Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You’re in a boat, it’s a simple boat, nothing too exciting about it. It’s been in your family for a few generations, you think a great-great grandmother made it, or something. It’s a hazy memory. But it’s sturdy, you’ve taken a few trips on it with your mother now. You head to Poteria sometimes to restock for the shop. But today the boat is all yours! And it’s safe to say that you are not using it as intended.

You’re tied to a dock, laying back. You’ve set a few blankets and choice pillows up, the boat is pretty much a glorified hammock. But what a good hammock it is! The waves are rocking the boat, ever so slightly. Gently, like your mother used to. It’s a bit hard to remember now, which you find funny. But she definitely used to cradle you, just like the waves do now. Soothing back and forth, back and forth. It’s a bosom, a bassinet. It’s holding you tightly.

You look up at the mountains, the observatory. This is your home, you take a second to try and memorize every detail in front of you. The lightless sand on the beach, the cascading hills and domineering trees. Your eyes follow the stone path carved up the nearest mountain, you’ve walked up that dreaded flight far too many times.

Your eyes pan farther up, the sky. It’s not quite dark enough for a whole picture, but you can see the brightest of them. You go through your mental list of constellations, you should have this season memorized.

Estherian, the Archer,
Sondrian, the Harper,
Mirathi, the Mother,
Quezselai, the Beast,
Chioen, the Winter.

You could see more in a different season, or upon a revisit to the observatory. But these are the constellations you see now. You let their names slide off your tongue, into the wind, dropping into the water below you. Raindrops, from your mouth into the sea. Escaping you, out into the world. Say them again, putting emphasis on Quezselai, you hold it, roll it in your mouth.

The name.

The Beast.

It drops like a stone into the water, a weight builds in you as you say her name.

You look up at the jumble of stars, Quezselais hands take up the sky. You’ve seen them in your star charts enough, now it’s real. You can make out the connections between the stars, her hands are always here.

Every time you look up, except for the safety of winter nights, there are hands clawing into the sky, reaching for prey, something to eat, something to take.

Deep within, you’ve always known that she wanted to take you.

You remember crying outside, under that constantly shifting tree on the hill next to your house. The lightless leaves and petals always fell around it in such weird shapes. You were sobbing, desperately clutching grass in your fists to anchor yourself as the entirety of the sky glared down on you. You felt like you were going to fall up. Up into the sky. Away from your family. Away from home. Up, all the way into the beast's mouth. It’s patient, always open, mouth.

Your grandfather eventually saw you there, he sat next to you. He didn’t say anything, not at first, not for a while. Just sat under the tree, his staff in front of him, looking at the stars.

He always waited for you to calm down on your own time, you appreciated it. He would make a big show of always taking a really deep breath in, and then a really big exhale out. You would follow his lead, and breathe in, and out. Until you were calm. He always gave you time, you appreciated it. Everyone else rushed you constantly. It was nice to just take your time and breathe.

“...”

“You know little maie.”

He paused for a beat, you had stopped crying, only staring down at the ground.

“Little maie… Our people used to pray to Quezselai. She was divine. In a sense.”

You looked up, the stars were all behind him. You gripped tighter and looked back down, quickly.

“She was the first constellation we have records of. Old clerics, we think, had made carvings of her, and painted her. We even still know a few hymns from those times.”

He paused for a long while, and then started humming. It was quiet, but you could hear it, you’ve heard it all your life. He used to hum it to you as a baby. You started humming with him.

“You don’t know the words to it, do you little maie?”

You softly shook your head.

“Mm…” He coughed, clearing his throat- and started to sing.

“Sothraii- Sothraii- the halls will fill…

With lights and wolves…”

His voice was growling, it cracked, probably more than he would want you to notice. It scratched against the air, ever so slightly, but it reached your ears safe, and sounded like home.

“For she will bless us

And hold us…

And take us to the sky.”

So you were right to be afraid.

“Sothraii- Sothraii-

Take us to the sky”

He cleared his throat, then paused. He didn’t like to sing much anymore.

“We used to call her that, little maie. ‘Sothraii’ instead of Quezselai. It’s the same stars, same imagery. I don’t know why we switched it, that's a question for your dad, but I still pray to her. Sometimes. She looks scary but… she doesn't want to hurt us- doesn't want to steal us. She just wants us in the stars with her, so she’s less lonely. Being up in the sky for so long, looking so scary. She just wants friends with her up there.”

You… got that. You felt lonely too. Sometimes.

Your hands loosened.

Someone yells your name.

You open your eyes. You zoned out again, didnt you? You’re in the boat still, humming. Is someone…?

You look at the dock you’re tied to, your mother is standing there, she looks grumpy. Uh oh.

“Uhm, hi. Mom.”

(…)

You’re called inside, you had some chores to do, a bit of studying, some weatherproofing. It’s been a long day, you’ve been thinking of your childhood a lot lately. It wasn’t… bad. It was good even, yeah, you liked it- probably. It’s not your favorite topic to ruminate over.

Um, you need to go to bed.

You do the usual routine, clean your cloak, set it on its rack, get into your night clothes. You pull out your star chart- your father has you look at the stars each night, he wants you to memorize them and be an astronomer like him.

You look out at the stars, and say the constellations. All of them, this time.

Estherian, the Archer,
Sondrian, the Harper,
Mirathi, the Mother,
Quezselai, the Beast,
Chioen, the Winter,
Sethrell, the Astronomer,
Lessiue, the Malcontent,
Seran, the Cardinal,
Indyue, the Steward,
Sasarkt, the Cradle,
And… the one you’re named after.
M-

Oh.

Hm.

[Loop 58]

You open your eye. The meadow again. The head housemaiden didn’t… didn’t uh… huh.

That wasn’t the last loop, was it? No you did… um. Hmm. What did you do on the last loop? You think you uh, stargazed? Maybe? Why would you do that? Maybe you hung out with Loop again? Should you ask them?

Hmm.

Whatever.

You need to get to the library, there’s gotta be something you’re missing in the secret room. Better head for the banana peel- save the trip. Trip, hah, that’s a good one. You feel sick.

[Loop 83]

It’s the same, please, the same again. Everybody has started to comment on how you look, guess you’re getting worse at faking a smile. They aren’t following the script anymore.

(...)

You looped back to the first floor this time, straight to the snack room. Onigiri, why not, the apple filling tastes like salt. Isa, Mira, Odile, and Bonnie are all talking about… something, you’re too busy zoning out. You’ve heard this already, you could write this all out as a stage play if your writing stuck around. You chuckle to yourself, it wouldn’t be a very good stage play. You’re a terrible leading man.

It’s been long enough you can move on without seeming strange, and- Stars. You meant to loop to when you had the keys. You don’t want to clear the whole floor again just to see the carving tools… You pull out your dagger. Someone says something, you don’t care what.

(...)

(...)

It’s warm.

(...)

[loop 102]

You open your eye.

You’re helping everyone again, you did it last loop too. You just… You need to hear them call you family right now. That’s what you need.

You help Mirabelle out first, it’s a lot easier having that talk now that you know the script.

You help Odile, you choose to skip the fetch quest. She gives you a weird look but… You get the book. You think about telling her about your home too. But no. That's not in the script. It’s not in the script. She wouldn’t remember anyway.

You help Bonnie. They make you smile, it’s almost a real one too! You love the others, but you think this is your favorite moment.

You “help” Isabeau. You make it to the meadow, you’re always excited for this one. You lay down, and. Stars. Stars all around you. You take a handful of grass, it’s a silly fear. Isn’t it? How are you still scared to look up at something you love so much? It doesn't make sense. Just… embarrassing.

You could reach for his hand? Instead of the grass? No that’s… that’s not in the. Mm. He doesn’t want to. You’re forcing him again. Always forcing him. Disgusting. Disgusting Siffrin.

You still your breathing before it’s noticeable and tune back into the conversation.

“...Anyway, I’ve heard some people can see stuff in the stars, sometimes! Like, pictures! They’re called… conste-something?”

“Constellations.”

“Constellations!!! Yes, that! Do you know some?”

You look up at the stars.

Up at the… at the. At the stars. You look up. You look up. You. Constellations. What? You. You know. No, you don’t. You.

You’re off script, You waited too long.

You look up at the stars. The. Shapes. Hands. There’s. Shapes you can see shapes there's shapes in the stars and lines and names and hands and. And. And. And-

“Oh, Sif I’m. I’m sorry, I didn't know that was…”

NO. No he’s off script, this isn't how this is supposed to go. Why is everything moving too fast? Why isn't he saying what he should? What did you do wrong? Disgusting Siffrin, always doing things wrong. Always doing things wrong. You messed up, you messed up. Your body is full of salt, your hands dig into the grass further.

“Sif? Siffrin!” Isa is over you now, he’s staring down at you. No. No you can’t see that face. That expression no. No. Why is this wrong? Why can’t you do it right? Why can’t you just follow the script?

“Hey! Hey Sif, breathe with me! Breathe! It’s okay!”

You can’t hear him anymore, you can’t. This is wrong. His hand is hovering over your chest. Someone screams. He’s off of you, you think you shoved him. This isn’t right, you need to try again.

Your dagger.

(...)

[Loop 103]

You open your eye.

You’re choking, wheezing. Clawing into the grass and your face equally. Iron pours down, bleeding from your face. You feel like you’re ripping it off.

WHY CAN’T YOU BLINDING WORK RIGHT?!

You scream. Loud. It’s anguish- you feel. You can’t.

You ruined it, you ruined your night with Isa. You ruined it. How could you ruin it? What is wrong with you? Why can’t you breathe?

Your fingernails are scratching through your skin, it’s warm, your face is so warm.

You just.

You just don’t want to be alone anymore. Nobody around you is real, they only read their lines. Actors, characters. All around you. It’s such a phony performance. Such an awful stage play. You want to burn it down, cut it deep and twist it apart.

“Siffrin?!” Someone is running.

Mira. NO. No no no no no. Nobody can see you like this.

Your dagger.

(...)

Quick this time.

[Loop 104]

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

You can do this one. Take the stage- the country needs their favorite tragedian.

Chapter Text

[Loop 167]

You’re… out?

You’re laying in bed, in the clock tower. Everyone else is down at the party in Dormont, you’re supposed to join them after your nap.

You’re trying to mull over what happened in this loop. Or. Today, you guess.

You… attacked them. You didn’t want them to leave so bad that you actually attacked them. A pit forms in your stomach. Disgusting Siffrin. Again and again you hurt them. Your head pounds and pulses, you can’t be out of the loops.

You can’t. You don’t trust this.

Your family shows up at the very last moment you need them? Magically it’s all your fault and you can fix it easily just by talking about your feelings? It’s too good to be true. It can’t be true.

No. Not your family. That didn’t happen this loop. That didn’t happen this loop. Just friends. Allies. Just allies.

The pit in your stomach deepens as you remember what you said to them.

(…)

Isa… is this still forcing him? Are you still manipulating him into loving you? How does he even love you? You don’t know. You think about the kiss and your stomach drops even further. Why did he… push you away? You’re just repulsive. Probably. Is he just saying all this to be nice? Because you might need a boost after what just happened? This is hurting your heart. You don’t want to think about it.

Um. Something else to think about.

Bonnie said they might make more malanga fritters. Or, make them in the first place. That’ll be. Fun.

You can talk to Odile about their familytale. If they can stomach you. After what you said, how could they? How could they ever-

Off topic. Something else to think about.

You’re still taking in everything that’s different. There’s so much that’s different. It’s so refreshing, even in this bed, it feels different. You could swear the pillow is softer, and these covers! They’re warmer and the down is way better! And this pattern! Little flowers embroidered onto the cover, it’s cute. But you feel like you’ve seen it before… bah, probably from a loop maybe, you just forgot. It’s… scary to think you could be actually out of the loops. Should it be scary? Mm. Just, enjoy it while you can, what else. You pull the covers up to your face and re~eea~lly snuggle into the bed. It’s so cozy, the blankets even smell like. Like.

STARS. YOU KNOW WHERE YOU’VE SEEN THOSE FLOWERS.

THIS IS ODILES BED.

SHE’S GOING TO KILL YOU.

You adjust the bed as best as you can to hide your trace and quickly flee the scene of the crime.

(…)

Dormont is bustling, they weren’t lying about throwing a party the whole day, you just wish you hadn’t seen them set up for it 168 times. You’re still on the edge of the whole event, maybe just… one bottle, and a quiet tree under the stars. Celebrate by yourself for a bit. You’re pretty sneaky now, you’ve had- a lot of practice.

Don’t think about it.

You’re definitely sneaky enough to swipe a bottle of wine and- with great pride, a plate of pain au chocolats all for yourself. Siffrin, master thief of pastries they’ll call you. You’re at the edge of the Boulanger, watching the whole event. You immediately spot your fami- allies sprinkled throughout the party. Isa is, oh stars. You unsuccessfully suppress a snort. He has kids hanging from his arms as he flexes, there’s a small circle around him cheering him on.

“Isabeau the strong! Isabeau the great!” They chant. Mmm, Isabeau the brilliant maybe, Isabeau the ‘could pick you up and kiss you with his big handsome face’ maybe. Stars, that’s just embarrassing. Your face might be a shade darker, time to focus on someone else. Mira is surrounded by housemaidens. They’re all so amazed with her, praising her, she’s clearly wishing the focus was on someone else. But… you can definitely see a twinkle of enjoyment. You’re glad she’s having a good time, she deserves it.

Odile and Bonnie are both enthralling a group of excited villagers. Er, well. Bonnie is on top of a table shouting an epic tale of how “CRABBING AWESOME IT WAS TO SMACK THE KING WITH A FRYING PAN,” and Odile is silently supporting them with surprisingly large paper craft figures, all acting out the battle. It’s an impressive show, you’d pay money for this stage play.

You’re happy they’re all happy. But! More pressing matters! You have an entire plate of pain au chocolats to devour! There’s no time to dilly dally! You slip behind the boulangers and make for the edge of town, there’s a specific meadow you haven’t visited in a while. It may as well be time to try it again.

You set your spoils down and lay on the grass, there’s a gentle breeze that swishes your hair, you kind of miss your hat- but, character development and all that, probably best for it to be gone. You look up at the stars. Now that the king is gone it’s all clearer, less distortion. You can make out all of them, it’s so dark around you that each star is perfectly visible. One hand is resting in the grass, holding on, just a bit, the other has a half eaten pastry in it already. You’re such a fiend. Oop, and now it’s gone. Aaand now there’s another. You swear your stomach has a mind of its own sometimes.

A few drinks of wine, and quite a few more pastries and you’re feeling bubbly. All warm inside and happy. Nothings perfect right now but this… this is so darn close. You just wish you had a few more pastries, and that your family- er. Allies were here.

But the stars! Golly, the stars. They feel different now. Different is good, it’s new, it’s proof. You’re happy to see something you love in a better light again. Gah, there’s all your favorites, Antaris, the big North Star that makes up the head of Sondrian, the Harper. There’s Indyue, the Steward. You have always loved his belt. It’s in such funny proportions to the rest of the constellation- made up of far more stars than the entire rest of him. It makes you chuckle. You can even see a hand of Quezselai! Wow that’s a rarity this time of year, maybe Dormont just has a different view than- than. Than.

Than.

Uh.

You don’t- you don’t know any constellations.

What are you thinking? What did you just?

There. There was. Names. You had names, you were… naming things. Properly, too. You think.

Your head hurts. Stars that hurts, your stomach feels a bit sick. A. Tug. No no no, no. Not a tug, not a tug please. Please don’t be looping again. Don’t, please don’t. Your breathing goes faster than you can catch, you grab your heart, stars it hurts. It hurts so bad. Don’t, you can’t. Please. Please. Not again. You need to, need to breathe. There’s no- there’s no sugar. You don’t taste sugar, it’s just a stomach ache, just a stomach ache, just a stomach ache.

Somehow repeating it doesn’t make you feel better.

In, in, in, out, in, out, in, out. Breathe. Stars, Siffrin, blinding BREATHE.

You’re clenching the grass, you think you dropped a pastry. You’re breathing, harsh, ragged a bit. But you’re doing it, it’s okay. It’s okay, it’s okay, Siffrin.

The stars are swirling above you, you can’t make out any shapes in them. Did you? Could you before? Look! Right there, Antaris. You know that, anchor that. Look at it. Antaris! See, it’s not crazy, you’re not crazy.

How. Wait. How do you know that? You… what? Um. Okay.

Alright Siffrin. Let’s… break this down. You somehow knew all the constellations in the sky while specifically knowing NONE of them. And you now know the name of a star you swear you have never seen before. You guess it’s bright right? It’s sort of notable. But… you’d remember more than that right? Antaris. That’s- that’s a solid name. Maybe you should ask Odile. Stars-ology seems like a solid field she might know about.

Just- you take a few more drinks of wine. Just on the off chance you ARE crazy. Oh and another pastry, but that was a given. Okay. Now you’re ready to face the party.

It’s a bit harder walking back, you feel a lot more shaky, but you’re okay. You’re okay Siffrin! Totally okay, going to ask Odile about a totally real star that everyone totally knows about! It’s common knowledge! You just forgot again because you always forget! Totally normal! You’re so normal, good job Siffrin! Swiper of pastries and totally normal guy!

Seems like all the saviors have broken off from the main party, well, except Bonnie. They’re still entertaining a crowd. Might be hard to pry them away later. But everyone else is in a small huddle! Perfect, awesome. This is going to be totally normal. You just sort of… walk up to them, right into their little circle. Not making a single sound. Normal style, nice.

“It’s probably time to wake them from their nap, I’m just worried about him. We don’t really know how long they were looping, what should we do?”

Mira, just to your right, kicks it off, way to go Mira! You’re liking where this is going, and are definitely aware that you arrived so suddenly and quietly that nobody noticed you, nice. That’s how normal people do it.

Odile, on your left, weighs in.

“We need to probe to find out what really happened, I can’t imagine what they could’ve gone through to almost break the world. More to the point, how do we handle Boniface? It’s too much to expect them to understand what this all means.”

You nod vigorously. Good points, all good points. Isa’s up, let’s see how he takes it away. You’re crushing this social interaction stuff. High five Siffrin.

“I’m just… hm. Bonnie can handle it, they’re just going to be upset if we keep excluding them. I’m more worried about how we keep him stable. He seemed a lot more skittish and on edge, just walking to the clocktower earlier. I wouldn’t be surprised to still find him up there, awake and anxious. We can’t ask him to join this big party all of a sudden.”

Isa’s eyes flick between Mira and Odile, his arms are crossed, such a serious boy. Serious conversation stuff. Totally normal to interject and ask about a star. His gaze lands on you for just a second, he probably doesn’t even realize. You poke your tongue out at him. Aaand. Cue the horror on his face. Yup. Wait he’s- he’s covered his mouth and is suppressing a single laugh. Ohoho, this is golden! Odile and Mira somehow STILL haven’t noticed you. They’re still talking, blah blah blah. Yeah they’re worried about you, but this is the perfect chance to screw with Isa. Oh what can you do, what can you do…

Hehehe. You pull a pain au chocolat from your cloak (because of course you have one with you) and set it on your nose, if you hold it juuuust right, a liiiiiitle more, aaand. Yes! You’re balancing it on your nose. You look like a seal, bobbing back and forth just a tiny bit to hold it. He’s about to burst, this is all falling into place. Okay… you just need to land this and it’ll all be perfect.

You bump the pastry up, into the air just a bit.

And…

SNARF!

Caught! Right in your mouth! You lock eyes with him and beam, coup de grace- tiny jazz hands. He snorts loudly, he keels over a bit. SUCCESS! You think this should earn you some XP. And now he’s laughing proper. You’re proud of yourself.

“It might be best to- uh, Isabeau, something more important going on?” Odile crosses her arms. Ooooo~ someone’s in trouble.

It takes him a while, but in between chuckles Isa points to you.

“HA, YEAH, M’Dame! HAHA” He’s on the ground now. Hehehehe.

You make eye contact with Odile, pastry still in your mouth, and smile as big as you can. She jumps. Scaring Odile has GOT to be one of your biggest accomplishments.

“Oh Siffrin!” Mira lets out a laugh, double kill.

“Oh, sorry! I ~dough-n’t~ know what’s got him in a ~roll!~”

Isa crumbles a bit more, you’re great at your job.

“Gems, Siffrin.” Odile pinches her nose and sighs loudly. Bonus points if you can give her a headache.

“Sorry! Did I ~flour~ the mood?”

Now Mira’s laughing a bit. You deserve an award for this performance.

“I assume there’s a point to this?”

“Boo, yeah. I had a question for you. Tall researcher lady.”

She stares at you. Maybe the wine wasn’t the right call. Actually, Isa’s still laughing. Definitely the right call.

“You see that star right there? Just above the tip of that tree, a little to the left, super bright. Can’t miss it.”

Now she’s glaring at you. But she still follows your point and looks up at the stars.

“…”

“Sure. What about it?”

“What’s its name?”

Mira chuckles. “Siffrin! Stars don’t have names, there’s like, a billion of them! How would we name every one?”

Isa’s recovered enough to rejoin the conversation (barely). “Wait wait, haha, I think I’ve heard this one… ~I don’t know Sif, what is its name?~”

Odile isn’t happy. “Siffrin, more jokes?”

“No! No, the star, right there! Brightest one in that whole area, it has a name, right?”

Odile pauses, you can’t quite tell what’s on her face. “No?”

“No, yes it does! Antaris, right? It’s Antaris! Everyone knows that, don’t they?” Your face is serious, Odile realizes you aren’t joking.

