching her head, but she just as quickly snaps her fingers. “A warp pipe! Bingo! Mind helping me carry it over to the nearest one? I can handle the rest once we get inside.”
Peach agrees with a soft laugh, floating over the water to reach Daisy, and beginning the quick process of carrying the ring on their shared shoulders.
Peach hasn’t heard from Daisy in quite a few days. Whether by phone, letter, or an in-person visit. Daisy has adhered to radio silence. Since bringing Bowser’s ring to Sarasaland, Daisy seems to be in a world of her own, ignoring requests for golf or brunch. Her royal advisors reassure Peach that Daisy is fine and working on a “personal project.”
It’s that very reason inspiring concern in Peach. The ring, by her own examination, hadn’t had any power. It’s as ordinary and lovely as the last, with a diamond the size of her head. But for the longevity Daisy now spent alone, seemingly with the ring that had tried binding her to Bowser, Peach embarks on her own spontaneous visit.
She raps three times on the massive double doors. Folding her hands in front of her waist, she glances at the sky. Sunlight filters through the rare clouds. Sarasaland is always hot year-round, exemplified by the twinkling, warm sand surrounding Daisy’s castle, and the shady reprieve is pleasant as Peach rolls her shoulders, taking in the rolling dunes cresting the horizon.
The doors crack open. Peach turns, lacing her fingers, only to be yanked inside. Her yelp is stifled as her heels hit the carpeted floor. She stumbles forward, and the yellow outline of Daisy’s dress catches her attention as she’s spun around. The shapes of windows and marble busts pass her, but she reorients herself, the dizzy spell worse than an abrupt transformation.
Shaking her head, Peach holds her cheek. The interior shifts, then settles, the burnt orange carpet grounding her. And holding herself with the poise worthy of her royal status, Peach does not find it amusing to be hauled around without warning.
But Daisy cracks a smile, hiding one arm behind her back. She’s as boisterous as ever as she declares, “Yooo, Peach! You have stellar timing.”
She’s about to remind her that she rather dislikes being grabbed when Daisy thrusts her hand out. She presents a wiggling fist. Then, she turns over her palm and extends each individual finger.
Peach gasps. Daisy beams.
It’s the ring. Rather, what it’s become. The band is far smaller and stretched out to fit around Peach’s neck. The diamond, too, is shrunk but retains every bit of its beauty. It’s nestled in the center, perfectly secure as Daisy flounces behind Peach’s back.
“A choker,” Peach muses, feeling the cool metal press into her neck. As the tiny link lock is secured, she touches the diamond, and not a single crack grazes her finger.
Daisy whirls out in front of her, marveling at her design. “I gotta say, I do good work. Forcing Kamek to shrink it down was the hard part. Then, I just worked my own blacksmith magic. What do you think?”
More than grateful for the gift, she cannot find the right words. Peach embraces Daisy, delighted that a sour memory can be repurposed as a symbol of their bond. And when Daisy sweeps her off her feet, this time, she can’t find a care in being twirled.