“Siffrin. I’ve never heard of ‘Antaris’ before. Is that a Vaugardian thing?” She looks at Mira and Isa.

“No I don’t think it is, I haven’t heard of any star names at all. Well, I guess except for Loop.” Mira shakes her head a bit.

“Yeah bud, sorry no star names over here.” Isa looks a little worried.

Oh. Well then, what? Where did you get that?

“Oh. Okay, never mind then.” You shuffle a bit under your cloak. You feel uncomfortable. Okay, script, script, script. Get your lines right and this’ll blow over.

“That didn't work, guess I didn’t ~planet~ enough.” You paste on your biggest smile and chuckle a bit. Actors don’t embarrass themselves.

Odiles eyes squint. Isa doesn’t laugh at that one.

“Anyway, what are you guys talking about over here? I only caught the boring stuff.”

Mira opens her mouth and starts to talk.

“No.” Odile cuts in before she can get a full word out. “Siffrin what’s going on?”

That’s not. Script. Okay. You can do this. Just- script! Get the script.

“Nothing! Just read it in a book, guess it was wrong.”

“What book?” Isa. Not helping. Not in the script. What do you say? What’s the script supposed to say?

“Siffrin. You promised to talk to us, what’s going on?” Odile looks disappointed. Great. Siffrin, great. You got it, you’re awesome, ruining everything. Can’t even ask a question without ruining it. Disgusting. This isn’t going right.

“Hey, Siffrin, it's okay, you can talk to us. Feelings buddies, remember?” Mira half-crouches in front of you, she’s smiling, trying to be comforting.

You’ve ruined it, you’ve absolutely ruined this conversation. Who walks up to a group and says nothing? Just hides. You’re disgusting, can’t even talk to people right. Your breathing is going to give you away, just get on script. Get on script so you can fix this. Say your lines, actors don’t freeze up like this.

“No no, just, just a-“

“Hey, Sif.” Isa interjects, forcefully- which seems out of character. “Why don’t we go on a walk, just us two. Get you some air.” Isa, patronizing. You don’t need him to save you, he’s just trying to get it out of you, you can’t. No, no. It’s Isa, it’s okay. It’s okay, you need to trust him. You nod weakly, you wish you could hide behind your hat.

Isa shoots Odile and Mira a look. After a pause,

“Yeah, okay.” Odile concedes.

“Let’s go buddy, I think I know a spot you can breathe.” So do you, because you’ve manipulated him over and over again into showing it to you. Disgusting Siffrin.

He takes the lead, you follow, but a few extra steps behind. He leads you to the edge of town, into the forest, to the clearing. Stars, your stuff is still here. He’ll know. You need to try this again.

You think about your dagger.

“Huh, looks like someone else might be here already…-“ he sees the plate of pastries. “Ohh, you were. Did you find this place tonight? I quite like it.” He looks at you impressed, you can’t meet his gaze. “Oh. I showed you, didn’t I?” You look to the side, hiding your tears from him. You haven’t been here with him since. Since you messed it up. “Well, guess we’ve already got the wine huh?” He sits in the grass and grabs the bottle. You slowly sit next to him, a bit too far away. He looks up at the stars, thank whatever that he isn’t looking at you. You slyly wipe away your tears. He’s quiet for a while, just breathing.

“So which one’s Antaris?”

You pause for a while. He takes a slow swig from the bottle, he isn’t looking at you, just up at the stars. You shift a bit, your arms are fidgeting under your cloak, you don’t feel great. What do you even say? Just, follow the script right? Is it better to point out the star or should you change the subject? Your eye is fixed onto the grass at your feet. How do you get a script when you don't know what he’s going to say?

What is your role in this play?

“I took you here to stargaze right?”

You flinch, stars, you try to hide it.

The villain. You’re the villain, remember that you’re the villain.

“Mhm. Thought so. I’ve been planning that for a while. Did it… did it go okay? With the other Isa- I mean, with me?” He tilts his head to you, he’s watching you now. No. It didn’t go okay. At least, the third time it didn't. You never tried after that.

“The first time did.” You rasp out, your eyes still trained on the grass.

“First time, oh. More than once?” You did not want him to know that.

“Couldn’t get enough of these muscles huh?” He chuckles. You hate this. You manipulated him.

His hand twitches, it barely scoots towards yours before he stops it. He wants to hold yours, which is planted firmly in the grass.

“Is that…”

He pauses, he looks back to the stars. He tenses up.

“Is that when you kissed me?”

Oh. Right. Why did you tell him that?

Stupid, disgusting Siffrin. Not something you tell someone. Not something you want to think about. Not something you want to think about.

“...No.” You're probably crying.

“Ah, guess I didn’t plan it well enough. That was… uhm. The desired outcome.”

You can’t really hear him anymore. Your body is foreign to you, there’s salt in your mouth, it’s getting harder to stay quiet.

You’re an actor, actors don’t cry unless it’s their line to cry. It’s not in the script for you to cry right now.

You dull your senses. You’re an actor. Say your lines.

“It was on the first day of the loop. Under the Favor tree.”

He’s so tense. You want to reach out to him, you’re an actor, you should comfort him. That’s what you should do in this scenario. That would be good writing.

“Why-” He’s nervous. He’s so nervous. “Why wasn’t it great..?”

You don’t say anything.

“You said that, earlier. Sorry. You had said that it didn’t go that great.”

You hide your face as best as you can into your cloak. The grass is burning into your eye, it’s hard to even look somewhere else.

“You pushed me away.”

Isa looks like he’s a rod that’s about to snap, his entire body is stuck in place, it's so tense. You’re definitely crying now, you think it can be in the script this time. You bury your face into your cloak, you hug your knees, you’re probably about to sob.

“I didn’t ask for permission, I violated you and manipulated you into liking me. I used magic time travel powers to- to control you. To kiss you.” Wow this is the worst. Your mouth is dry. Telling people the horrible things you did is just awful.

Isa… relaxes? What? He lets out a heavy breath.

“Sif-”

He pauses. He wrings his hands in his lap, he won’t look at you.

“Siffrin, I'm a coward. It’s not just the days you looped that I’ve been trying to tell you how I feel. I’ve been… hmm.” He pauses, turns to you, you won’t make eye contact. Too much shame. But he’s looking at you, his eyes burn into you.

“Do you remember that small coastal town we stopped by? Right after Bambouche. It was the one that was all frozen. It was called Limban, I think. We had to camp outside of it, we didn’t want Bonnie to see all the frozen people, it was already hard enough running from Bambouche. That was the first night we shared a tent, do you remember that? I um.”

He stiffens again, there's a tightness in his face, a quiver in his voice. You do remember that town. You hadn’t even gotten all the orbs yet. That all was… months ago.

“I asked Mira to swap, originally I was going to stay with Bonnie, I don’t even remember why that was the plan, but I asked her to switch with me. I came up with some bogus excuse and pretty much begged her, I think she caught on eventually. But I got her to agree, I set up our tent and just couldn’t stop shaking. You were entertaining Bonnie so I doubt you even noticed, I had to go on a bit of a walk once the tent was finally set up- get some air and uh, calm down.”

“I found a flower, it was this… oh I don’t know the varieties at all. It had these- there were two sets of petals, one on the top of the stem and another about an inch below it. The bottom ones were lightless and the top ones were so stark, it looked like your cloak. That sort of trapezoidal shape. I had wandered into a whole patch of them. I picked a whole bundle of them, ripped a cord off of my dress and bound them all together.”

He breathes in, and out. You shift again, it’s hard to sit like this.

“By the time I was back at the camp it was already pretty dark. M’dame, Mira, and Bonnie were all in their tents, but you- you were laying out next to ours, just looking up into the sky. You had this… look on your face. I don’t see it very much, it’s like you were reliving a really pleasant memory. You even had your bedroll under you, I don’t think you understood we were sharing yet. I stood, and watched you for. A while. It felt like the perfect time to just walk up and lay down next to you, say nothing and just… hold you. Or- or something! Not! Ugh”

He covers his face in his hands.

“It was the perfect moment, and I just stood there, holding this silly bundle of flowers and I just didn’t feel like enough. I didn’t feel like I could match that look on your face. I tossed the flowers and stepped into the little clearing we had set camp in. You turned at that point, saw me and just beamed. I remember! I remember exactly what you said. ‘Oh! Hey there big guy, you almost ~star~tled me!’ I laughed, Odile hushed us from her tent, and I had to then go through the terribly awkward experience of telling you we were sharing a tent. But that’s when I sort of knew, I knew I felt… less than normal about you. Just seeing you, stare up into the sky. It’s something beautiful.”

Isa sighs, he takes a huge breath in.

“Siffrin, do you know how many tossed schemes I’ve come up with to tell you how I feel? Just… a ridiculous amount. Pretty much everyday since that night. I just can’t ever get myself to do it, it’s always too much to worry about and I’m so anxious and cowardly and-” He cuts himself off. “Ugh, just. My point is, you didn’t make me like you just because you could loop time. In fact, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this ‘loop’ hasn't exactly been good, has it?”

Stars, he’s right. You’ve been awful to him.

“Sif- I love you, and I say that because it’s what I want to say, and it’s what I feel. And, about the kiss. I don’t know why I pushed you, I was probably afraid. Afraid of you taking the first step and me feeling like I was letting you down by making you. Maybe it was just too much and caught me off guard. Maybe you’re just an awful kisser.” He chuckles, the jokes help a bit. “But it doesn’t matter, because unless your breath smells like… I don’t know, a fish head, I’m not going to push you away. Um, next time.”

He sighs, that was a lot. You don’t. Urgh, you don’t know. You just need to trust him, don’t you? Isa doesn’t lie to you, you can trust him. He’s probably right anyways. You raise your head a bit, your chin still hiding in your cloak. You flop backwards, laying onto the grass. Isa lays down as well.

You point to Antaris.

“See those stars that make that big L shape right above that tree? Follow the left path until you see a really bright star, just about there. That’s Antaris. The north star, it’s one of the brightest in the sky. You can almost always see it in the sky, and it’s great for finding your way at sea or in the dark.”

You sigh. You’re feeling a lot inside and you don’t understand any of it.

“It’s the head- I think, of some constellation. I could just remember them and now I can’t. I’m not sure why. Things like that keep escaping me, but Antaris didn’t and I wasn’t sure if I was crazy or not. It scared me that you guys didn’t know that star, I thought it was- I don’t know. I was scared and didn’t know what to say.”

Silence, for a beat, then two.

“I’m sorry.”

Another beat.

“And I love you too.”

Isa is still for some time, then, he takes another drink from the bottle and passes it to you. You oblige and drink as well.

“I wasn’t going to mention this, but when you fell back and laid down, a pastry definitely fell out of your cloak and rolled over there.”

Wow, this is the worst thing to ever happen to you.

“Stars, you are just the worst!” You laugh, he joins in.

It feels kind of warm right now. You glance away from the stars, at him. He’s close, not as close as you’d like, but close. You wish you could just reach out and grab his hand, you want to feel his hand in yours. But, no. You can’t. You can’t ask for that.

You look back at the stars. You wonder if you’re making that face again.

You both stay there, under the stars, passing the bottle and occasional pastry back and forth. You laugh about some things, ignore some others, but mostly you’re just enjoying each other's company. Sleep overtakes you both, eventually.

(...)

You dream about the stars glaring down on you. You feel loved, and afraid.

Chapter Text

You open your eye.

It’s the sky of Dormont. Clear sky.

You’ve seen this, a lot. 168 times now.

You know what’s about to happen, Mira is going to walk up and wake you. But you can just… pretend. Pretend for a second that you’re actually out. That last night was real, that you aren’t stuck in the same two days still.

Yeah, pretend! You’re great at that, it’s just acting- but to yourself!

Apparently you’re a terrible actor, or you’re just really good at seeing through an act. Either way, the metaphor got away from you, and you’re crying. Your face is hot, you bring both hands up to cover it as you suppress a wail.

Normal! You’re normal! Just act normal!

Yeah that isn’t working, stifled cries escape you and your body convulses. What an Idiot! You thought you were out?? Hilarious! You’ll have to talk to Loop later, they will LOVE this.

This won’t do for this loop, you reach for the handle of your dagger, if you just loop again you can buy some more time once Mira shows up. You just need a little more time before you see them again, just a little time to yourself.

Before you take the stage.

Footsteps- guess you’re not getting as much time as you need. You shut close a sob and tighten your grip on your dagger. They’re closer. You start to raise your arm, quick, just a slash! Easy, like a fish. You’re a pro at it anyway.

“Hey, bud! Breakfast is about ready, Bon sent me to grab ya.”

The sky is blocked out by Isa's face, he’s smiling at you, his expression quickly drops as he sees the tears on your face and the shaking your body is doing. You hide your dagger.

“Woah, woah hey Sif, what’s going on?”

You can’t keep it up anymore, heat is building up inside of you, salt is in your mouth and throat.

You let out a sob, a howl. You curl up and shake.

“Hey! Sif, lets just breathe okay! Nothing’s wrong, you’re safe here, it’s all safe. C’mon, breathe with me, iiiiiiin, and oouuuuuut.”

You strangle a breath, sputtering and sobbing.

“Is- is it tomorrow..?”

You snap your eyes shut. You let out another howl, your body is crawling with pain, You can’t be back, please don’t be back.

Isa kneels next to you quickly, he hovers a hand over your shoulder and then quickly retracts it.

“Yeah! Yeah Sif it’s tomorrow, we beat the king, we really did. No more loops.”

He speaks in a whisper, a soft voice that flows through the air, it doesn't fight it, and lands in your ears.

“N-no more loops?” Another sob, you choke on this one.

“No more loops. I promise. I can go grab M’dame for you if you need her to explain the logistics.” He lets out a harsh nervous chuckle.

You wrap your arms around yourself, your sobbing is subsiding slowly.

“No, y-you’re smart enough. I trust you Isa…” You pause, you both stay there, him hovering over you.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is strung along and quiet, shame wells in your feet, filling up your legs.

“It’s all okay Siffrin, you’re safe.”

You want him to hold you, to pick you up and coddle you. Something inside you needs it, something stronger than you’ll ever admit. Your breathing is heavy still, your chest has a constricting ring of pain right through the center of it. You gasp out a breath.

“Okay, well let’s take a beat, and then head back to Dormont. Bonnie’s put a lot of work into breakfast and wanted you there.”

You space out for most of the walk there.

(…)

You’re back at the clocktower. Bonnie has set up an elaborate table of food. There’s a decadent and worrying stack of round pastry looking biscuits, the stacking of them is a feat of engineering in your eyes. There’s a few bowls of what look like different egg or potato hashes, and assorted containers of different sliced fruit. Everyone else is sitting, Isa walks in and takes a seat opposite to Odile, you freeze for a second in the doorway.

“Frinn!”

A large straw hat runs at you in full force and tackles you, you step back to ground yourself and pan down. Bonnie is hugging you. Oh- right. You hug back.

“Frinn!!! Where were you last night!! Dile said I couldn’t bother you because you needed your rest. But I thought that was a bunch of crab! You need your friends!!” Bonnie hugs you tighter. You think this is the longest you’ve ever touched anyone.

“Anyway! I made breakfast for champions! Because!!! If you forgot again- WE CRABBING WON!!!” They beam up at you. You smile.

“Oh yeah? Right, guess the king wasn’t that tough of an ~egg~ to crack.”

You give them a cute smile. Isa laughs, Mira shakes her head, Odile just stares, but you know she enjoyed that one.

“What?! I thought we ~hashed~ it all out well enough!”

You get Mira to laugh this time, and you can’t prove it- but you swear Odile hid a smile.

“Frinn you’re dumb!” Bonnie lets go of the hug and punches you in the arm. You weren’t expecting that. Uh. It wasn’t that bad of a joke was it? Your breath stiffens a bit. You look and they’re still smiling at you. Oh. That was- a nice punch? You didn’t know those could be nice.

“C’mon!! We got FOOD!” Bonnie takes a few steps back from you and fashionably presents the table to you, they run around and take their seat, right in front of the mound of biscuits.

You go to the last seat, right between Isa and Bonnie. You breathe in the whole smattering of food, everyone starts digging in. You load a few biscuits onto your plate, cover them with a hash of bell peppers and some delicious looking sausage. A pile of strawberries, some orange slices, and a few blueberries. You pan over a bowl of pineapple slices and freeze for a second. You remember the feeling of choking on one and quickly pass over it. You’ve lost your appetite a bit.

The rest of the food is good. It’s new, new food is good. You get about halfway through before the constant glances to the pineapple dulls the rest of your appetite. Everyone else is still heartily going at it. You stare at your plate, you feel a bit sick now.

“So-“ Odile stands up from the table, capturing everyone’s attention. “We need to set a plan for where we’re going next.” She produces a map from her coat and sets it on the table, scooching over piles of fruit, and to Mira’s horror, her plate of food. It’s a large map of Vaugarde, there’s a little sticker of a star set on Dormont. Gesturing along the routes marked on the map, Odile sets out the group's options.

“We could take a passage east through Sarcienne and then up to Bambouche, crossing again through Limban. I think it’d be nice to actually see that town moving.” She continues. “We could also head directly north, stop in Corbeaux to stock up on supplies and cut through the wilderness along this route straight to Bambouche. I’d say the last reasonable option is to turn west, stop at the edge of this large mountain range, and get a cart in Kalerrha. It'd be a longer journey but would better prepare us for long voyages. Each route should take us no longer than 5 days.”

You idly poke at your food and half listen, you don’t really care where you go. Isa turns to you, his mouth is full of biscuit. He arches his eyebrow.

“What?”

You look around the table and realize everyone is looking at you. Did you do something wrong?

“What’ll it be, party leader?” Odile chimes in, you appreciate the save, though you stiffen, you really don’t want to make this decision.

“Uhm…” you stand and stare at the map, there’s too much focus on you. It all looks very foreign, you still don’t know much about Vaugarde. Only one town on the route other than Limban looks familiar to you, something scratches in the back of your brain, you think you’ve been there before. Corbeaux... yeah.

Somehow, you feel like no other path would work. You pause for a moment to collect yourself. You’re the party leader, follow the script as necessary.

“We should take the north path. The wilderness will be hard but nothing we haven’t seen before, and Corbeaux will have a lot of supplies to restock on that we won’t find elsewhere.”

You don’t really know what you just said, or if it’s true. It sort of just spilled out.

Bonnie throws their hands into the air. “Let’s get CAMPING!”

Odile gives a small smile. “Boniface and I will construct a list of what we need, if anyone has anything extra to request please let us know. We can pack up today and leave by tomorrow morning, I think we can stay in Dormont just a bit longer-“

The thought of staying in Dormont for any longer than necessary makes your stomach flip. You feel queasy. Apparently your face betrays you as Odile glances at you and drops her composure for a second. A brief moment, you think you’re the only one that noticed.

“Actually, if we leave in two hours we should make it to Corbeaux before dark.” A brief pause, an almost unnoticeable hesitation. “We need to get Boniface back home as soon as possible.” You’re thankful she’s going with that cover. Nobody disagrees with the plan.

The rest of breakfast is brief, thankfully nobody comments on the food still on your plate, despite everyone else having cleared theirs. Odile probably told Bonnie not to bring it up.

You have nothing to pack, your belongings all fit nicely into pockets in your cloak, and anything larger is generally kept by Isa. You’re ready to leave Dormont in 15 minutes, everyone else is still packing up in the clocktower, so you decide to take a walk while waiting for them.

You don’t visit anything in Dormont, you can't stomach any more of this town. Instead you enter the forest, hoping to find a nice piece of wood you can carve with, though your tools are missing. Hopefully you can get some in Corbeaux. Sun beams peter through the foliage over your head, there’s animals chattering somewhere, you don’t care to track them right now.

Your eye is down, scanning the detritus and ground of the forest. You walk for a while in the silence of it all, sure there's crunching and the drone of animals around you, but everything else is still. This is real silence, it’s beautiful. You shudder as you realize this is what the King wanted, a more permanent silence. You quickly clear out the thoughts that might agree with him, he was wrong, he hurt people. He hurt Bonn-

Look, perfect timing, a fallen tree. There’s a few decent sized branches thick enough to realistically carve with., you leverage your body and push against them to snap off the material you need. It breaks easily, and you fall over. Right, you’re stronger now. You gather what you need and slip the best looking one into a pocket in your cloak, the others you carry as a bundle in your arms. It’s probably a good time to head back.

You follow your steps back, it doesn’t take long to end up back in Dormont, you make your way to the clocktower. Everyone is outside, securing their packs and double-checking all they have. Isa notices you first as you walk up the steps to the clocktower.

“Hey Sif! Ready to go?”

You nod, you have no goodbyes to give.

(...)

Travel is slow, you deliberately hang back at the end of the group, you’re a bit sick of leading. And you know MIra knows the way well enough. The group is loud, Bonnie is upfront bothering Mira, and Isa and Odile are going over the supply list. You’re supposed to be paying attention too, but zone out. Something inside you feels off, tense and spikey. Your chest burns a bit.

“-Frin, Siffrin. Sifarooni, Sif, Sifarundo.”

You perk up and look up at Isa, he’s walking backwards and facing you, Odile is pinching her nose and sighing.

“Sif! Welcome back to the ground, how was it up there?”

“Uh-” you gulp, you pale a bit and don’t know what to say. “Um it was fine? Sorry.”

“M’Dame would like to know if you have anything specific for the shopping list.” He does a bow and gestures to Odile, then he stumbles and lands on his face. Odile smirks.

“Walking backwards, what an innovation Isabeau.”

His reply is muffled by the dirt his face is planted in. A brief pause, you aren’t sure why, and then Odile sighs and stops to help him up.

“M’thanks M’Dame.” Isa smiles wide and starts to shake off all the dirt, he pats his clothes down and wipes his face. He looks at you with a grin. There’s still a scuff of dirt on his cheek, you should clean that for him. You lick your thumb and reach your hand out to his face, and freeze. Hand hovering just in front of him. You screwed up. Your hand shoots back into your cloak and you shove your face down.

“Msorryletsjustgo.” You walk past him and Odile quickly, you don’t want to see the look on his face. You make your way to the front of the group and take the lead, subsequently the group’s pace doubles.

There’s only a few hours of travel you have to do in all before you make it to Corbeaux, the sun is setting when you enter town, the ground has turned into a cobbled path rather than dirt, and the buildings are all dense together, it’s much larger than Dormont. There’s not much reason for shopping today, so your group's goal is to find a place to stay. You navigate the town quickly, the others are trying to drink in the sights, but your feet seem to have their own quest. You don’t know where you're headed, but it all feels vaguely familiar. You wind up in front of a large stone building, you know this is where you need to be.

“Hey Siffrin-” Mira speaks up, you realize you’ve navigated entirely in silence. “I’ve been here before, there’s an Inn just a few minutes from here that I figured we’d stay at. Do you want me to lead there?” There’s an anxiety in her voice, a slight quiver, you realize she’s sharing glances with Odile and Isa, Bonnie is uncharacteristically quiet. “Just, take a rest? We’ve been going pretty hard for that last leg.”

“But, we’re where we’re supposed to be.” You object, you don’t know why.

“Which is where?” Odile interjects. You know you need to be here, but you also know in an argument you don’t hold any water against the three of them, you have no clue why you’re here.

“Uhm, you’ll see. We just need to be here.”

You look up at the building, it’s tall and imposing. Most buildings here are mostly made of wood, and are full of windows and patchworked paneling. This building is all stone, unbroken in its face save for a single set of large metal doors. It feels like the entire building looms over you as you stare at it, threatening to reach and grab you at any moment.

“C’mon Frinn I don’t like this place, can we just follow Belle?” You feel a tug on your arm, you jolt a bit. Bonnie is holding your sleeve.

“Uh-” You look at your companions, there’s worry on their faces. Worry for you. You’re ruining things again. “Sure, yeah. Sorry.” You hang your head and follow the group away. It feels wrong to walk away from this building, but you can’t do anything about it.

The inn is fine, you think you’re just in a bad mood. Your party gets three rooms, one for Odile, another for Mira and Bonnie, and the final for you and Isa. You haven’t said anything since the stone building, you follow Isa up the stairs of the inn to your room. He enters first, you pause at the door.

“Siffrin?”

You turn around, maybe a bit too quickly. Odile is standing there.

“Come on a walk with me.” You open your mouth to object, she holds up a hand. “Isabeau will be fine without you. Come on.” She turns and leaves before you can respond. Guess you’re following her. You begin to plan some lines for what she’ll ask.

If she asks: “Why didn’t you eat your food this morning?” You just weren’t hungry. Maybe you’re sick, hungover. Sure. That’ll work, she’ll drop it after that.

If she asks: “Why did you run from Isabeau?” Well that’s easy, you’ll just say you got flustered, that’s perfectly believable. Nothing about the overwhelming burn within your body for touch, you can’t say that. Ever.

If she asks: “What was that building?” Just a surprise! Can’t they let you have a surprise? Maybe it’s a fun shop! Yeah! Sure! Oh, but it’s only open on this one specific day so oops! Can’t go there again! Guess we missed it. No, Odile won’t buy that. Maybe just say it was from the loops and that you need time before you can talk about it? It’ll have to do.

You realize you’ve been following Odile for a few minutes now, she hasn’t said anything. She’s holding a map, referencing where she walks with the map, you wonder where she’s leading you to. You actually look at the town this time around, the sun has definitively set and most streets are dark or lit by tall lamps. Something in you chuckles at them, but you’re not sure why. The rest of the town is winding, head-achingly so, without Odile you have no idea how you’d get through this town, in fact, you have no idea how you navigated it before, your head starts to hurt a bit.

Something impressive to you is the life that’s still in the town, most Vaugardians would have turned in by now, but there’s a decent amount of people in the streets, and most shops or buildings you see are still lit and open. Despite the time, the town is fairly bright. You steal a look up to the stars and your heart drops, most stars aren’t visible thanks to the bright lights all around, you turn back to Odile and keep following her.

“Okay, we’re here.”

In front of you is a vastly different building than what you’re used to, it’s almost all wooden, and is lifted a bit off the ground. Most of its walls are various panels, and stone seems to be used incredibly sparingly in its design. There are some similarities to the other Vaugardian buildings around, it has the same roof style and its walls seem thickened beyond the natural design, it feels like a building of two opposing architects. You look at Odile, she has a smile on her face.

“I’m glad we picked this route. I present to you, Siffrin, a Ka Buan bazaar.” She does some minor showy gestures towards the building.

The differences inside are stark, most Vaugardian shops have specific stock lists that you bring to the workers there, they’ll fetch the items for you, which are typically kept in large bulk containers and stored out of general reach. This bazaar is all shelves of small packaged products, they tower all the way up to the ceiling, past what you could reach.

As you enter Odile calls out something in Ka Buan to the shopkeeper, who is sitting near the entrance. You vaguely recognize what she said as a greeting, you bow to the shopkeeper and say a basic Ka Buan hello. It sounds stilted and forced in your strange accent. Odile smirks and lets out a small laugh.

“I brought you here because I knew the Vaugardians would have a terrible time picking anything out, here’s a list, there’s some questions I have for the shopkeeper. Let me know if you need help reaching anything.” She ruffles your hair, you pout in response.

Most of the words on this list are lost on you, you’re forced to just directly compare to each item in front of you, this’ll take a while. You can hear Odile speaking in Ka Buan with the shopkeeper, you haven’t heard her speak much of anything in her native language, it’s nice seeing her connect like this.

The shelves are all lined with a smattering of products, gems, bottles of various liquids, bags of spices, you even find an entire shelf of just small paper-craft creatures. Unfortunately, you cannot reach that shelf, and refuse to ask Odile for help, so the paper creatures will have to wait. You eventually find everything and fill your arms, you wish there was a basket or something to carry this all, everything you have is stacked in your arms precariously, if someone were to bump you everything would fall.

You make your way to the counter with Odile and the shopkeeper, on approach, Odile lets out a large laugh. You imagine it to be something the shopkeeper said, until you see the pile of baskets right next to the counter. Oh. You set everything on the counter and look at Odile. After a brief exchange, you both leave the bazaar, everything safely kept in a newfound basket.

“Here. I got this for you.” Odile procures something from the basket, a small bottle, and hands it to you. She pulls out another bottle and holds it pointed towards you. You stare up at her, confused. You begin to reach for the other bottle. “No, Siffrin. ‘Cheers’ I think is the Vaugardian term? You’re supposed to tap your glass together with mine.” Oh. You push your bottle into hers and a faint clink sound resonates out. Odile then takes a swig from her bottle, you follow suit. Sweet and grassy, sugarcane juice! Your face brightens.

“I thought that was the right call.” Odile leads you to a nearby bench, under a tree growing through the cobblestone pathways. She lets out a sigh, but stays silent. You both enjoy your drinks while people-watching. A long time passes before Odile finally breaks the silence.

“Siffrin I know somethings wrong, I know you’re on edge, I know you’re afraid of us, and I know you and Isa desperately need to talk. I’m not asking you to tell me right now, but I promised you I’d reach out before it was too late again. I see your smile drop when you think nobody is looking, and I see the tremors you try to hide. Those time loops had to have taken a huge toll and I want you to talk about them.”

You look down, you don’t feel panicked, which is a nice change of pace, but you do feel guilty. Your stomach hurts and your throat feels caught and dry. You don’t know what to say right now, you don’t know what would make you feel better.

“I also know you slept in my bed yesterday.” You turn in horror to face Odile. “Ha! I knew that would get you, I had Isa set you up in it since it’s the most comfortable. Consider it a gift.” You huff. “Oh you’re fine.” She takes another drink and turns back to the town.

You stare down at your hands, you feel cold.

“I was just in there for…” You pause, you hide your face in your hands. “For a long time.” You scratch your face. “I don’t know how to be normal again.”

“How to operate without a script? To face the consequences of upsetting your friends?”

You nod weakly.

“How-” Odile pauses, uncertain if she should continue. “How long?”

167 times. With each loop being about two days long, 334 days. Almost a full year. You’ve done the math before, you did the math constantly.

“I don’t know.”

Odile grimaces and stares down at you, you feel cornered. She sighs.

“Okay Siffrin, when you’re ready we can talk about it. And you will talk about it.”

You nod, your entire body feels tensioned and coiled, you’d like to leave now. You stand up and start to walk away.

“Siffrin.” You stop, you don’t turn to face her. “You will talk about it, you’re important to us and we want to take care of you.” She pauses. “Come back to the inn when you’re ready.” She gets up and walks to you. She ruffles your hair. “Get out of your head sometimes, we’re not going anywhere.” She walks past you and disappears behind a turn.

(...)

You wander for some time, you don’t really need sleep, you’ve gotten used to staying up all night, you could rarely sleep during the loops. Corbeaux is large, and mostly stone, you spend most of your wandering around the edges of town, there’s more planted trees and less tall stone buildings reigning over you. At a certain point in the night, maybe an hour or two after you and Odile split ways, the crowds of people start to thin, some streets turn off their lights and a few shops close.

You make your way to a random one, hoping to find something before everything closes for the night. You enter a strange store, you didn’t pay any attention to the exterior of it when you entered. The room is pungent, varying spices are flavoring the air, it’s dense here. You’re distracted by the shopkeep, who shouts out a Poterian greeting, you say one back. You wonder how you’ve avoided Vaugardians this whole night.

The shop seems to be similar to the Ka Buan bazaar you went to earlier, but for Poteria. Granted, there’s much less differences than in the Bazaar, Poteria and Vaugarde are neighboring countries, and it’s not uncommon to find immigrants from each country in the other. This shop seems to be primarily for varying spices, the counter behind the merchant is stocked with large bags full of varying powders and grounds, each different shades.

Something inside you itches, you remember something about Poteria, but you aren’t sure what. You go up to the counter. In their native tongue, you ask for something. The word is lost on you, you say it all as reflex. The merchant nods their head and tells you they’ll need to check the back. They disappear behind a corner.

You shake your head, it throbs a bit. What did you ask for? And why Poteria? You don’t even remember learning the language but you’ve understood everything so far. A pull in your head tells you that you’re supposed to remember something about Poteria. You wish you understood what was happening to you.

The merchant comes back carrying a small-ish bag, inside is thousands of tiny, darkless beans. You jolt in recognition, you only have the Poterian word for it, but you’ve seen this before. You’re slightly surprised you actually were able to find some in Vaugarde. You pat your pockets, looking for any money you have to pay for it. You only find the silver coin. The merchant looks at the coin, and waves it away. They say they haven’t had any luck selling this stuff, they’re happy for you to take it off their hands.

Bag clasped and in tow, you head back to the inn. You get lost, a lot. More than you’ll ever admit to Odile, but you eventually find it. You sneak into you and Isa’s shared room, he’s splayed across the bed, there’s no way you’ll be able to lie down without touching him. You hesitate. This is what you want, isn’t it? You want to touch him, to hold him, to sleep with him. A twang of shame sends you to the floor instead. You’ll just sleep here, you remove your cloak and bundle it up like a pillow. Thankfully it’s a warm night, so you should be fine. After an hour of ruminating, sleep finally takes you.

You dream of a drink that tastes like dirt. It coats your tongue. Plum, chocolate, salt.

Chapter Text

You blink your eye open, once, then twice. The world materializes around you. Isa is in the corner of the room, comparing two dresses to wear, you look away, your face a bit warm. You’re dressed in your usual fatigues, simple lightless clothes that are tight fitting. Being out of your cloak you appear much smaller, you feel naked and vulnerable. You quietly rummage through Isa’s pack and procure another set of your clothes, the same style and shade, and slip out of the room. He doesn’t notice you.

Clothes in hand, you make your way to this floor's bathroom, closing and locking yourself in, you change.

You stop about halfway through and look into the mirror, your hair is fussier than normal, your eye looks heavy and dark, your face is twisted. Your body is whole, it's together. Your skin is clear, little to no trauma reflected on it's surface.

You run your hands along your chest, stopping where scars should be, where you remember scars being. You bring your hand up to your throat and scowl. There should be countless scars here, a memory flashes in your head, sputtering on the floor. You hesitated and missed the right vein. Mira and Isa rushed to you immediately, Odile took Bonnie away. You tried to apologize but just coughed up blood.

You shake your head, clearing out the thoughts. You don’t want to think about that right now. You finish changing and exit the bathroom quickly, back to Isa and your room. He’s inside, examining the dress he finally decided on.

“Oh! Good morning Sif! Whaddya think?”

Isa’s dresses are always new, somehow. He takes them apart and recombines all their pieces constantly. This one is a new take, the dress is primarily lightless, as they often are, the top is multi-layered and folded, like a flower pressed flat. This is all sashed by a repeated looping cord that pulls it all tight. The cord links down to his waist as well, where a surprisingly simple long skirt is secured. The border of it has an intricate pattern laced into it. The dress is sleeveless, as they usually are, though his arms have two different shaded bands from his forearm to his wrists around them. HIs hands have more rings than usual, and his usual gauntlets are hung on his side.

You’d expect something that looks this extravagant to be terrible for combat and travel, but you know Isa designs everything to be painstakingly durable and usable. You don’t even want to imagine the hidden stitches and reinforcements that go into this working well, he always puts so much work into his clothes. You think back to your own and how much you’d rather wear something he made.

“Hey Sif? If you need me to pose you can just ask.”

You blink, what? Oh, stars. You’ve just been staring at him haven’t you, how long has it been? It’s not your fault he always looks so blinding attractive! What else are you supposed to do but stare!

You quickly turn away, your face is hot.

“Fine! You look fine! Good choice!”

“Hehe, if you say so~” Isa crosses his arms and laughs, stars, you can’t handle this man. “I won’t tease you too much, M’Dame and Mirabelle have Bonbon out on a shopping spree, we’re free to do whatever we want with our time, I think the plan is to leave around midday.”

You nod and start picking up your things, you slip your cloak on. You can feel your dagger in its sheath, it’s heavier than normal.

“M’Dame lent me this map of Corbeaux, I figured we could find somewhere to eat, unless you had any shopping you want to do?”

You did want to find a set of carving tools, but you have no money for them.

As if he could read your mind (maybe your face just betrays you again), Isa offers to pay for whatever you need. You murmur in embarrassment, you should be able to pay for your own things. But you don’t object, you need new tools after all.

(…)

Much like last night with Odile, you follow Isa through Corbeaux, his nose in the map. After a few turns you end up in front of a long line of identical buildings. You enter the one with a carpenters sign on the front of it, you’re immediately greeted by a smiling Vaugardian, you forgot how intense they can be in shops. You ask for a set of carving tools and the merchant procures three sets of them, setting them on the counter in front of you. Isa peers over your shoulder as you decide between them.

You run through a general checklist, one has many different tools or varying sizes and uses, this set comes in a large wooden box that is ornately decorated. You shirk at the price when you hear it. The second set is just one tool, with different folding blades kept in its hilt. You look at it quizzically, the shopkeep talks it up as some “multi-tool” that all the new kids are using. You pass over it, you prefer traditional tools. The final set is just three different knives bound in a leather roll, you purchase that one immediately. You tuck it into a pocket in your cloak, right next to the piece of wood you found earlier, and exit the store. Isa shares his thanks and goodbyes with the merchant, a process which takes a bit too long in your opinion, and then exits behind you.

“Alright, let's get some food in you! There’s a boulanger just around the corner, Mira said it’s well worth the trip.”

You follow him wordlessly there, you catch a table outside as Isa goes in to order. You pull out your new tools and give them a closer inspection. They’re sharp, but not sharp enough. You procure your sharpening stone and get to work. Isa appears suddenly next to you.

“Please be sharp, please be sharp, please be sharp.” Isa says in a bright teasing voice. “Getting them ready huh? Do you know what you’re gonna carve?” You shake your head. You continue sharpening your tools and murmuring. Isa sets a croissant in front of you. “Got your favorite!” You look up to him, unamused.

“You must not be very ~sharp~ if you got me a croissant.” You tease.

“Oh I assure you, I would never make a pastry faux-pas, I could never put you through that kind of ~pain!~”

The joke is a bit lost thanks to his accent, but you get it. You both laugh loudly, he raises his hand. A memory pops into your head, a lot of memories actually. You stare at his hand, it’s moving so slowly, the laughter fades into the background, you hear a buzzing in your ears. Your shoulder itches. You wait for him to touch you, you wait for him to touch you.

You wait for him to touch you.

You wait for him to touch you.

You taste iron in your mouth, your body feels weak. You know he won’t. He’s too afraid, and you can’t ask for it, you can never ask for it. He’ll pull his arm back, salting your proverbial earth, and you’ll both pretend this never happened.

You wait for him to touch you.

You wait for him to-

His hand lands on your shoulder. Oh.

You stare, eye wide, at his hand. You don’t even realize what’s happening, you don’t flinch, you just stare. You turn to his face. His hand shoots back.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I thought- Just with- Bonnie an-and Odile I thought! I thought it would be okay. I'm so sorry!” He steps back from you. “I should’ve asked, I'm so sorry!”

You blink, once, twice. He’s still apologizing, his face is full of embarrassment and horror, he thinks he hurt you. You grab his collar and pull him in, you almost kiss him, almost.

You know what happens next if you do.

So you stop, with about an inch of space between your faces. He sputters. His eyes are wide. You let go of his collar.

“You touched me. You never touched me, you always stopped, I saw you! You always stopped! Your hand would hover there for a second and you’d hide it! You’d try to hide it!” He reels backwards, his face is flush. A pang of guilt and horror fills you as you realize you just yelled at him, you hate the part of you that’s angry at him. “Why?! Why was this time different?”

He looks scared, your insides flair. You regret everything, you should never have said anything, or done anything, you should’ve stayed sleeping on that floor all day, you should’ve ran when you could. You should run now, you need to restart this, you need to try again, get your lines right. You did it again, you yelled at him, you took your frustration out on him. Your dagger weighs impossibly more at your side, it feels like it’s burning, you grab its handle under your cloak. That would fix it, right? You could just loop again. You can always just loop again.

“Siffrin! Siffrin!” His hands are on your shoulders. His hands are- are on your. He’s touching you, again. His hands are on your shoulders. You meet his eyes. “Breathe, okay? Breathe with me, it’s okay.” It isn’t okay, why is he worrying about you? Why is he trying to calm you down? You mimic his breathing, the heavy in, and out.

His hands are hot, they’re burning into your shoulders, melting your skin. You want him to let you go, but more than anything you need him to keep touching you, to hold you and touch you. You’re staring into his face, it’s a twisted mix of fear and worry, you think there’s a bit of disgust in there. How could there not be? You keep breathing with him, you act as if it grounds you.

“Siff I-” He pulls his hands off of your shoulders, you feel cold. “I don’t want to be a coward anymore. I’m not going to be a coward anymore.” His voice is quivering. He locks eyes with you. “I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s okay.”

You flinch, is this happening? Is this really happening? Your heart starts to race- more than it already was. You feel sick- no, jubilant. Your body is boiling. You need that, you need him to kiss you.

“No.”

You don’t know what you’re saying.

“No, what if you kiss me and I loop again?! What if I have to do it all over again and this just becomes something fake again. What if you push me away again?”

You’re sobbing. Why. Can’t. You. Just. Let. Him. Kiss. You.

What is wrong with you? You need it, you need to feel him.

“Sif you aren’t going to loop, and I won’t push you away. You’re out, you got out. There’s no more loops.” He pauses, and backs away from you. You feel worse, you need it, you need to kiss him. “I won’t kiss you, not until you want it.”

But you do want it! You need it! Your entire body is on fire, your mind is racing, you feel broken. You can’t ask for it, you need him to do it, why can’t he do it? Why did you say no? Why are you so broken? Your face feels hot and wet as tears spill out from your eye.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you so much so quickly, I’m sorry Siffrin. I’ll give you all the time you need. It’s okay.”

And then, as if it’s an afterthought.

“And I’m not going anywhere. You- We have time.”

He swaps the croissant in front of you with another pastry, you don’t recognize it, and you can’t ask what it is, your throat is stiff.

You both eat in silence. The food tastes flavorless.

(...)

You both reconvene with the rest of the party in the inn. Bonnie and Mira are packing up all of their shopping spoils. Odile hollers at you. You turn.

“Catch!”

You react quicker than you’d think, and catch a book, thrown directly at your face. You pout in objection.

“Oh you’re fine, I knew you would catch it.” You look down at the book, it’s small and leather bound, all the pages are blank. “It’s a journal, you will write your feelings in it. I’ve put a papercraft lock on it, so nobody else but you will be able to open it. Not even me.”

“Wow M’Dame! That’s impressive, I’ve looked into those locks before, that takes a lot of work.” Isa revels. Odile just returns a smirk, clearly proud of herself. You look at the book and tuck it into a pocket in your cloak. You’re gonna run out of pockets eventually.

“Za! Look at what we found!” Bonnie enters the conversation, holding a large wok over their head. “I can cook so many cool things with this!”

They turn to you. “Frinn! Snack request! GO!”

“Uhm, malanga fritters?”

“NOPE! Already on the list, something else!”

You scrunch your face, what food do you even like? You try to sift through your memory but you can only think of the snack breaks on each floor of the house of change. You definitely don’t want to eat anything from there. You look at the new wok and try to come up with something.

“How about hand pies?”

Bonnie's face lights up, they pump the wok in a celebratory manner. “YEAH! PINEAPPLE HAND PIES!”

NO, you can’t do pineapple, how do you pivot? This could be bad.

“I was thinking more savory? How about lamb?”

Bonnie squints at you. “Za, what is lam?”

“It’s sort of like a sheep? I don’t know the exact differences, and I’ve never heard of them being food. M’Dame?” Isa turns to Odile.

“It’s a baby sheep. I’ve definitely heard of them being eaten, but not in Vaugarde or Ka Bue. I doubt we could even find someone selling it.” She turns to you and asks, almost clinically. “Did you eat lamb when you were young, Siffrin?”

“Yeah, it’s a lot easier to farm than beef or something. What, have none of you ever tried it before?”

Bonnie bursts. “NO! WHY WOULD I EVER EAT A BABY SHEEP!?”

“Uhm, because it’s… tasty?” You don’t have a good reply, you don’t even remember having lamb, or what it tastes like. Is it not normal to eat lamb? You feel like it’s normal, the default even sometimes.

“FRINN YOU’RE DUMB. I WON’T EAT A BABY!” Bonnie huffs and leaves the room.

Odile writes something down, you snap to her. “What? Just journaling. Maybe you should too.” She smirks at you.

Isa steps in front of you and beckons for you to follow.

“C’mon Sif, let's go help pack. I bet Mirabelle is distracted by now.” You nod and follow.

Packing is mostly easy, though there’s too many packs for you to avoid carrying one this time around. You’re assigned to carry all the food and spices. There’s the various jars and bottles from your and Odile’s shopping trip, as well as whatever new goodies Bonnie just got. You slip your bag of beans into the pack as well.

Mira and Bonnie eventually enter the room as you and Isa pack. Bonnie looks very uncomfortable, Mira gives them a pat on the shoulder and whispers something to them.

“Frinn.” Bonnie won’t make eye contact with you. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, I didn’t realize that different cut-tures eat different things.” They shuffle uncomfortably. You walk up to them and kneel down.

“It’s okay little maie, I know it seems pretty weird, and you’re partially right, I remember as a kid when I first found out where we got all our lamb meat. I freaked out and didn’t eat any meat for a whole year! My parents had a rough time cooking around that restriction.”

“Yeah that’s dumb. I’m sorry Frinn.” Bonnie finally makes eye contact with you, you open your arms for a hug. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen Mira do this before? They hug you tightly for a second, then break the hug and punch your arm.

“I still won’t eat any lamb though, you won’t make me!”

“It’s a deal, little maie.” You pat their head. You feel like Odile.

Speaking of Odile, you hear her writing something again, you turn around. She looks up from her book and holds your gaze. She shrugs, and puts her book away. You all get back to packing.

(...)

Travel this time around is quick, you’re in the lead again, everyone is in mostly good spirits, and the path isn’t too wild yet. You’re still following Corbeaux’s stone roads, but soon you’ll have to break away and cut through the wilderness. Isa is up at the front with you, Bonnie and Mira are playing some kind of game, Odile is following behind, nose in a book. You’re impressed she can keep up while being so distracted.

“Isa?”

“What’s up Sif?”

You pause and quietly grumble to yourself. Deep breath in, and out.

“It wasn’t bad. When you touched me. Earlier, I mean.”

“Oh, okay.” An impossibly long pause.

“Do you want… Do you want me to touch you more?” You can feel what he wants, he wants you to say yes. Needs you to say yes. This is how he expresses himself. You’ve kept him from it. You stay silent, this is your nightmare.

“Hmmmm… If you DON’T want me to touch you more, say… say ‘funny bunny.’”

You stay quiet. You appreciate him.

He chuckles. “Gotcha, and Sif?”

“Mm?” You don’t have it in you for full words right now.

“This conversation never happened okay? Secret style.” He puts his finger to his lips and does a dramatic shushing sound. You laugh, stars, you love this man.

(...)

Bonnie stops the party after about two hours into the trip.

“Za! Frinn! Belle and Dile say it’s” They dramatically breathe in. “SNACK TIME!! SO STOP YOUR FLIRTING AND LET’S TAKE A BREAK!!”

You bow. “Oh yes, great snack leader!”

Isa chips in and bows as well. “Thank you for this blessed break snack leader!” You both look at each other and giggle. Bonnie huffs.

You all set up a quick camp, there's more travel to be had today, but for now you’ve all earned a rest. Bonnie takes Odile over to their fire for cooking help. You, Isa, and Mira all form a circle, and rest on your packs.

“So Siffrin?” You look over to Mira. She opens her mouth to say something, and then pauses. She glances at Isa. “You- shoo first, this is a conversation for feelings buddies only!” Isa makes a dramatic show of walking away, with his head hanging down.

Mira clears her throat. “Siffrin. It’s my turn for a special Siffrin moment, I think I’m long overdue. Isa and Odile have been hogging you.” You chuckle and give her a nod.

She sighs and clenches her fists. “You already know about the bonding profiles, right?” You nod at her, she mumbles something, pauses, and then. “What did you mean when you said I’d always be alone?”

Right, you said horrible things to your whole family party. It’s only natural they’d have some questions. You close your eye and breathe in, and out. “Spoilers?”

Mira shakes her head. “I’ve thought a lot about it, we can still talk about this, but I don’t want to know everything that we talked about. Just, don’t spoil too much?”

You sigh. “I was frustrated with how long everything was taking, that’s why I said everything so callously. I’d had that conversation already a few times and was just… sick of it.” You feel guilty, sick of talking to your friend? That’s disgusting. You breathe in, and out again, trying to regulate your feelings. “I wanted you to feel okay with not changing. I know that’s the entire point of the change belief, but it feels wrong to me to force yourself to change in ways you don’t want to.” You breathe in, and out. “Like- like I wouldn't want to ever be… physical with someone. Would you say that’s a part of me that has to change?”

Mira shakes her head, this is a lot of information. You hope you aren’t ruining anything.

“So why should you be expected to change to want a romantic relationship? Isn’t it okay to not always change?”

Mira turns down to face the ground. You feel bad for largely forcing this conversation. She’s quiet for a while.

“But that’s the default, isn’t it? We’re supposed to change in ways that make us uncomfortable, why is this different?”

“Default doesn’t mean right for everyone, and… I don’t know. Maybe you are, but there’s a difference between changing to grow, and changing just because you feel like you have to. At least I think so. When I grew up, we were always supposed to follow the Universe's will. It would… communicate to you what It wanted and what it wanted you to do. But, it was always a choice. I remember the universe showing me that I needed to be an astronomer, like my dad. But I didn’t want that, and when I rejected it, the Universe gave me something else to be. There’s power in being who you are and what you want to be.” You trail off, your head hurts.

“So what did you become?”

“What? Oh, I don’t… I don’t remember.” Your head pangs, you’re trying to remember what you were just talking about. You let out a yelp of pain and clutch your head, you can feel your entire body pulse.

“Siffrin? Are you okay?”

“P-peachy.” you cough out. You double over and fall onto the ground. Stars your head hurts, you feel like you’re going to split in two.

“Madame! Somethings wrong with Siffrin!” Mira shouts for Odile as you sputter on the ground. Your head is on fire. You feel people crouching next to you, a careful hand lands on your forehead, you flinch, but it stays. Everyone’s shouts blend into background noise, your head is full of pulses and sound. You feel a wave pass over you, and you shudder, but your head clears a little bit. You let out a strangled gasp. Another wave, better again, and another, the pulsing is getting quieter. You open your eyes, Mira is using healing craft on you. Your whole body shakes as another wave passes over you. You’re able to hear everyone again.

“-n c’mon Sif, let’s just breathe, can you breathe? In and out with me, c’mon…” Isa, he’s panicked.

“Siffrin will be okay Bonnie, Mira’s healing him.” Odile, level, but you can hear the fear in her voice.

“Frinn?! Frinn!” Bonnie, they’re worried about you.

Mira is surprisingly quiet, she’s probably too focused on her healing craft.

You sit up, and shake your head wildly. “Mm f-fine.” You cough out. Your head still rages on, but it’s a lot more manageable now. “Better, thanks.”

“FRINN!” Bonnie runs up and hugs you, Odile tries to catch them, but they’re a bit too quick. You look up at everyone else, they’re all worried.

You cough. “Better, better now. Sorry.”

“What happened?” Odile asks, though she’s looking at Mira for an answer, not you.

“We were just talking and he collapsed. I don’t know what happened at all.” Mira lowers her voice, but not enough. “He wasn’t freaking out or anything like that, it just happened…”

“What specifically were they talking about before they collapsed?” Odile, quiet too, but she knows you can hear them, so it isn’t hidden as much.

“Um, their childhood, he mentioned their dad and their faith growing up.”

“Hm.” Odile pulls out a book and writes more things down. “Siffrin, are you okay now?” You nod. You feel a lot clearer. “Is there something you’d like to share with the group?” You stare at her blankly, you don’t think you do? “About where you’re from?” Oh, so she’s pressing on this now. There’s no reason to hide it, you guess. You just didn’t want everyone to worry.

“Um, I’m from the same country as the King. The island north of Vaugarde. I figured it out while doing the loops.” You sit up and reclaim your spot against a pack, but you stare down at the ground, avoiding everyone's gaze.

Silence.

“I want you to explain it, Siffrin.” Odile, you’d think she was being cruel if not for all the time you’d spent with her.

“I don’t remember my family, my home, my culture.” You pause. “Or my name. It’s all lost.” Your face feels wet, you realize you’re crying. You don’t know when you started. “Sometimes it comes back, but only briefly. And I can’t remember much after that. That’s why I freaked out about the star the other day, I remembered it, but nothing else in the sky.”

Isa kneels next to you, you feel his hand hover over your shoulder, and then land. It’s weighty, and hot.

Nobody says anything for a long time.

“Um, Frinn?” Bonnie pokes your side, you look at them. “Would snacks make you feel better?”

You smile. “Snacks would make me feel a lot better.”

“OKAY! I can do that! Everyone get ready!” Bonnie runs back to their cooking setup and returns with their arms full of various foods. They set the food down in a pile and procure the first treat.

“BEHOLD! BREAD AND CHEESE!” Bonnie is holding up a platter of various bread slices and cheeses. “Dile says these are the BEST cheeses in all of Vaugarde!” They set the platter aside and ready up the next item.

“Up next..! MULLS!” Bonnie holds up a bowl of shiny lightless rocks.

“Moules” Odile corrects, she glances at you, noticing your confused face. “They’re shelled seafood, decently popular in Vaugarde, I’m surprised you haven’t had them before Siffrin.”

You shrug. “I try to avoid eating rocks, that’s more Isa’s territory anyway.”

Isa’s objection is lost in Bonnie's next unveiling; they seem particularly excited.

“FINALLY, HAND PIES! FOR SIFFRIN!” Bonnie runs up to you and shoves a cloth sack into you. Opening it you find a few hand pies, they smell sweet. “Pineapple! Dile said it should be fine instead of lamb!”

You stiffen, you barely keep yourself from throwing the pies. You don’t want Bonnie to have to get rid of pineapples, it’s one of their favorite foods. But, you’ll die if you eat them. What a normal conundrum, you’re really great at this whole ‘not being a burden on your family’ thing. No, friends. Just friends, you didn’t force them to be your family this time.

You must not hide your reaction well enough, Bonnie squints at you. “Frinn. What’s wrong?”

You open your mouth to speak, but hesitate. Stars, are you really so repressed that you won’t tell your friends that eating something will kill you? Who does that? Why can’t you just work like a normal person would?

“Sif what’s going on?” Isa, he never left your side. His hand lands on your back, you flinch and flash a look at him. His hand stays. “D’you need to breathe with me?” You nod. He begins to exaggeratedly breathe, a heavy in, and out. You mimic it, it helps center you a bit. His hand is hot on your back.

“‘M allergic. To pineapple, I mean.” Your back is burning.

Bonnie's face falls, you aren’t quite sure what emotion is on their face, you wish you could still know how everyone would react. It was easier. No- you shake those thoughts from your head, you don’t want to think about that right now.

“How allergic?” Odile, always inquiring. Always. You wish she’d just- no. You aren’t angry at your friends for caring about you. That isn’t fair or okay. Disgusting.

“Um, eat only once kind of allergic.”

You recognize the emotion on Bonnie's face this time, it’s anger.

“FRINN! NO!” Bonnie smacks the pies out of your hands, they go flying into the dirt. You feel guilty about the waste, it’s your fault. “I COULD’VE CRABBING KILLED YOU AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME??!”

Your body is bubbling, you feel like you’re going to boil. Isa’s hand weighs on your back, it’s unbearably hot. You shudder a bit. “Just didn’t want to keep you from it, I know you love pineapple.” You taste something bitter. Salt.

“I LOVE YOU BEING ALIVE MORE!” Bonnie huffs, their composure weakens, they start to cry indignantly. “Frinn, I don't want to kill you!” They run from you to Mira, who begins to console them. Odile shoots you an accusatory glare.

“Siffrin I’d love to know why you decided not to tell us about a lethal allergy.” She isn't looking for an answer. “Is there anything else groundbreaking we should know? You promised to talk to us, and I won’t have sympathy for you if you choke on a pear or something.” Isa and Mira nod solemnly in agreement with Odile.

You burn, your body burns. Isa’s hand on your back weighs tonnes and is super heated. You feel surges through your body from it.

“I can’t eat bananas either. I’m not allergic, just. Can’t.” Odile arches their eyebrow, you cut it off before she pushes it further. “I won’t talk about it now. Please.”

Odile sighs and pinches their brow. “Okay Siffrin. Now that that’s out. Let’s eat? I guess?”

The rest of the snack break is mostly quiet- at least you are. Mira and Odile eventually cheer Bonnie up, who wordlessly hugs you and then runs away. Isa stays next to you, he eventually takes his hand off your back. You feel relieved and cooler, though you want him to touch you again almost immediately. Isa pries open a few moules, you stick to bread and cheese. It tastes like sand.

Back on the road, the group is all in high spirits, save for your moping. You’re in the lead again, you’ll travel until nightfall, and then camp for the night. You’ve broken from the path at this point, now you’re heading through forests and valleys. The group takes another snack break at some point, there’s no pineapple to avoid this time, you’re back on the road quickly.

(...)

Night fell a few hours ago, everyone set up their tents in the usual order. Bonnie made a sort of Vauagardian stew for dinner, they made enough to last the next few days of the trip. You and Isa are now laying in your shared tent, bedrolls spaced apart. You set yours down away from him, a part of you yearns to be closer. You’re turned to him, staring at him in the dark. He fell asleep some time ago, you didn’t say much to each other when you went to bed, you regret that. He’s going to start thinking that you hate him. You’ve noticed that when you don’t share a bed he sprawls out, taking up as much space as physically possible. You could so easily slip into any given crevice and be held by him. You could probably do it without waking him up.

You sit up, entertaining the idea. It would be quick and easy, you’d slip right into his roll with him. You look at his arms splayed out and imagine them wrapped around you. You feel hot, it would be so easy, so painless. You reach for him. Your hand stops, gripping the edge of the bedroll. You’re looming over him. You're a predator, stalking its prey. You shirk back into your bedroll, disgusting. You’re doing it again, controlling him. Taking advantage of him. You bury yourself and wait for sleep to take you.

You dream about...

Chapter Text

It’s dark, that’s the first thing you notice. Well, that’s maybe not the way to put it, the darkness just sort of is around you. It never forms, dissipates, fluctuates, it just is.

The second thing you notice is your skin. Your entire body crackles, you raise your hands, they’re entirely lightless, save for the darkless border around them, like an illustration. You look farther down, viewing the rest of your body. Your chest, shoulders, legs.

There’s an emblazoned star directly in the center of your chest. It pulses again, and again. You feel your body sway with the pulses, you realize it’s breathing- your breathing.

Your hands go up to your face, probing around your head. Ceramic and glass spike into your hands, an incorporeal array of skewers adorn your face, they resist at first, and then shatter. You pull away, they reform on your face. Pain and heat, melting and fusing. You realize they’re shifting, your whole body is shifting. A spilling bag of sand and gravel.

Your head- (is it still a head?) Thunders, you can feel reverberations scatter across each prong, your whole body fizzles and warps, it takes you a moment to realize you’re experiencing sound. Do you even have ears?

But no, it’s sound. All encompassing, omnipotent, debilitating sound. Your body is quavering, it’s hardly kept together. You’re made of thousands of tiny strands that wobble and shake with the vibrations in the air.

You can hear it, the roaring, it displaces the darkness around you, fragments of light begin to poke out, like a blanket full of holes has been rested over your body.

This is the night sky.

You are a star.

There is the Universe.

She is mad at you.

A hand, composed of stars, connections drawn by thousands of now-dead astronomers, pencils and ink and string, all fit into the liquid gelatin that is a palm, seven fingers, and two thumbs.

It crashes into the floor (floor?) in front of you, the entire galaxy quakes. Another hand, another, another, another.

And another, another, another, another, another, another, more and more and more and-

A face, a singular face. It is larger than you, larger than the pathetic star you have apparently become, larger than your life will ever or could ever be.

It opens its mouth. You’ve heard its roar, it nearly tore you apart. It would take astronomers thousands of years to piece you back together.

Brace yourself for another.

The mouth opens, and whispers.

The voice (voices?) is around you.

Behind, above, below.

Its words have no heed for the air, they simply are.

It tells you-

Wants you to know that you are-

“A baleful thing, a heap of limbs, shell, and sound.

Once human, able to look into a reflection and see something recognizable look back.

The sleeping river, the one from your dreams

The sleeping river, the one that is your dreams.

With teeth the size of your wrist, and body whole.

Your throat, the gloaming, the… beast.

The stars used to love you, when your blood was intermixed with mine.

That cool red pool on the kitchen floor.

You will see lights in the sky, and wolves in your body.

You will wake one day and swallow the forest, the true forest.

Wait for that. Sleep with the river.

Love the stars until they reciprocate.

Wait for another.

Another…

A n o t h e r . . .

. . . “

Chapter Text

You snap awake, shooting up immediately, you’re wielding your dagger, ready to attack. You were falling up, directly into the mouth of a creature, it had hands and eyes everywhere. You shudder and pan around your surroundings. You’re in a tent, Isa is laying next to you, sleeping peacefully. The tent is dim, the sun must not be up yet. Breathe, breathe.

In, and out.

You fit on your cloak and slink out quietly.

The sun is almost rising, you can barely see light cresting over the horizon, wildlife around the camp is still quiet. It’s a serene morning, and you’re the only one to witness it. The grass is cool on your feet, which you realize are bare.

You have an idea, it just pops into your head. This is the perfect time. You make your way to the camp supplies, they’re wrapped in a large paper box. Odile has perfected these security devices, a paper craft defense system that will keep out wildlife or intruders. Thankfully you know the craft to unlock it. You make a quick hand sign and the papers all fall to the ground. You rummage through the bag and procure one of Bonnie's large skillets and the bag of darkless beans you got in Corbeaux.

Starting a fire is simple enough, Odile has devised a paper craft technique that uses friction to light, you quietly thank her for all of her advancements. Heating the skillet you hold your hand over it, once it’s hot enough to feel you dump a portion of the beans in, covering the bottom of the skillet. You sit back and watch, something inside you stirs, you’ve done this before, thousands of times. You grab a stick and begin stirring the beans for an even cook.

After a few minutes the beans start to crack, releasing a scent of chocolate and dirt. The beans are all far darker now, they’re chattering as you stir. When they are the correct shade, you take the skillet off the fire. Tossing the beans between a bag and the skillet, you husk off their shells. Now for the fun part. They’re ready to be crushed, you acquire two large flat rocks, spread the beans out between them and begin grinding them. You get the bulk of the work done, once all of them are at least broken, you hold out your hand and make a rock sign.

You pull at a flow of energy and flux spills out of your hand, the rocks let out a cracking sound as they subtly change shape, they begin to slowly revolve in different directions. Once you can feel the grounds as equal sizes, you cut off the channeling and the stones stop, inert. You lift the top one to find your prize.

You snag a kettle from the supplies and fill it with water, then set it in the fire to boil.

Now for a filter, you hadn’t considered this part yet, most of your actions have been by total reflex. You hold two sheets of salvaged paper together and form a papercraft sign with each hand, pressing them into each other. You pull energy from within you and weave it into the pages, stitching between the two pages, energy from your heart, through your arms, into the pages. You work on it for a minute in concentrated silence, pulling and molding the paper.

Satisfied, you release your hands, you’ve formed the pages into a satisfactory conical filter. You eye it critically, there are variations in the gaps, and some holes are too large- grounds might pass through. Scooping the grounded beans into the filter you set it over a large carafe. Something stirs behind you, you whip around. Odile is exiting her tent.

“Sorry- did I wake you?” As hushed as you can.

“Mhm, there’s a lock on the food, I could feel it when you broke it.” She trails off into a yawn. The kettle begins hissing, now you can pour. “What are you cooking? I thought you hated to cook.” Odile sits across from you as you begin to pour. First a small amount, wetting all of the grounds. You shrug, you still don’t remember what this stuff is called. Odile watches intently, and then pulls out a notebook, seemingly from nowhere. She begins to write.

“Can you run me through this-” She’s interrupted by a yawn, her eyes are heavy. “This whole process?”

You nod. "Sure, I’m roasting these beans, forming an even layer over consistent heat they'll eventually release their moisture. 'S called the crack, because they make a cracking sound." You're mumbling, focus is on the grounds, you watch as the water slowly seeps down into the carafe.

33... 34... 35... 36...

You're counting?

"Then you grind them, even as you can. You're looking for the grounds to be the size of sea salt, about. In a filter you pour hot water over it all."

43- 44- 45. It's time. You pour more water over the filter in a circular motion.

"That's called a bloom, lets the grounds open up. Kinda like with tea?" Odile is nodding and following your words intently, writing down each thing you say. She pushes back a yawn.

"Then it's just a matter of keeping the water level until you've brewed long enough." The filter slowly empties, every 10 or so seconds you add more water on top, stirring it up.

3 minutes. Longer and it'll get bitter. You lift the filter out of the carafe and toss it into the fire, drips of water leak out of it.

“Why did you toss that last bit of water?”

“Already got all I want from the beans, it’ll just get bitter if I let it keep going.” She nods and writes more down.

“What is this all for?”

You take out a set of mugs, you each all have your own, Mira made you pick one out. Odile’s is handmade and has a gemstone embossed into its surface, she actually already had that before you all met. Yours is a basic one with the words “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my marmalade” written on it. Isa and Mira swear it’s a hilarious Vaugardian joke, though it’s still lost on you. You pour the liquid into both mugs, it’s steaming. You smile lightly. Odile takes hers and inspects it.

You breathe in deeply and smell the cup, clasped in your hands. Chocolatey, there’s a bit of tart fruit, you think plum?

Odile stares at you and mimics your actions, she smells deeply. She reels a bit. “It’s… chocolate? Is this some kind of cacao drink?”

You shake your head and take a sip. Hot, let it coat your tongue. It’s dark and bitter, but just the right level. There’s a small sweetness to it, acidic, but not sour. Something went wrong though, there’s an underlying saltiness to it. You’ll have to tweak your recipe, maybe ask Odile for tips on forming the filters with craft? Could also be the grind, Isa might have better control over rocks.

Odile gazes into the cup, hesitates, then takes a drink. They almost immediately spit it out. “Gems! What is that?”

You shrug and take another sip. “Don’t remember the Vaugarde word for it, Poterians have a word that means something like ‘dark wine,’ though that’s a mistranslation of what it actually is. It’s more like… tea?”

She looks back down to the dark liquid. “Where did you get this?”

“Poterian shop in Corbeaux, apparently I know the language. They had it hidden in the back, shopkeep said he couldn’t get rid of it so he just gave me the rest of his stock. I don’t think he knew where it was from.”

She takes another sip, and is able to hold it down this time. “It's… strong.”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s definitely an acquired taste, and I brew it pretty strong. Brings out the fruit notes more. It helps if you aerate it a bit? Like, slurp the drink. If you let it coat your tongue immediately you can also taste more of it.”

“Is this from your home?” Odile gently probes, she’s probably worried she might cause another freakout.

“Think so, can’t remember. I feel like I’ve done this thousands of times, but I’ve no clue why. Just feels natural. I don’t even know how I knew to ask for it.”

The sun is up properly now, the others begin to stir in their tent’s. Isa is the first to exit.

“Hey folks, smells like something’s cooking, Bonnie up early?”

Odile shakes her head and holds up the mug. “Siffrin, some drink from his home.”

“Wow, didn’t know you could cook without starting a forest fire.” Isa hums and sits next to you, you pour him a mug. His is from Jouvente, it’s standard from the Defenders break room. Isa accepts the mug and takes a small sip, he immediately flinches, but doesn’t spit it out like Odile. He forces a swallow and coughs.

“Change, woah, Siffrin what is this?”

You make eye contact with him and take another sip. “I dunno, not tea, or wine. That’s as far as I got.”

Odile loudly slurps the drink, you suppress a chuckle. She catalogs the taste into her journal.

Mira and Bonnie join the group shortly. You pour Mira a mug, hers is from the House of Change in Dormont, she had made it in a pottery class. It’s lopsided, less sturdy than Odiles. You don’t pour Bonnie one.

“Sorry little maie! Grown up drink, not letting you get any more hyper than you already are.”

Odile looks at you and squints her eyes, she opens her mouth as if to say something, and then changes her mind and turns back to her drink. What was that for?

Mira has a surprisingly good reaction to the beverage, you share tips on how to taste all the notes.

Bonnie scolds you for using their pan without asking, and then gets to work on breakfast. You pour yourself another cup. This definitely isn't your finest brew, but you’re happy to share it with your family. Friends, your friends.

Breakfast is simple, and you’re all on the road shortly after. You’re leading again, pathfinding through the wilderness. The trek is monotonous, the wilds have nothing to offer you today. Bonnie demands the occasional snack break, the food is fine, it’s good even! You just wish you could taste more than salt.

You travel until the stars hang overhead, you get your bearings with Antaris. It’s vague, you don’t have any of the correct tools, but you think you’re about halfway through your trip. You mark the direction you’ll head tomorrow and sit down at the fire with the rest of your party.

Bonnie reheated the stew from last night, it still tastes like salt. Bonnie and Odile joke about a bet they had, apparently Isa’s confession was the topic of a lot of intrigue. Mira shares an excerpt from her most recent romance novel, Odile an Isa listen and discuss the book and it’s themes, Bonnie and you break from the book club and rest in front of the fire. You quietly watch the flames.

“Frinn?”

“Yeah Bonnie?”

They shuffle in place next to you.

“What food do you actually want?”

“I don’t really know, I don’t remember what I used to eat as a kid, not very well at least. I just enjoy what you make, and I want you to cook what makes you happy.”

“Frinn that’s dumb.”

You chuckle. “Yeah probably. I just want different food, not the same things you made in Dormont. I’ve had those… too many times.” You look up, the stars are bright, you draw your eye from Antaris to the edges of the sky, three of Quezselais hands are visible now. That’s more than there should be this time of year. And wasn’t there just one a few days ago? You.

Hm. You zoned out for a second didn’t you? Bonnie’s saying something, better pay attention.

“And no pineapples right? Or bananas?”

You nod. “Yup, wouldn’t want me to go ~bananas~ do you?”

Bonnie huffs and shoves their side against you, they stay pressed against you.

“You’re a crab, Frinn.” They murmur. You feel them radiating on your side, is this… a hug? A half hug? Cuddling? You don’t know what to make of it, you quell your breathing before it’s noticeable. You aren’t going to hyperventilate just because a preteen is hugging you. You can handle touch.

You watch the fire quietly, Bonnie leaning against you, the others eventually join at the fire. Isa and Mira are tending to the packs behind you, going over stock and making sure everything is secure. Odile sits across the fire from you, she procures a notebook and begins reading from it. Bonnie starts softly snoring. They must be tired, it is quite late. You look up to the stars, yeah, later than you thought actually. The group sits like this in relative silence for some time.

You feel Bonnie weighing against you, you feel the warmth pulse from their body. It’s a lot, but not like when Isa touches you. Isa… you can vaguely hear his and Mira’s discussion, a lot of boring lists and plans. You shake your head, refocusing your senses into the wilderness around you.

The fire is crackling, buzzing even, there are scant chirpings coming from the surrounding forest, draped in darkness. You turn and peer into a direction, waiting for something to make itself known. The darkness feels all encompassing. Trees stretch into a melting lightless background. Your hairs stand up, your back bristles.

You had watched three figures walk out of that melt slurry once before, a defender, a researcher, and a housemaiden. They approached your camp, you held your dagger at your side as they shared their story.

A sadness had followed them. The darkness grew and warped as limbs and features sloughed out of it.

There’s still a scar on your leg. The housemaiden hadn’t perfected her healing craft yet, so the gash was left to heal on its own.

Your insides buzz and twist, your leg twitches. They hate this story.

You turn to the sky.

It’s much vaster, much easier to lose yourself in all the millions of dots. It’s something much more worthy of your fear. But you feel safer, more connected. Stars, the loneliest things in the Universe.

“ a n o t h e r . . . “

Some feeling about wanting friends washes over you.

"Siffrin." Odile interrupts the silence of the night. You face her, was she trying to get your attention? You’ve been stuck in a reverie for some time.

"What does 'little maie' mean?"

what.

What.

WHAT.

You pale. What did she just say? What... What was that? Was that a word?

"What did you just say?" You blurt out, with far more intensity than you like. Odile pans up from her book, you can hear Isa and Mira stir behind you.

"Oh... Little maie. I haven't be-"

You shoot up, there's a pain in your... leg? Your head is throbbing, pulsing. You can feel your body slosh your blood around. You taste iron. Someone calls out your name, Bonnie is woken by the sudden lack of a Siffrin pillow.

"whuhhuu- Frinn, whadijyou..."

"Odile. Say it again." You demand, your voice is harsh, the stars are above you, they're always above you.

She's staring at you, her face is inscrutable, she's judging you right now, sizing you up, calculating how big of a freak out you're about to have. Her eyes flick behind you, Isa's probably ready to catch you if you try to run.

"SAY IT!"

Your heart hurts, it's working too fast, the stars there's... they're all behind her, swirling, taunting, calling your name. Someone says your name again. Again. Again.

You're staring at her, you think you start to cry. Your head is melting, cracking and reforming. She needs to say it, she needs to say it again. You need to hear that word again.

"..."

"Little maie."

You keel over, your head is so loud, the stars are so loud, the grass. You need you need, you need to! Your hands are full of grass, clinging on, it's your anchor, without it you'll fall into the sky.

You’re screaming. You need to scream, you need to hear that word.

“AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN! SAY IT!”

Isa kneels next to you, you feel his hand on your shoulder, he’s trying to get you to breathe. You don’t need to breathe, you need to hear it again. You need to hear it again. YOU NEED TO HEAR IT AGAIN.

“Siffrin… you need to breathe with Isabeau.”

No. NO. Blinding, you need that word, it’s ringing, you can barely hear it still. You need the word again.

“ODILE I NEED! I NEE-… I….”

You falter, you realize you’re screaming at her, you need to soothe, you need to get back in your body. No. You need that word… you need… urgh. You can’t. You can’t do this.

“Please Odile please. Please please. I need it.”

You’re sobbing.

“…”

You gasp and hiccup, your body is quaking. You let out more sobs.

“Little maie.”

You hear it. Little maie, little… little maie. Little maie. Little maie. Little maie. Little maie. Little maie. Your body is surging with each time you repeat it.

“Little maie. Little maie. Little maie. Little maie. Little maie. Little maie. Little maie. Little maie. Little maie. Little maie.” You’re whispering, Isa just stops, he glances at Odile, you can’t see her face. You don’t want to see her face.

You start to laugh. LAUGH. HOWL.

“LITTLE MAIE LITTLE MAIE LITTLE MAIE LITTLE MAIE.”

Mira is on your other side now, she’s petting your hair. Bonnie is next to her, you think they look worried. You keep spitting the word into the grass.

You choke on a sob and a word, suddenly Isa’s voice cuts through the air, it washes over you.

“Hey buddy, you’re uh, kinda worrying us over here. Wanna come back down from space?”

You remember that, somehow. Someone said that to you before. You don’t. You don’t know, you don’t remember.

You look up at him, tears spilling from your eye.

“Little maie…” His eyes are focused on you, he has a weak smile to comfort you but you can see how tense he is, he’s scared. You’re putting them through this again.

You choke back another sob. You hold it in, you need to. You’re worrying them again, hurting them again. Your dagger feels hot in its pocket, your hand twitches to reach for it but you stop yourself.

You need to soothe. You realize how far your fingers have buried in the dirt. You start to unclench everything. Slowly. You can do this, you’ve done this before. You start to go through your checklist, you breathe in, and out. You roll your shoulders, you can feel the silver coin burning in your pocket. You need to move, but you can’t. You can’t face them. Your eye bores a hole into the dirt.

“Siffrin… do you not want us to say that word?” Mira starts rubbing your back. You don’t want her to but- but it isn’t bad. You think.

Your body is dissolving. It’s just your body. You’re okay. Breathe in, and out.

A lot of time passes.

“I remember. That word. Someone used to… someone used to call me that.”

You choke out another sob. Someone says “Oh.” Isa’s grip on your shoulder stiffens, Mira’s hand on your back freezes, you hear Odile write something down.

Chapter Text

You don’t want to talk about it, you don’t want to think about it. Your past is lost on you. It’s a waste of time trying to remember something that’s lost forever. It’s a waste of time. Your head screams as you remember the King, both of you trying to shout its name. You feel that pain all over again, but you remain laying down, as still as you can. You can’t make Isa worry again.

After your freakout everyone fawned over you, you hated it. You were yelling at them, they should be disgusted with you. Odile and Mira tasked Isa with protecting you tonight. You resent them for that, you’re fine. Everything is fine. It’s not worth killing yourself just to remember something you don’t need.

It’s been a few hours now since you all went to bed. You feigned sleep to get Isa to stop worrying about you. You’re staring at the top of the tent, you hate sleeping in tents. You miss camping in the open, in a tree or set in a hammock. You could always look up and see the stars, watch them dance around and spin. The tent blocks all that, the only thing you see is canvas and an unlit craft lamp.

You look around your enclosure, your eyes have adjusted to the darkness at this point. There’s your clothes, stuffed into a bundle in the corner, your cloak on top, with various trinkets set around it. Your dagger, a set of carving tools, a piece of carving wood, and a journal.

Oh, that might be useful.

You reach for the journal and press with two fingers on its side, the paper craft lock on it unclasps and you open the journal. It’s entirely empty. Oh. Pen, or any writing utensil, you don’t have a single one. You stare at the blank pages in the dark.

An idea pops into your head, you hold your hand flat and push energy into the page. You're not sure if this type of paper craft will even work, but it’s better than staring at the ceiling for another painful hour. You can feel the paper warming beneath your fingers. You cut off the energy and lift your hand, left on the paper are the words:

“You were there all along, but still, you return home.”

That seems a fitting way to start a journal. You’re mildly impressed with yourself, you think you shifted the pigment on the page? You’re not sure, you just followed the movements of when you made the paper filter. It felt… natural? Whatever. You get to writing.

“Siffrins totally secret journal, Odile do not read.

It’s been 3 days since I got out of the loops. So, 334 days compared to 3. Seems even, perfectly even. Great, love this.

I freaked out tonight, again. Always do that. I remembered another word, apparently I’ve been calling Bonnie it. I won’t write it down, my history is gone, there’s no getting it back, I won’t remember it.

I think about my dagger a lot.

I need to come up with a name for that dark liquid I made today, and I need to iron out my recipe. I’m thinking 55 seconds bloom, then submerge the grounds for only 3 minutes at most. I can make the filter more porous to let the flow be faster, that should stop the salt taste from seeping in. I might ask Odile about the filters, she has more paper craft experience.

The gloaming,
What’s called inside my throat
To dive down whole and taste the walls deeply
O’ ye beast, that take my mouth, my tongue, and every other finger on my hands
Lanced in my back, fingernails and scalding water
Held like a cracked doll
Bitten and torn into the vines and tendrils growing into my esophagus.
Filling the vein paths of my lungs
I am ravagedly tasty.
And I am sated.
It’s time for blueberry muffins.

There Odile, I wrote a poem. Is that enough feelings? No, I shouldn’t be mad at her.

I’m mad at them a lot, my friends. I say that I resent them. I’m mad they forgive me, but that isn’t fair, is it? I would forgive them, for anything, without a thought.

Stars, this is all so on the nose. Can’t even journal without getting melodramatic.”

You lift your hand from the page. You filled a few, there’s a lot of rambling thoughts and ideas that go nowhere, but it feels… better to have them in solid form. You try not to think about how upsetting it is for Odile to be right about your feelings.

You go over the entry again, there’s something satisfying about reading your own work back to yourself. You mumble the poem, quiet so as not to wake Isa. The words flow out of your mouth slowly, a bit like cold honey. They ooze and pool down your neck.

You hear a shuffle and quickly shut and hide the book. You can’t be caught dead journaling, that would ruin your whole “mysterious” energy!

Isa is moving around, he’s murmuring something, you watch him closely. Just a bad dream, he’s still asleep. You turn back to the ceiling and huff. Maybe you should journal more. You could try another poem, it’s been a while since you-

Unfortunately, your thoughts are cut short as a sturdy freckled arm lands square on top of you, lightly crushing your chest.

You freeze.

The arm probes around, you look to Isa, still asleep. You can feel your blood circulate through your body as Isa grabs your side and pulls you into him. You don’t react, you’re limp, unable to move. Another arm wraps around you.

Okay so this is the worst thing to ever happen to you. Your mind is about ten steps behind. Isa is… spooning you?

Isa is spooning you.

Isa is holding you.

You’re being held by Isa.

Isabeau. Is. Holding. You.

It’s. Hot?

Yeah, sure. That encapsulates it. No other words, why bother?! Nothing makes sense right now so you may as well just shut your stupid brain up and go with it.

But no you’re taking advantage of him aren’t you? He’s literally sleeping, he can’t consent!

But he pulled you in?? He’s the one holding you.

Isa is holding you.

That feels wrong, why does that feel so wrong?

But it’s Isa, and he’s holding you.

You’ve dreamed about this, you’ve spent entire loops just being around him, trying to get this to happen. But this isn’t right? Is it?

STARS. What are you even supposed to do now?

You haven’t even thought about how it feels.

Okay bringing that up was a huge mistake, because now ALL you can think about is how it feels.

Your skin radiates and your insides swim. You feel sick and elated and horrified and jubilant.

His arms are restraints, you’re strapped onto the operating table, he’s clutching you tightly, a shudder passes over his body. His hands clench, his fingers press into your back. You convulse. Right, you hate being touched.

“Lanced in my back, fingernails and scalding water
Held like a cracked doll”

The words pop into your throat, they almost escape. You guess you’re prophetic? Maybe you should journal more.

You need him to never stop holding on, you need him to bury his fingers into your back like you’re a mound of dirt, and you need to bleed on him. But it’s hot, so hot. You’re sweating- no, he’s sweating? The chimeric mound you both form is sweating.

Your skin is on fire, it’s peeling off of you. You need him to let you go. You need him to never touch you again. You’re going to be reduced to a sludge, compacted and ripped apart. But you want him to rip you apart. You want him to cleave your body open and drink your blood.

Stars, Siffrin okay. Tune it down, you literally just talked about being melodramatic. Normal people don’t bleed on other people.

Your body is alit, your eye is staring at Isa’s sleeping face. How can he just do this in his sleep? How are you supposed to know what to do? How is it fair that this is made to be your decision? You’d be furious with him if he wasn’t holding you like this. Like a prized toy, something to be meticulously taken care of and treasured.

You stop yourself from realizing how much you want to be Isa’s most treasured object.

Do you just… wait here? Do you sleep? Is it worse if you stay awake all night or is it worse if you fall asleep like this? Do you wake him up? How do you wake him up? Gently or loudly, as if you don’t want this?

But you do, you need this. You need to feel his hands around you, you need to feel his hands reaching down your throat and clawing desperately at your insides, you need- no. Siffrin. The melodrama. Again. Write a poem you repressed freak.

You open your mouth. You need to wake him up, that’s only fair. He shuffles again and tightens his grip.

Nope, nevermind. You can’t. You’re going to stay here forever and nothing will stop you.

You ignore how sick you make yourself feel. Oddly, that only makes you feel sicker. Ignore that too, you guess.

You close your eye. Just. Just a few minutes like this. You’ll wake him up. You will. Just… you’ve earned a few minutes- haven’t you?

(…)

You dream about eating something soft and alive.

Chapter Text

“Sif..?”

You mumble something, you were shooting for “what” but it comes out as more “mmmwhrhaah?”

You feel a shaking, like you’re riding on a bumpy carriage. You open your eye, annoyed. You blink the blurriness out once, twice. You’re looking at Isa, he seems close. Is he… worried? No, that's more the face he makes when he tries to confess to you. Embarrassed?

“Mornnin…” you blink again. No, you recognize it now, that’s the face that he makes when he’s horrified, why is he so scared? Your senses come back to you, is something wrong? Is there danger? You whip your head around the tent. You turn back to Isa.

Wait he’s really close, has he always been this close? How far did you set your bedroll last night?

“Whatss wrong Isa?”

He just lets out a whimper.

Wait, he's shaking.

Why is he?

Oh.

OH.

You BLINDING IDIOT SIFFRIN.

You shove yourself away from him, shooting to your feet. You’re mortified. You did it, you went and did it. Three cheers for Siffrin, so unbelievably disgusting that you took advantage of your sleeping friend all because you wanted touch? And couldn’t ask for it? That’s pathetic. That’s disgusting. Pathetic, disgusting, horrendous Siffrin.

Isa says something, you can’t hear him. You tear open the tent and leap out into a sprint.

Not your finest moment.

You don’t even know where you are now. You don’t know how far you ran. All you can hear is a pounding in your ears, your own heart punishing you.

You reach for your dagger.

What a fitting end! What an absolute cap to this atrocious loop. Just restart! Haha! You can always restart! Because you can’t live with this!! You can’t just do that to someone and then keep living!! No! You don’t deserve it.

You don’t deserve to even live with the consequences of your own actions. You don’t get to hahaha!! You aren’t allowed!!! You’ll just loop again! Take the stage our darling stardust! Hurt your friends again and ruin their lives!

Your hand clasps empty air. Right, dagger still in tent. Awesome. And there’s no tears or banana peels anywhere around either huh.

Loop would lose their stars over this. You can hear their obnoxious laugh in your ears. Yes, you get it. You’re the joke, the punchline of a cosmic prank. You finally leave a time loop of your own making and then!!! Immediately ruin literally everything in your life! And to top it all off! Your FIRST reaction was to slit your own throat! Great job Siffrin. Great job.

You sit in the dirt and clasp your face. This is fantastic. You’re crushing this whole “be normal and don’t worry your family members” thing.

NO. No. They aren’t your family, get it through your thick blinding skull. THEY AREN'T YOUR FAMILY. You didn’t trick them into liking you, they’re just allies. Acquaintances.

You hear crashing through the bushes around you. You don’t move. Get it over with. Isa emerges, he’s scratched all over, there’s dirt on his face and clothes.

“Hey! Hey bud! Uhm, can we talk? Without you… running?” Stilted, he doesn’t know what to say. You nod, but stay sitting on the ground. He makes his way to you, you realize he’s barefoot. Oh, you are too. Makes sense.

“Hey, Sif. What’s up? Why did you run?” He’s a bit out of breath.

Why did you run? Because you ruined the only good thing happening to you? Because you violated someone? Because you’re incomprehensibly disgusting- no, it’s not worth the energy.

You just shrug.

Isa sighs and looks down. He wipes some sweat from his forehead. He’s standing over you. You’re steeling yourself, dulling your senses. Will he yell? Attack you? Just quietly say how disappointed he is? Whatever the outcome, you prepare yourself. You don’t get to show emotion here. You don’t deserve to.

“Did you want what happened last night?”

He’s… calm? Quiet? His voice is scratchy, worried, it scuffs through the air. Why is he not mad at you?

“Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry buddy?” He kneels next to you, his hand lands on your shoulder. He doesn’t hesitate this time. He always hesitates, he always chickens out. You flinch.

“I took advantage of you. Again.” To the point. You don’t get to avoid the truth here.

He… laughs? He laughs? HE LAUGHS?? You violated him and he LAUGHS ABOUT IT?

“Sif oh change, I’m so sorry! I don’t, haha, no! No you didn’t!” He squeezes your shoulder and sits down next to you. “I’m the one who grappled you in your sleep, I woke up absolutely horrified! Can you imagine!!?” He laughs again. You feel bitter. “Sif, I’m terrified that I took advantage of you! You gave me an inch on touching you and I wake up clinging to you? Crab, I was so worried you were going to hate me. Ugh.” He’s talking so quickly.

“But, but I saw you Sif, I saw how happy you looked in my, um. My arms. You wanted that, right?”

You give him a perplexed look, you can’t help it. He took advantage of you? How does that even?

“Sif, buddy. Get out of your own head, you have boundaries too, I was worried I overstepped those, even if it was in my sleep.”

You look down, shame wells within you.

“You want to be held, don’t you?”

You say nothing.

“Okay, let’s try that again. This time you say ‘Yes please Mr. Wonderful-amazing-funny-buff Isabeau!’”

“Do you want me to hold you?”

You mumble an answer. You feel stupid

“Mm, a bit too quiet to hear. Tell you what, Ill tell you something embarrassing too, that way, we’re even!”

You look at his face. His ridiculous, stupid, handsome face.

Everything feels less hopeless when he looks at you like that.

“Yes please Mr. Wonderful-amazing-funny-buff Isabeau.”

Stars that’s a dumb smile.

He clears his throat, and attempts to regain his composure. “Okay, why did I say that…” He clears his throat again. “Nobody else knows this, I’ll keep this a secret if you keep mine a secret, deal?”

You nod.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, and out. “Okay… um. Do you remember the week before we got to Dormont? Just after we got the last orb?”

You… don’t. You don’t remember that. Shake your head, don’t think about it too hard.

“We had just left that weird temple, the one with all the strange statues of the Change God. Everyone was exhausted, we faced some really strong sadnesses in there. I had… made the decision to confess to you when we finally conquered the temple”

You remember that! The last sadness gaurding the orb had been this massive reptillian creature, it’s scales were rough, you have a nasty scar on your stomach from that thing. While Mira and Odile searched for the Orb, Isa had pulled you aside. It didn’t make sense to you at the time, he was scared and sweating a lot. 

“I uh, pulled you aside when we finally got the orb and…” He sighs and brings one hand to his face, obscuring it. “Chickened out…”

A breath in, and out. He relaxes his shoulders.

“But then we got back on the road, everyone was in really high spirits. You had found that bottle of gin in the town before and decided this was the time to finally celebrate. We set up camp, you blacked out almost immediately. You don’t remember, I’m sure, but at one point you put your hat on Odile and declared her 'Queen of all that is boozy!’”

A laugh, a pause.

“Uh, after that entire fiasco, I was the one entrusted to your health, Odile didn’t want to risk another coronation, and Mira was busy with Bonnie. So I was the one comforting you while you threw up.” He laughs again.

“Are you sure this is an embarrassing story for you?”

“Yeah! Yeah, sorry, getting there.” He clears his throat. “After- after you were finished uh, emptying the tank… You looked at me and just… the look on your face. It was the same as when you look at the sky, you looked straight into me. It was… nice.” His face is a different shade. He pauses for a bit too long, then shakes his head to snap out of it.

“I uh. Sorta confessed then.” His face is in his hands. You don’t remember that. You should probably have remembered that.

“No! No no no, you were so out of it, no way you could’ve remembered that.”

“But I… didn’t just tell you how I felt. I read this whole… poem. About you. That I wrote. About- uh. You.”

Another pause. 

“And you looked at me, smiled and… threw up. That was pretty much the end of the night.”

He’s looking away from you. He feels shameful.

“Isa. Do you still have that poem?”

“Only sort of. But- but it’s not good or anything! It’s really bad and you wouldn’t like it at all and-”

“Isa I want to hear it. I think I would like it.”

You can hear his heart pumping from here. He makes eye contact with you for a second, just a second. You can see his heart in his eyes. He still has it memorized. 

“You’re gonna share it with me, someday.”

He nods, just barely.

You both sit in embarrassed silence.

“A-anyway! Moving on! We need to get you back to camp!” 

Isa scoops you up from the ground and starts carrying you back to camp. You stare at him, bewildered and horrified. 

“Sorry! Just, uh, not being a coward.” He is desperately avoiding eye contact with you. “Is this okay..?”

You turn away and meekly nod.

He takes you to the edge of camp and then sets you down. He awkwardly dusts off your shoulders, he’s still avoiding eye contact with you. You both walk through the camp back to your tent. Only Odile is up at this point, she just raises her eyebrow as you both pass, but says nothing.

Inside the tent Isa is immediately moving your bedroll next to his, he looks up at you. “Uhm, there’s still time before we get up… if you want to that is! I mean!” He immediately looks away. You may as well put him out of his misery, you lay down on the bedroll and look at him, expectantly. Or, as expectantly as you can with one eye. He lays down next to you, with an awkward amount of space between the two of you. He’s stiff and anxious, you can hear his heart pounding from here.

You aren’t much better, you’re essentially a plank, entirely unrelaxed. You both stare at the ceiling.

“Yeah I may not know what I’m doing.” He’s the first to break the silence.

“Me neither. Do we just… cuddle?” You try to remember the last time you cuddled someone, no memories come to mind.

“I think so?” He awkwardly shuffles closer to you. An arm shoots into your personal space, it lands on your shoulder. You both make eye contact. “Just. Bear with me.”

“You look so ~grizzled~ right now.”

“Change, that was terrible, Siffrin.”

It wasn't your best work, you stick your tongue out and beam at him. His hand on your shoulder tightens as he pulls you into him. You flinch, your body pulsing. It’s slow, too slow. This is taking too long.

“Uh, Sif, you okay?”

What? Why isn't he holding you? Why did he stop?

You stare at him. His eyes are wide, his face pinched.

“What? Yeah, fine.”

“Just, buddy, your face. You look like you’re in pain. I’ve barely touched you. Are you sure you want this?”

Okay, note to self. Control your face better around Isa, or you’ll ruin everything. Force your face into something normal and try again. What was your line?

Stars, you’re back to the lines again. Okay.

“Just a lot. But I’m fine!” A plaster smile forms on your face. You feel a little sick. Influencing him again, controlling him, tailoring each word you say just to appease him.

“Sif, no you aren’t. I know when you fake a smile.” No he doesn’t, you got 167 loops of fake smiles past him. Well, except for that one time. Okay, 166.

You feel a convulsion start from the bottom of your left heel, run up your leg, your spine, and out your right arm. You visibly squirm and shudder. You realize that he can see you. He can see how needy you are, how desperate, how hungry. You’re pathetic. He hates you, he will always hate you. You want him to rip into your body with his hands and he will hate you for that.

“Do you need space?” His hand leaves your shoulder. Yes! Haha! Yeah! Why not! Just leave, leave like everything will! Why wait? Why drag it out, just to hurt more? Rip it off now! You’re disgusting and he hates you! Why pretend otherwise! Why keep up the stage play? A howl almost escapes, it would’ve been such a great haunting laugh. Shame.

Now would be a fantastic time to use your dagger.

You would bleed on him for one, but more importantly, you’d leave him! What a refreshing change of pace! Oh that power would be so delicious, you’d finally get to be a memory someone else forgets! Nobody could ever leave you again!

“Sif! Siffrin!” He’s yelling your name, stars it sounds so sweet on his tongue, what a good actor, playing his role so well.

There’s laughter filling the tent, maybe. Could be sobs too, you're not entirely sure. Isa grabs your other shoulder and hovers above you, he’s yelling something. You hate this, you hate seeing him domineer over you. Something about a constellation pops into your head. Stars, you need to use your dagger. You know where it is, you know exactly how long it would take to reach it and cut. If you pushed Isa off you could make it, and he wouldn’t be fast enough to stop you. You have the element of surprise! You-

You’re plotting your own suicide. And you won’t loop. Not again.

Boiling hot liquid is streaming down your face, your eye stings, ululations spring from your mouth. Two scraggly arms reach for Isa’s sides, he reacts quickly and grapples you. He doesn't hesitate, he always hesitates. He’s holding you impossibly tight, you feel his pulse thundering against you and his chest ragged. Maybe that’s your own, in all honesty you can’t tell which body is yours right now.

One arm is wrapped around your body, the other is clutching your head, petting your hair. There are whispers in the air, you doubt they’re from you, you still can’t stop howling. A hand lands on your head, another on your shoulder, a final tugs at your arm.

Chapter Text

You’re all around the fire, Bonnie is cooking lunch over it. Something that smells like ash, but you think that’s just because you can’t taste anymore.

They’re all looking at you, watching you, observing their captured animal. Your chest hurts, your eye still stings, there’s a thrumming in the air, your head, everywhere. You won’t make eye contact with any of them, you can’t.

Mira had brought your journal out of the tent, it’s sitting idly on your lap. Odile says that you can compose what you need to say. You need to do something, your body is full of stitches and porcelain chips, sitting here is only making things worse.

Nobody says anything. You appreciate that. They always give you time, you appreciate it. Everyone else rushes you constantly. It’s nice to just take your time and breathe.

But, you aren’t breathing? Not focused anyway. Your breaths are still detained, something warm sparks inside you.

You’re able to muster a large breath in, and out.

Checklist, unclench your shoulders, a wave of tightness leaves your body. Taste deeply what’s in your mouth, dirt and skin. Move, something, anything, the journal shifts to your hands. Breathe in, and out. The silver coin isn’t on you, but you can hear it crackling, even hidden in the tent.

You press two fingers to the side of the journal and it unlocks, you open to the next blank page. Breathe in, and out. You hesitate. Odile let’s out an “Oh” the first bit of anything that you’ve actually been able to hear. She takes a step towards you. You place your hand on the page and begin to mold it into your words.

“Shame, it is bright and hot and stronger than me sometimes
Dark valley, old bones,
Those that still have rage in them,
Sand and tungsten grit replaced the marrow.
Radiation and clones of myself rove
They are more handsome than I,
Better defined, fitting a cleaner mold, with scars in different places.
Those once human, able to look into a mirror and see something recognizable look back,
Something dazzling looking back..
You- no, we will leave the desert,
Water in tow,
And you will devour that marrow swill of lightless sand and sear.”

You write some various other thoughts, but you don’t read over them, you just close the book. They’re all watching you, waiting. You can feel their impatience bubble, it always does, for everyone. You need to say something, something important, and soon.

Breathe in, and out. Control it better. You can do this. Roll your shoulders.

“I don’t like not knowing what’s going to happen anymore. I… I had everything you all did memorized, I had a script that was really easy to follow. I never talk much already, but knowing exactly what to say and what was coming made it easier, it took a lot less fear.”

“But- but I hate that. I hate that I liked it. I trapped everyone in an infinite prison and nearly destroyed the world and I’m upset I don’t know what to say anymore? How ridiculous is that! All your conversations should mean the world to me but I still find myself zoning out, I still find myself going to my ‘lines’ knowing that they used to work- might work again.”

You stop, breathe in, and out.

“I know you all forgive me but I don’t think you should, I don’t understand how you could. You, you all were… I treated you all like actors, over and over again, loop after loop. I got upset when you stopped following your lines, when my face started to betray me. I’m. I’m scared of that. I’m scared I sometimes still think of you as actors.”

“I know none of you remember any of it, you all say forgive me but you don’t know. You don’t know how many times I twisted conversations to get what I needed, how many times I skipped important things because I knew it would cause people to talk, and that would take time. And that despite having literally infinite time I still got impatient, I started to loop just to save time. And what time?! What time did I save!? I saved nothing, I’m so impatient and worthless that I couldn’t talk to my fa-friends because it took too much time.”

Okay that’s enough feelings, you can stop now.

“If you all knew! Just knew how bad it got! How bad it all was! How terrible I acted!! If you could remember! If you could see what I see whenever I close my eyes!”

Shut up, Siffrin. You’ve said enough. They don’t need to hear it.

“You’d hate me!! Hahaha! You’d despise me, you’d understand how disgusting I am, and then you’d all see! See me for what I really am! See past the character I put on all the time just to get you all to like me!”

STOP. TALKING.

“And then you’d leave! You’d all give up on disgusting Siffrin and leave! And then I’d be alone! Again! Again and again it always happens! You’d forget me! Everyone- EVERYTHING forgets me!!”

A croak emanates, and then a pained gasp for air, you did it again. You upset your friends. Another gasp, followed by sobs, loud. A deathrattle, an inaudible wheeze between the wails. You made them cry. You can’t tell who it is, and you refuse to look up at them.

Great job Siffrin.

Shuffles, with urgency. You probably made Bonnie cry and they’re going to comfort them. You would. You should, but.

A hand lands on your shoulder, forcefully. You don’t flinch, you convulse, a wave of pain shoots across your body, and then a roil of warmth follows it. Then cold. You remind yourself that you’re the villain right now.

More throaty howls, screeches and horrid sniffling. The hand on your shoulder wraps to your back, another solidifies against your other side. You’re being hugged. You can feel the offender rise and fall, slowly. Pressure builds against you, then dissipates, then builds again, then dissipates. They’re breathing, trying to get you to breathe with them.

You force an inhale, it’s stifled and muted, then an exhale. Much too quick, like a furnace bellows. A pat lands on your back, then a circular rub, clockwise. You like when it’s clockwise.

More pained crying, it’s interrupted by your breaths. Oh. You’re the one yowling.

Another breath, and another.

Okay Siffrin, you’ve embarrassed yourself enough. Run through your checklist.

You drop your shoulders, you go limp against the hugger. You feel the top of your head, down your face, into your chest, down each arm and back again, then to your stomach. A swirl, and you continue to your legs, ending at your heels, which you affix into the dirt. A breath in, and out. The coin is laughing at you from the tent.

Your howling has stopped, now you can hear something much worse. They’re all talking to you, overlapping and interrupting each other. But it’s quiet, whispers and soothes, four different lullabies slew into your ears.

Your name, over and over, it’s okay, we love you, it's okay, we aren’t going to leave.

The hug tightens and then pulls away, a piece of you screams for them to stay, but you suppress it.

Your eyesight is full of Isabeau, a weak smile is on his face. His hand moves to your cheek, his thumb slides between your face and hair. He says something. More whispers. You bring your hands up to your face, you want to hide. It’s wet. You wipe your nose and quiver.

“Sorry.”

Pitiful.

More whispers, more lullabies.

Isabeau glances to the side, then pulls his hand away. He moves out of your vision. He leaves. Please come back.

Mira sits in front of you. Her hand clasps yours.

“Siffrin.”

You don’t meet her eyes. The other whispers stop.

“We forgave you because it wasn’t all your fault. We didn’t reach out when we should’ve. We saw that you weren’t doing well and didn’t check in with you for every single loop, however many of those there were. You were alone because of that, you were alone because- because of us. It’s our fault too.”

She squeezes your hand. The world is falling apart.

“And we’re going to forgive you again, and again, and again. Because you aren’t alone anymore, you’re with your family.”

You snap up, did she just..?

“What you went through was really hard, and none of us want you to deal with it all alone. It’s okay if you aren’t okay with everything for a bit, if you feel conflicted about it. It was scary and hard and you were alone. We just need you to talk about it, to let us know what’s going on.”

You shake your head a bit. You don’t need them to know, it would just hurt them. A crushing vise appears in your head.

“Siffrin, we want you to talk about it. We want you to share, you need to. Right, Madame?”

“Oh, uhm. Yes. Siffrin, you need to talk about these things to get better, and we want to know what happened. We’re a… family. And we support each other. You know that you would do the same, correct?”

You would, you would do anything for them. Your dead eye pulses.

“So, don’t be so upset when you have to rely on us. We rely on you.” Odiles' hand lands on your back, you’re too stunned to flinch.

You nod.

Eventually, everyone returns to their seats, the air is gravid with silence, you can feel everyone's eyes flick towards you. Mira stays next to you, occasionally rubbing your shoulder.

Your chest is full of smoldering fire, porcelain chips, and coiled rope. A slurry of heat and stone that swims throughout your body. Good and bad, disgusting and loved, hated and embraced, mirth and woe. Your eye burns, then your back, your lungs, your head, your legs, your hands, and all back again.

Bonnie is handing out food, they reheated some more of the stew, bourguignon you think it’s called. A bowl to Odile, Isa, Mira. Bonnie stops in front of you, they won’t meet your eyes. You don’t blame them. They set the bowl next to you and leap.

Small arms are wrapped around you, a pause, and you return the embrace.

A muffled. “I love you, Frinn.” Emanates from your cloak, you hug a bit tighter in recognition.

The hug breaks, they hand you the bowl, it’s hot to the touch.

“I know endless school was really hard, but you’re not in endless school now, so it doesn’t need to be hard anymore.”

They pause, shift uncomfortably in place, then run back to their seat, next to Odile.

The stew in your hands swirls and rocks, back and forth, back and forth. You think about a cradle, and take a spoonful of it.

It tastes like wine and beef.

Chapter Text

Everyone else decided on your behalf to not travel today. Which would be fine, if not for the overwhelming babysitting you must endure. Isa is hovering around you, it’s his shift to do so. Mira did it before, Odile before that. You tell yourself you don’t notice. Your hands are busy with carving, this is probably the best time you’ll ever get to actually carve something in relative peace.

The block of wood you’ve shaped is slowly forming into something else, you haven’t planned it, so you’re just letting the form inside break free. There’s a pile of shavings on your cloak, powdered down your legs and building on the ground around you.

These new tools are working well, you sharpened them as needed. The wood isn’t your first choice, but it’s doing the job.

Isa coughs, he’s pretending to read a book as an excuse to stay in your general area. You should probably feel cared for. Probably.

A flare in your body. That isn’t fair. Your teeth are clenched, your knife presses down with more force. I’m not a child. A scrap flings past your carefully-whittled drop zone. I don’t need to be babysat. The wood and tools dig into your hands. You scrape deeper. Deeper. A chunk of wood flies off. Isa turns his page.

Deeper.

The chips at your feet welcome the liquid dripping into them, they soak it and darken.

Breathe in, and out.

There’s a slice across the back of your hand.

Your thoughts fizzle before you can grab them.

Your anger compresses into a lining, a coat of paint across your whole body. It dries, hardens, and solidifies. The rest of you empties.

The blood on your hand drips and flows down your arm. Your lightless clothes cannot be stained.

Hollow.

You keep carving. Can’t make a big deal of this, that’ll prove them right.

The carving block gets stained, you cut out the impurity.

A shake of your hand and the blood flings off. You wipe against your clothes, the liquid disappears into them. Should be fine, put your glove back on.

Quiet. Control.

Your journal opens, words form on the page.

“In control, for once

Dark and light marks on my hand

I’m not very hungry

In control, for once

About one thing, in control over one thing. One really important thing”

You shut the journal and sigh.

There’s a carving of a hand in front of you, set into the pile of chips. It has seven fingers, two thumbs, and a slice across the back of it. Its fingers are twisted into a beckon.

“What did you do?”

He saw the blood, Isa saw it. There’s contempt in his voice, not just in your head. It’s in his voice. You cut yourself and he’s going to be mad at the failure you are.

You shrug.

“Don’t shrug at me, what did you do?”

You pull the glove off and present the hand. Your face is down, you really wish you had your hat to hide behind. You don’t look Isa in the face. You’re a villain and he is mad at you.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Isa has yelled at you. It took approximately 8 freakouts, six months of travel, and 334 days of manipulating and controlling him. You pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed until you got what you wanted. And you have it! HE YELLED AT YOU.

Apologize.

“Sorry.” Forced and level. The resin shell around your empty skin remains resolute. You feel nothing.

“Wassat Sif?”

(...)

“Sif, you say something?”

Isa is laying in the grass, leaning against a rock. He’s holding his book down, looking at you. His face is soft, his eyes are warm. He is distinctly not yelling at you.

“Uh, just. Um. Cut my hand- said ow.”

“Oh! Bud, I’m sorry, is it bad? Need Mira to heal it?” Isa has stood up, set his book face down into the grass, and walked to you. He takes your hand in his and turns it over. Blood has dried by now.

“I’m sorry Sif, just stay right here! I’m gonna nab you a bandage.”

He leaves. Your casing hardens.

(...)

Back, he wraps your hand in a bandage. He leans down, pauses, and then kisses the top of it.

His throat clears. “All better! Can I see what you carved?”

He picks up the hand carving and investigates it quizzically.

“Is it… a sadness?”

“...”

“I’ve definitely seen sadnesses with exaggerated features, kinda like this.”

He sets it down.

“It’s impressive! Hands are crazy hard to sculpt, especially with extra bits like this.”

He sits down on your left and grabs your un-hurt hand.

“Sif I’m not-”

A breath.

“Sif I’m not gonna keep pretending you are doing okay right now. What’s wrong?”

He squeezes your hand.

“Just us, nobody else. Do you need to breathe with me?”

He starts to breathe in, and out. Your body follows his form.

“Yeah, you can do this! You’re okay, you’re safe. I’m not upset with you at all Sif, I’m not upset you cut your hand. Just talk to me?”

“...”

“Buddy I’m not going anywhere, nothing you say would make me leave right now.”

“...”

“Just one thing? Doesn’t have to be the big problem going on right now, what’s one thing bothering you?”

“...”

His arms wrap around your body.

He squeezes you.

Your casing cracks.

You’re scared, you’re so scared. You hurt yourself and you’re scared. What if you do it again? What if you do it worse? What if you escalate? What if you leave him? What if you cut yourself again? What do you do if you cut yourself and can’t bring yourself to talk about it and you do it again and again and it’s worse and worse and you keep feeling nothing and you lose control and hurt yourself beyond repair and you can’t hide it anymore and you can’t get help anymore and you leave everyone else and all they ever did was love you and you love them but you hurt yourself too many times to be something capable of love and you’re dead bleeding and broken because you didn’t get help what if you-

He squeezes again.

Your skin shatters.

“I did it on purpose and I’m scared I’m sorry Isa I’m so sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean to I just did I just did it and I’m scared I’m going to do it again I’m so sorry please help me.”

He puts his hand on the back of your head and holds you.

His shoulder is wet with your tears, snot, and drool. He rubs your back softly, clockwise. You like it clockwise.

“It’s okay Sif, it’s okay.”

“I did it during the loops, It was like second nature. I would cut and loop back when I needed to skip something or got stuck I would kill myself and just loop back, I got good at it, what would take the least time, less time I had to watch you all scared.”

He crushes you with his arms, you meld into his chest.

“I’ve wanted to do it too since I got out of the loops, sometimes as reflex but other times as-”

“Just.”

“Real. Sometimes it’s real.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry.”

You feel his body shudder, a wetness blooms across your shoulder. His grip tightens. He mumbles something, but it’s lost entirely in the warm resonations from his chest.

He’s never going to let you go, he’s never going to leave you.

You’re both making a promise right now, bound by your tears mixing- He is never going to leave. You are never going to leave. He will always love you. You will always love him.

He says some things, you answer some questions. He knows about the banana, the number of loops, the tears, your dagger, the King, Bonnie.

He knows and he does not let go.

He is never going to let you go.

(...)

Your journal is open, your left hand rested on a page.

“Little Maie, it was a name given to me by my grandfather I think? Odile said that I had mentioned him at one point. She offered her journals to me for review, but I declined. I want to write my own.

Antaris, the north star. You can find your position wherever you are with it, sailors used to follow it at sea. Other cultures are apparently unfamiliar with it, I don’t know how they navigate in the dark.

I know I only matter in the first four hours of each day.
Before I can feel the smoldering fire, porcelain chips, and coiled rope.
That slurry of heat and stone that swims throughout my body.
Good and bad, disgusting and loved, hated and embraced,
Mirth and woe.
My eye burns, then my back, my lungs, head, legs, hands, and all back again.
I will bury him, mourn for the appropriate amount of time, and go on.
His sepulcher will rot, stew and fester
Vines and leaves will spring out of it
Reclaiming his bones and marrow,
Dissolving his eye, his hands, that tic he used to do with his coin, his body, and the rest of him too, eventually
I will grow, continue growing, I am alive,
Alive. Alive. Alive.
I feel more sure now than I used to,
But it’s a quite sure. A winter sure.
I was born this time of year, in the snow
Like a foal, one with more hands and eyes than normal.
And I crawled and skittered, gnashed and cried
Until I peeled off my skin, shed and molt
And bathed in the night, with vervain and bourbon.
Petals stuck into the crevices of my arms, eyes, and chitin.
I am a baleful thing,
A heap of limbs, shell, and sound.
Once human, able to look in a mirror and see…

Myself.
And my family.

Thank you Mira for the safety of a family, thank you Odile for helping me remember my life, thank you Bonnie for understanding me, thank you Isa for loving me and… Showing me I deserve to be loved too.

Okay, that’s sappy enough. I need to be at least a little mysterious and brooding.”

You close the book and sigh.

The stars are above you.

You asked Isa if you could sleep outside tonight, you told him you sort of hate the tents because they block out the stars. You asked him to do something and you told him about your feelings. How..?

But he obliged, not only that, he was excited for it. He was excited that you were talking about what you wanted. About what you wanted. He fashioned a pair of hammocks and had them set up within the hour.

Yours is above his, which seems only fair.

The night is quiet, Isa had to share what you had told him with the rest of the party. Rest of the… Family. The rest of your family. He asked your permission first, you know it was a formality, he had to tell them. But you still appreciate him. He knows what you want and don’t want, he knows how to communicate with you. He knows what things are hard to say, and he makes it easier.

He… sees you. He sees who you are, as Siffrin.

The stars sway in the wind, back and forth, you’re in a bassinet. You open your eye and love and family is all you see.

You dream about yourself.

Chapter Text

The darkness again. You want it to warp and twist, undulate in the face of sound and light. It doesn’t. It is endlessly stationary. It is whole and unbroken and overwhelming. Your body crackles. You review your star-cursed body again.

Pin pricks on your head, spikes and shards. Your body is a fizzling condensation of light. You look at your feet.

The meadow of Dormont is below you.

That blinding meadow.

167 times you had to see that meadow.

You hate that meadow.

It should burn, be ripped up and torn apart.

Sparks fly off your body, you feel singed. Pops and crackles emulate from your throat as you try to speak.

The Universe rises in front of you.

The aberrational conglomerate of fingers and hands and eyes.

She does not speak.

But she watches.

Your body sizzles in fear, your limbs become undone and your chest glows with a steady luminosity.

“Stardust.”

Not- not from her. Not from the Universe.

You follow the voice, to your left.

There is Siffrin.

But you’re Siffrin?

There is Siffrin, standing in the darkness. He has his cloak on, there is a smear of blood on its right side. His hat is missing, his right hand is bandaged. His face is tired, cold, dark.

You had felt that cut, you had bled on your cloak, that was you. You did that. But your hand is whole, your body is clean, your face is bright.

“What did you do?”

Your throat hums a frequency in response. You cannot talk.

“WHAT DID YOU DO STARDUST? WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Siffrin is charging at you. Stepping onto solid darkness. He clambers onto the meadow and it shifts like chalk.

“I REMEMBER! YOU MADE ME REMEMBER. HOW?!”

He has stopped his charge, his dagger drawn. No- it isn’t. Your dagger was confiscated. Odile took it from you.

A shock, he drops the dagger, it phases unceremoniously through the darkness. He stares at his hand

Then to his body, his arms and legs. He frantically confirms what he sees with touch, his hands are clawing at his face. He is inert in stunned realization.

“I’m… Siffrin. I am Siffrin.”

He flexes his fingers, opens his mouth wide and licks his teeth. He rips his eyepatch off, looks at it, and throws it into the void.

“What did you do to me…?”

Your body buzzes, words are lost into cold space. You are a star, you do not know how to talk.

The darkness creaks as the Universe roars.

A hand lands between the two of you.

You look to her.

An eye blinks.

And your body shatters into pieces.

You descend into the meadow, fragments and shrapnel.

Siffrin is reaching for you, he catches a shard. He yells something.

You land in the grass, some of you in the trees, a piece falls into the river.

And you wake-

Chapter Text

Your eye opens to a clear Dormont sky.

The sky, the meadow. You’re awake in the meadow.

You jolt up, the ground wobbles below you.

You’re in a hammock, you’re in a hammock, you aren’t in the meadow you aren’t in the meadow.

Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe.

It’s okay, it’s okay you beat the King, it’s okay.

You breathe in, and out.

Your legs swing out of the hammock, you peer down to the grass below, Isa is swinging gently beneath you, his hammock placed lower on the tree. He’s still sleeping gently, you probably couldn't get out without waking him.

You could, easily. But you don’t want to. He set it up like this to keep watch on you, you don’t want to worry him.

You kick back and forth and the hammock rocks, you craft open your journal and go over your entries. Sheesh, a lot of drama in here.

Today you’ll be traveling again, this is the last day in the wilderness, tomorrow you’ll end in Bambouche.

And…

And that’s okay. You’re okay with that.

Bonnie will probably leave your party at that point. You can’t travel with them forever.

They have school, a family to be a part of, a community that needs them.

You all might stay in Bambouche for a bit, but you can’t live there. Everyone else has their own lives to continue.

Odile needs to connect to her family, Mira needs to act on things that she wants, Isa needs to…

You’re hoping you can convince Isa to take you along wherever he goes. But-

But he might not. You aren’t exactly a stellar partner- or whatever you are right now.

Hah, stellar. Save that one for later.

“Hey Isa..?”

He shifts a bit, but you didn’t wake him.

“I think he’s out cold Siffrin.”

Odile, she’s sitting near the snuffed fire, a book closed next to her. She’s probably been watching you since you woke up. Wow, you are a terrible rouge sometimes, huh?

“Whatever permission you’re looking for to scrabble down from there, I give to you.” She does a minor bow. You’re jealous of Odiles comedic prowess.

You heft yourself out of the hammock, onto the adjoining tree, and down its bark. You escape the ‘prison’ without a scratch. You join Odile at the fire pit.

“No eyepatch huh? Haven’t seen you take that off since you got it.”

Your hand reaches for your hurt eye, the scar tissue is rough on your fingers.

“Not a reason to put it on again, but you should be prepared for Boniface’s reaction to it.”

You nod. You don’t remember removing the patch… You reach into your pockets to find it again. Your pockets are far lighter now, dagger and carving tools kept away from you. A journal, a carving of a hand, and a… sharp rock?

You procure the new item, it’s a glossy piece of obsidian, pointed at both ends, a small spire of stone. No- wait. This isn’t obsidian, there are glims under its surface, small pricks of light show through.

“Something interesting?”

“Yeah uh… ever seen a glowing rock before?”

“A pun this early in the day? This is a weak premise.”

“No- look.” You present the stone to Odile, she inspects in, then takes it in her hand cautiously. Rotating it she observes it from all angles.

“Gems… it does glow. Is this some feat of craft?”

“No clue, I just… found it.”

“Hm. Well keep me apprised of its details when you figure them out.” She hands the stone back to you, you slip it into its new pocket.

This would be a good time to start more of that liquid. You busy yourself with the preparations, Odile watches quietly, her book still set closed next to her.

You light the fire and it crackles with its newfound life.

“So Siffrin…” She breathes in, and out. “How are you this morning?”

She means to say ‘are you going to be honest with your feelings now?’ But you still appreciate the obfuscation.

“Not great. A lot of… shame about what happened. Yesterday, I mean.”

She just nods. You’ve set the cast iron on the fire now, it’s warming.

“And just… tomorrow we’ll get to Bambouche.”

A pause. “And you aren’t ready to say goodbye to Boniface?”

“I don’t know. They need to go back to their home, be with their family. Go back to school. I can’t keep them from that just because I’m insecure.”

“Are we not their family?”

“Not in the way Pétronille is.”

“Mm, you might be right in that.”

The beans are spread onto the fire now, slowly darkening. You absentmindedly stir.

Neither of you speak while the beans start to crack. You continue with the process.

“Siffrin we both have…” Odile pauses and squints her face. A sigh.

“We both have stressed relationships with our homes- to say the least. I much less than you, but.”

She breathes in, and out.

“I think I better understand your desire to keep us together than the others. Maybe not so much in reference to a preteen but, nonetheless.”

You begin to crush the beans, applying your body weight onto a large stone.

“All that to say, Boniface is our family. We will be important to them regardless of where we are, they will be important to us regardless of where they are. Our relationship might change, but they will always be a member of our family.”

You hold up a rock sign, the stones crack and move. Odile pauses.

“Uh- but.” She clears her throat. “I think that means something. We’re never really going to be truly alone, we will always have family, amongst all of us.”

You ask for two pieces of paper and begin to craft them, Odile watches in silence.

“You’re right.” You sigh, running your fingers across the pages as you pull and shape them into a filter. “It’s just… What if I had the same relationship with my old family? What if you’re all taken away the same way? I’m a forgettable person, what if you all forget me?”

She holds her hand out for the filter, you provide it and she begins scrutinizing it.

“We won’t. But, more importantly, memory is more than just what you hold in your mind. The world will remember the actions you’ve taken. Vaugarde is saved, and always will be saved, thanks to you. Even if people don’t remember your name, your actions will always be there.”

You take back the filter and set it into a carafe, you begin your brewing process. Keeping in mind your updated recipe. 55 seconds to start…

“That applies to us too, if you haven’t noticed, we all have started to copy your breathing technique. I imagine you got that from a family member too, is that not a form of remembering? Or the carvings you make us, the recipes Boniface learns, Mirabelles relationship with change, Isabeaus strength. And my… my ability to have a family. Those are because of you, they won’t go away just because you might.”

You pour yourself and Odile a mug of the brew. You hold hers out to her.

“Not to mention, my tastebuds are forever ruined because of whatever this liquid is.” She ruffles your hair, and then takes the cup.

You nod solemnly.

“You’re more memorable than you think, Siffrin.” She takes a drink, loudly slurping it.

You enjoy the rest of the morning together in relative quiet.

The others join you eventually.

They don’t mention your bare eye, but you notice Bonnie doesn’t look at you far more.

(...)

The road is rough right now, but you know you’ll reach stone paths again soon. Bambouche is close. Bonnie will finally get to see Pétronille, and your family will change. Change is… good, isn’t it? You might want to talk to Mira about it. Maybe she has a pamphlet or something.

The trip is uneventful, Bonnie is leading behind you, they still won’t look at you.

Night falls soon enough, Isa sets up your hammocks again, Bonnie is crafting something special over the fire, and Mira is sharing the newest chapter of her book with Odile. You’re largely alone, which has not been a feeling you’ve experienced since yesterday. You’re unsure what to do with this newfound freedom.

You pull out the sharp stone you found earlier, inspect it, holding it up to the sky. It’s the same, like you have a fragment of space in your hands. It rests on your palm, the glowing intensifies a bit.

It shocks you.

You drop it on reflex, it lands into the grass below you and begins to twitch. Sparks fly off of it, the glowing deepens. You pick it up again, it might cause a fire. It singes your gloves but you hold onto it. It’s still cool to the touch.

The rock thrums.

“Starduuuuust!~”

Oh stars.

“Teehee, looks like I finally got your attention! And you had me confused with your poor fighter last time. Oh how you wound me!”

You heavily consider just chucking the stone into the wilds.

Do you… respond out loud? Can they hear you? How does this work?

“I can hear you Stardust! I can hear all your thoughts when you focus on the shard. It’s really noisy in here, you should journal more!”

You don’t need advice on how to feel better from an even-more repressed version of yourself.

“D’aw, is that really what you think of me? I thought we had something special.~”

Right, they can hear everything. Apparently.

“Sure can! You really need to stop thinking about the fighters muscles you know, you might give me the wrong idea!”

Sorry..? What you really want to know is why Loop is reaching out to you.

“Because, Stardust! Despite being nicely rid of you, you’re still somehow messing with me! I keep remembering things that never happened to me! Little glimpses into a worse Siffrins life. And this morning I woke up literally missing a piece of myself, so thank you for that.”

This is a piece of Loop..? You never got to feel their body before, it’s cold and solid. Like they’re made of earth.

You aren’t doing anything that should be messing with their memories, you haven’t made any wishes, done any rituals, or even thought about them much.

“Oh but you are, Stardust! Every blinding night I've been forced into a stupor and made to watch your failures. You know, you really should figure out how to talk back to the Universe, she’d appreciate the dialogue. Stars know she doesn’t get it from me.”

Back to the… Universe? Have you been meeting the Universe?

“Oh here we go again, everyone's favorite dense rogue, did you forget again?~ Like you always do?~”

How do you forget meeting the Universe? That seems like a huge lapse.

“It sure is! You should feel ashamed. The Universe has been granting you an audience, choosing you with all her celestial power and you forgot it!”

Loop laughs at you over the connection, your ears singe, you thought you were done with them.

“Done with me? You’re the one who’s done with me? No. I’m the one who’s done with you. Forced to help you as a punchline to a cosmic joke. I’ve lost my family, my home, my entire body. You don’t get to be done with me.”

Loop is-

“And don’t you DARE finish that thought, you don’t get to pity me.”

…

Loop doesn’t say anything for a bit, the rock pulses quickly, and then eventually slows. Like breathing.

“Just a tip, next time you see the Universe you need to wish to be able to speak with her.”

A sigh, you think? How do sighs work via telepathy?

“Till next time Stardust!~”

The rock falls inert in your hand and you pocket it. Easily not the conversation you were expecting to have today. You’ve met the Universe..? And Loop has been getting your memories? Could the obverse be true?

Your leg flashes a quick pain. Was that how you met them?

You stand, deliberate in your next action, you make your way to Mira and Odile.

“Sorry to interrupt book club but I have something important to ask.”

Oh that is- that is just a foul taste in your mouth. You walked up and interrupted them? That’s a bit selfish.

“Uh- sorry. You guys are doing your own thing, sorry for bothering you, I should’ve thought more…”

“WHAT! No! No no no! Siffrin please! Talk to us, you’re more important than a silly book!” Mira quickly slams her book shut and tosses it to the side, Odile sighs, she was reading that page.

“Yes, Siffrin. What do you have to say?”

Okay this is… weird. Initiating conversation, not your forte.

“Uhm, how did we meet?”

“Are you asking this because of something else that’s important? Or did you forget?” Odile squints her eyes.

“Both..?”

“And are you going to tell us about what’s really going on?”

“Maybe.” You nod vigorously.

Odile sighs. Mira picks up the rest of the conversation.

“Well! We all met you shortly after finding Odile, I think it was the next day even. If I remember… you were helping run a fruit stand for some reason?”

Odile nods. “Yes, you were helping out with odd jobs, and decided that a random fruit stand desperately needed a worker. We had just entered Kalerrha, it was half frozen at the time.”

Mira continues. “I remember what made you stand out! A sadness had made its way into town, but you just kept trying to sell fruit to us? It was a very strange reaction to the chaos around you. We went to attack the sadness, defending the city, next thing I knew you were leaping over us, finishing the sadness with one hit. You did a dramatic pose and said… oh what did you say…”

Odile drops her shoulders and sighs. “Enough with the rowdy customers, I’ve gotta draw the ~lime!~”

Mira chuckles. “That was it! Change that was sooo terrible. I thought you maybe were waiting there just for that line, but then you kept trying to sell us fruit. We eventually walked away with you and a satchel of limes.”

Odile reestablishes the tone of the conversation. “And we are not going to remind Isabeau of this story, okay? Last time we did he laughed for an hour and then made lime jokes for a week.”

You… don’t remember that at all. You thought you met them in the forest at night. You have a scar to prove it… Do you? But that pun is pretty exemplary, some of your best work. There’s no way that isn’t your backstory. Unless…

“Do I… have a scar on my leg?”

“Siffrin if this ends up as a lime pun I will craft lock you into an airless paper cube and drop you into the sea.”

“No, really. Do I have a scar on my leg? From that fight when we met? Or maybe shortly after when we were camping at night?”

Both Mira and Odile shake their heads, they recall nothing of the sort.

“You were definitely stronger than us for a while after meeting, took Isa and I a while to catch up to you. No sadness could touch you until…”

Odile finishes Mira’s sentence. “Until you took a hit for Bonnie. That set you back a ways, especially when you were recuperating. But no leg related wounds come to my memory.”

You can’t take this anymore, you don’t know what to trust. You roll up your pant leg to check yourself.

Clean, nicked in places, bruised in others, but no large scar like you remember.

So this is Loops memory… how do you have it?

Odile pauses, she’s giving you time to catch up.

“What is this about Siffrin?”

Mira nods, encouraging Odiles' questioning.

How do you even explain this? Loop is you, but… nobody else knows that, you can’t tell them. Loop would probably kill you, and you don’t want to make it harder for them, you want them to approach the group at their own pace. If they even want to.

“I can’t talk about it. Not- not yet at least.”

“Siffrin-” Odile starts, there’s accusation in her voice. She won’t let what happened yesterday happen again.

“Please, this isn’t something I can share yet, it’s not up to me. Just give me some time?”

Odile grumbles, arms crossed.

“Sure Siffrin, but you will talk to us, okay?” Mira speaks on their behalf.

You nod. You will, you just need to figure out how first.

The rest of the night is uneventful, everyone returns to their regularly scheduled Siffrin observation. You busy yourself with your journal, recounting today's events with Loop. Keep track of your memories like this, what’s yours and isn’t. How you met the party is the first entry to this list. Nothing else stands out as not yours.

No poem this time, you still feel hollow and rattled.

You erased the one you wrote yesterday, the one about control. You tore the page out and threw it into the fire. Nobody asked why.

You’re scared of what you’ll write if you let yourself. This is probably what Odile would describe as “bottling up” your emotions.

But you’re scared of your emotions.

You’re scared of those emotions.

It’s best not to dwell on them, you decide.

Bonnie doles out the final round of soup, they’ll make something special tomorrow night to celebrate arriving in Bambouche.

You all enjoy the last night under the stars, you think you do more than the others. You shouldn’t, you should be doing the worst right now, that’s essentially what your role to follow is now. But… It’s hard. It’s hard to be mopey all the time, it’s hard to resist Isa’s infectious laugh, Mira’s genuine care, Odiles harsh jokes, and Bonnies food. Even if Bonnie won’t look at you still.

Maybe you should ask Isa for another eyepatch.

Maybe… your hand rests on the scar. You don’t even know what it looks like, you’ve never seen it. It didn’t seem that important, or you were just too repressed to do anything about it. Either way, your eyepatch is lost.

It’s late, douse the fire, crawl into a hammock, look at the stars- hope that you can remember them one day.

Fall asleep, eventually.

Dream about the Universe.

Chapter Text

But you don’t. You don’t dream about the Universe. She must not want to see you yet.

You don’t face the same symbol, her manifold of eyes and hands, you don’t see Siffrin, you don’t see Loop. Your body is corporeal, you have a real influence on this scape. There’s the darkness, sure. But it’s a different darkness now, no longer the absorbing and total void. You have control over it, it will warp and bend to your means.

Instead of that endless incomparable darkness, you see a puppet. A blank canvas of lightless material, ripe for your manipulation. There are strings attached to your fingers, all seven of them. Strings attached to all seven fingers, on all legions of your hands.

You pull one, the darkness warps and cracks under your influence. It sieves out of view, shapes and color (color?) materialize into an ocean. The water is blue. The sky is black. The stars are white. The view pulls back, and an island fades into scene. It’s large and mountainous, green adorns its body in the form of trees and farms. There are circular buildings sprinkled into the highest peaks, observatories.

They were built to watch you, to commune.

They were never enough to reach you.

Your being warbles.

You are alone, you have created a cruel world that will never regard you. Your own people fear you. You have inflicted loneliness on them so they can understand, and all they do is change in the face of it. You cannot change. You will never change. You are the Universe, and you are alone.

More strings are pulled, fingers mangle into glyphs, the enchantment before you changes.

A scene change. A part of you croaks out. Never. You are the Universe.

You are the Universe and you do not write stories for your subjects. You are no playwright, you are an arbiter.

The island is replaced with a tree. There are stars in its leaves. It has lost its color. They took it away. You let them.

They will never again appreciate the world you made for them. It is monochrome, an echo of the devotion and ardor you felt when sculpting them.

You remember this tree. You’d laugh at this point, but you aren’t making a joke. You are the Universe.

You are the Universe and you do not make jokes. You do not make stories. You observe.

Alone.

Do you have to be alone?

Yes. Yes you do.

But the stars-

Created as a mimicry of yourself.

And they deserve loneliness just because you made them to?

You made all of them lonely. It is the way the Universe works.

And yet your zealots change. They unite, they love.

You loved too.

And they replaced it with whites and grays.

You loved too. It does not matter what they do with that love.

Yes it does. You are alone.

…

You are the Universe and you are alone.

I am alone.

(...)

The tree. You remember this tree, you’d laugh if you were making a joke.

Is this the first time or the second? Maybe the third, have they worked up to that yet?

There is a third? A piece of you worries. It did not know this yet.

It is different, but there will be a third.

Your fragment shudders.

There is your subject. Nowhere near the last of them, but this is the only one you can use.

They talk with themselves. So this is the second time.

The first round, your poor partisan.

They did it to themselves.

You did it to them.

Yes. They are a star now, and they are alone.

But they don’t have to be.

They won’t talk to you, not again. Never again. You made them alone.

You made them always be alone.

They have another.

Yes.

Will that be enough?

Never.

(...)

You pull at more strings, the curtains draw and another scene takes place. There are new actors, actors you… recognize. Actors that are your family.

A piece of you loves them. A piece of you is not alone.

That piece of you writes plays, and creates poems.

You are the Universe. You do not create. You do not change. You are alone.

The actors are around your zealot, their hands on its face. They are whispering.

We love you, you aren’t alone, we will never leave you, not totally, you will never be alone again, we love you Siffrin, we love you Universe.

The whispers drip through the rendering. Many pieces of you hunger for them.

They love you.

They do.

And? Does that make you less alone?

No, you are always alone. You are the Universe. You are alone.

You can stop being alone. You can take them.

You cannot take what isn’t yours.

But-

You cannot take what isn’t yours.

…

…

But you want to.

Yes. You do want to.

The actors are in your hands, they are still whispering. You have left your zealot behind. They aren’t alone.

A mouth opens.

One after another you eat them.

Their whispers disappear into the many fragments of yourself.

One fragment begins creating a poem.

“A baleful thing, a heap of limbs, shell, and sound.

Once human, able to look into a reflection and see something recognizable look back.

The sleeping river, the one-”

You have said this before. Now calls for something new.

You take what amounts to a breath, a pause before you begin.

If you are the Universe, you do not create. You do not make stories.

If you are the Universe, then you are everything.

If you are the Universe, then you are creation.

If you are creation, then you will write.

A story for your zealot.

You begin to write.

Chapter Text

Something feels wrong. About the world. You’ve been here… how many years now?

You’ve grown accustomed to the rapid pattern of the constant spinning and the belligerent droning of the sun. It’s worked its way into your skin and causes your veins to keep moving.

But now it feels…

Heavy. Sluggish. Dull.

There’s a river next to you. It looks purple and carries a shimmer, and smells just like the bees you kept for that one long summer. They ate lavender. Orange and black speckled fish swim through with seeming ease. The grass is sugar floss between your toes, and the sun is skeletons above you.

You can ask me questions, if you want. Or we can stay here, under the skeleton sun.

> why am i here?

You’re dead. Probably. Maybe.

That would explain it, wouldn’t it? People's clothes don’t die with them, you have nothing. You’re probably nothing. You remember things, sure. Not your name really, but you remember the pattern in the wood of the pews you sat in during your grandfather's funeral. You remember how scared you were, too scared to say goodbye to the casket.

You never told him goodbye.

You remember that.

(...)

You grew up here. You’re supposed to be here right now. That’s the answer you’re looking for.

> i want to know who i am.

You’re a mixture of person and other, some collation of naked shame, bones, and skin glued together. A vassal maybe, holding for something more. You don’t remember much beyond that visceral feeling of aches in your knees. There's no pockets for you to check, no keepsakes or leftover journals. You’re not sure what they would tell you anyway, the name listed would be no more your own than the image next to it.

> i don’t remember the fish. what are they? koi?

They’re koi, you don’t know how to identify koi, and you feel a little stupid for trying. But you know the colors, the orange and black, bubbles rippling under scales and turtles piecing away their fins. They mean something, about who you are.

They’re in honey, your favorite mix-in for your morning coffee. It’s even that brand you like. The regular had never heard of it, you don’t know why you asked her about it. It was too early, you hadn’t slept that night. You don’t drink coffee, and for good reason, but you needed it that morning, to cope with the glares around you.

> i don’t drink coffee?

No, your mother does, she loves coffee. You learned to make it for her. Not only make it, but perfect it. It’s one of your few talents. But you can’t stand the grinds swilling in your marrow. You hate it, even in controlled amounts. So you make her a cup, politely pour yourself one, and spill it into the honey-river as soon as she tips her mug for a sip.

> why honey?

Because it’s your way of loving men. Nonverbal communication, to make sure your heart knows it’s queer. The more you fill the pitchers in your arms with it, the more you feel like you could justify putting up with sex.

But that isn’t normal. And you’re dangerous for thinking it, you drain honey too quickly, soon you’ll love a woman. And that’ll be it.

> the sun used to drone, buzz with noise. where did that go? why can’t i hear it?

The sun doesn’t make noise, the waves of light that bounce off the moon do. They filter into your half-closed window and dance in your ears, up from your spinal column. They are two pair, lovers’ hand-tethered. You heard the footsteps clop in your nervous system, you’ve always heard them. But now…

You don’t know. The moon isn’t here anymore, it’s quiet.

For the first time in your life, your spine isn’t whispering to you.

It’s quiet.

> is there something wrong with the world?

No. Well… yes. It’s burning, collectively chucked into the bin sometime around the invention of Teflon. But for you? No. The world is as it’s always been.

> why is it all so different then?

You changed. You grew up, died, lived. Whatever.

You used to be able to stand in the exact right place on the edge of your fathers observatory so you could see the entire curve of the world. Across the sea, all the way to the back of your head. You’ve lost that.

You used to wonder how people could lose that, it was deeply unfathomable. You knew that your eyesight gets worse as you age, but surely not that bad. How could someone not just look closer and see the cascading waves and paths collapsing into a fine point? You saw it, you treasured it, you reveled in it.

You use that as an example to describe yourself. That is you, unequivocally and without compromise. The kid who spent hours trying to stand in just the exact right spot, so you could see the world from your house.

You were naive. You still are. You never won’t be.

> what do i do now?

Well that’s for you to decide, as always.

> doesn’t the universe decide what i’ll do?

They’ve been dormant for a long time. They died right when you picked up that book, the one with the constellations on the cover. Do you remember that?

> yes, but that was just a notebook. there wasn’t anything to it.

There wasn’t until you filled it with stupid ideas and dreams, beliefs about New Year’s Eve and worries about your thighs. That was your prayer, to yourself. The ultimate blaspheme, to see yourself as more than a pitiful worm made of dirt and debris. You were alive, you were so alive and young, your bones could connect to stars and you would walk among the cosmos, drinking down milk heartily as if it were a million-billion gobstopper-shaped planets.

You used that to deconstruct, to loose yourself from the suffocating grip of self-immolation from spitting on other fags for being like you. Church-side civil discussion with men who have never cried before about whether or not you were allowed to exist. Devil's advocate. You wrote about it. About blood from your own hands and ribbons in your hair. About the Universe.

The Universe didn’t like that. They didn’t like you.

> why am i here then? heaven shouldn’t open to someone like me. what makes me special?

You aren’t in heaven. You grew up here. You belong here right now.

And you aren’t special.

Everyone sees koi in their dreams.

> why has no one ever told me about it?

They did.

Do you remember in church, when you were so little the school chairs felt like thrones, and your pastor, Brian, talked about spring holidays? He talked about eggs that he would hide for his son, pages torn from the great work with as much love and care as divinely possible, tucked away in every possible nook.

You found one in the bathroom, beneath a succulent in a clear, dolphin-shaped vase. Those were his koi.

He died the next year. Cancer.

His son found so many pages around the house, clearing out everything to sell it for his mother. He still finds pages, even though it's been a decade. Those are his koi, his honey, his skeleton-sun, forever. Even after he dies and gets to see the family dog again. He'll still find pages.

> i’m scared.

I know.

> am i dead?

Oh buddy…

You never were really alive to begin with.

> i was, i had blood in my bones and ghosts in my skull. i was alive. i remember being alive. i know i was alive.

You remember things that felt like being alive.

You remember thinking you liked girls and hating pork, you remember the first time you had sex and the stomachaches you’d always get before first dates.

You remember when that boy licked away the honey from your face and said he’d never actually loved you. And you were fine with it.

You remember wanting to love and be loved, you pined after Alex so disastrously drunk on your friends bathroom floor,

“I’m going to write something about you
I’m going to love you
I’m going to
I know
I know”

You said those words, directly to the sun. You called him your savior.

You sure felt alive. You remember feeling alive.

But

There weren't any ghosts in your skull. Or blood in your bones.

You were just young.

> oh.

Yeah.

> i remember that, vomiting feelings and bile. i was just young. it never mattered did it?

No.

> did i matter?

No.

> why not?

You never took power. You never made the world around you.

> but i still created things, and affected lives, i’m still doing all that. i’ll matter eventually right?

You won’t.

> i should.

Should you? I know you think you’re supposed to, but you’ll never matter while entropy exists.

You can’t matter more than the worms or detritus beneath your own corpse.

> no, no no no. i’m more important than them.

Why?

> i can make art, i’m alive, i can breathe.

So can they. Do you not believe that the beetles carve poems into the wood-rot every time they eat?

> but my art’s different. you said it yourself, the ultimate blaspheme. i’m above the worms.

You need it, to keep living. You need your art to be important. Don’t you?

You need something about yourself to be important, because otherwise all those feelings you had in those pews don’t really matter, all your poetry and words you’ve slung into people that don’t respond, they wouldn’t really exist. Something about you has to matter because otherwise you’re going to die for nothing, no one is going to remember, and it won’t even matter.

> it is important. it is important. it is important.

No. It isn't.

> no. it isn’t.

Your greatest fear, the thing that crawls up your spine every night until it reaches your tear ducts.

That thing that makes you anguish over talking to a boy.

That thing that grabs your throat and makes you writhe when you’re given a hickey.

That’s the skeleton sun. Being made just to die, to be forgotten, and to be no more than worms in the soil.

Worms that write sonnets in the dirt.

And worms that eat your mother, when she’s finally buried. Performing a final sacrament to honor her, return her to the earth and river.

How could you ever be more important than that?

> the worms. do they love her?

More than you could ever fathom.

> what do i do now?

Grieve for the worms as much as you’ll grieve for your mother.

Or

Take the easy way out. Get mad, indignant, and powerful. Be important. Matter.

The Universe, worms, and koi can’t stop you regardless.

This is all for you to decide, as always.

The Universe will love you regardless.

The stars will love you regardless.

Now go, little zealot. Honor your past life, past name.

Look up into the stars and remember that you only fear them because they love you.

Chapter Text

Your eye is open, unblinking into the leafy canopy above you. The shades on its petals shimmer briefly.

You are awake, truly, this is the real world. You have two hands, two legs, one head, one chest, one eye. Your name is Siffrin, you are a rogue who has lost their home. You are a part of a family that loves you, and you love them. You are a vassal for the universe. You are her zealot, and while you might not remember what that means anymore, you will still serve her.

You talked to her last night.

In your dreams.

Loop was right. You wished for it.

Your throat didn’t work still, your body didn’t matter. Your words existed without you.

You remember this time. You remember being her, eating your family, being afraid, being alone.

You remember the colors you saw. The love in the world that you don’t see now.

You remember your island- not entirely. Never entirely. You will never fully remember it, you will never be able to love it again. But you got to see it, one last time.

You remember your grandfather's funeral.

She was right, you were too afraid to visit his casket.

He had always been there before, he’s the one who taught you to make coffee for your mother, he’s the one who taught you to breathe. He’s the one who instilled a love of the stars into you.

You weren’t there for him, not in the same way.

Not while he was resting in his casket, his eyes closed, his heart failed. You stayed in the pews, eyes burning into the wood. You never said goodbye to him.

It takes you a moment to realize you’re being lifted out of your hammock. Rocky hands are holding you into a chest. Another moment and you’re set down, hands are on you, most reach to your face. Whispers again, they don’t need to break through your sobs this time. You aren’t howling, sobbing, or baying.

You’re just crying, grieving.

We love you, you aren’t alone, we will never leave you, not totally, you will never be alone again, we love you Siffrin.

You nod. You know. Everyone is created to be alone and yet you have all changed, and you are together. Even if pieces of you aren’t here right now, some piece of you is, and that piece will never be alone.

A halting breath, a chitter of apologies, and you center yourself.

You are in the real world, and you are Siffrin.

You smile at them, your family.

“I remember my grandfather, he was this tall man, wire glasses, short hair that was a few shades below darkless. He worked on a farm, it was small, just shared by him and his wife. His kids too- before they left. I don’t remember the other animals, but I remember the chickens. I’d be trusted sometimes to brave their coop and get their eggs. We always had a special breakfast whenever I did.”

You breathe in, and out.

“He taught me to make coffee, that dark liquid I’ve been making. My mother loved it so much, I learned it just for her. She had this whole setup for it and I would brew it for her. My grandfather always shared his techniques so I could make the best cup for her. I never liked it much myself… that’s changed now. I’m the only one left to like it, so I do.”

“He… died. I remember the exact feeling I had when I found out. Like a dagger had just severed something inside me. Some liquid coated my skin, I felt empty. I didn’t cry until his funeral, sitting on a bench behind his siblings. It was an open casket, so I could go up and say goodbye, maybe some final words.”

“I didn’t. I was too scared. There were so many tears in my eyes.”

“The eulogies were great though, some of his friends stood up and spoke. I remember one of the stories, it was about this ladder that my grandfather just kept falling off of, he had it for a few decades and it was broken since the day he first used it. He never fixed it, and it would always collapse. But that was my grandfather, lazy in that loving sort of way. He gave you the time you needed, he accepted you as you were.”

You chuckle a bit, you never got to see your grandfather as someone who was funny, a person. He was a deity to you, the family patriarch who knew everything the Universe had to teach.

“He loved games, we had a whole collection of games he had created, they were these intricate hodge-podges of rules and dice that no one else really ever understood. But he made so many.”

“I don’t remember his name. But that’s… that’s okay I think. I grieve for him, as part of the world. And that’s all that he needs to be remembered.”

You nod, your tears are wiped off your face by their hands.

“So-” A catch in your throat, you clear it. “So you guys will grieve for me, right? When we aren’t together anymore, you’ll grieve for me in all the ways you can?”

They nod, they whisper. They harmonize and you can feel their words ride the air into your ears.

Always, in every way, no part of us will forget you totally, you will always be loved and grieved.

You are comfortable, you are loved.

This is your last day of travel. You’ll be in Bambouche before nightfall. You’ll spend a few days, and then say goodbye to Bonnie. The rest of you will continue without them. After that, you’ll slowly piece apart. Mira has her own life to figure out, Odile needs to return to Ka Bue. It’ll just be you and Isa, probably settling in his hometown of Jouvente.

This is your last day of travel, and what a perfect day for travel it is. The sun is above you, the sky is clear. You’ve finally made your way to developed path, so it’s far less treacherous. Your party even passes a wandering cart on the way, their wares are sparse so you save your coin, but Odile has a few questions for them. 15 minutes and one interrogation later, you’re all back on the road.
‘
You stop a few times, Bonnie demands snack breaks after all.

Maybe it’ll be okay. Yeah, it’ll all be okay.

Chapter Text

You land from full twisting double backflip executioner flourish, the ground settles softly beneath your feet. The sadness behind you has been efficiently eviscerated. You begin walking away from it, not sparing it a glance behind. 

“So was that to impress me? Or are you just trying to practice for the next time your little fighter is watching?”

Loops voice chimes into your head, helpful as always. 

“That’s me! Helpful Loop. Teehee.”  

A forced ‘teehee’ of course, the pressure in this temple is overwhelming, and you both understand the gravity of the situation. Loop is merely-

“Disarming the situation with my patented celestial charm?”

Not what you were going for, but sure.

“I’ll get back to the others, I’m sure they’re dying to know how our little stardust is doing. Good luck practicing your acrobatics. Hope your fighter is impressed~”

You nod at nobody in particular, Loops presence slowly fades from your mind and you find yourself alone. Alone inside of the temple of Chioen. Your parents would have never let you do something so dangerous - if you could remember them. Or if they were alive. Or existed at all.

Brooding time you suppose. 

You plop onto the floor, star-crossed applesauce. The stone is rough and poorly hewn, but surprisingly warm to the touch. You expected Chioen, the “winter” to have her disciples build a temple in a much cooler place, y’know, like… the winter? You’ve had this debate with Loop and Bonnie before, it is always never helpful. But alas, you’ve made multiple plunges into this volcanic temple.

This is your third expedition, Odile hopes for it to be the final one. You’ve found piles of old melted weapons, sadnesses in ridiculous droves, and barrels. 

So many blinding barrels.

You’d swear that you were back in Dormont with how often you find yourself searching through random empty barrels. Well, you would if not for the ever encroaching heat.

It rises and falls while you’re inside the temple. From unbearable heat to a lukewarm simmer. Like breathing.

Yup. 

You’re exploring a giant deadly maze, alone, inside of a temple of a long dead god, nestled in a living volcano.

And Nille says you’re the softest of the group. You chuckle.

Okay… inventory. That would be the responsible thing to do about now. Right? You ruffle through your pack and combined pockets, shaking out a layer of volcano ash that covers your cloak. You really need to figure out a way to clean this thing better… later.

Your belongings lay in an organized pile in front of you. You have;

1 broken dagger 

1 shortsword with a crystal blade

1 magic family-cloak that all your friends are jealous of

1 locket

2 servings of coffee beans (pre-ground)

7 sets of condensed rations (not tasty)

2 sets of condensed rations (tasty)

1 Journal

1 Full canteen

1 shard of Loop

1 pair of fireproof boots (not stylish)

1 keyring, with various keys for the temple

1 map of the temple (very old)

…

You catalog the various bits and bobs that have ended up in your pockets over this adventure. 

Well- first you wipe off an indescribable amount of volcanic ash from every. Single. Blinding. Thing .

THEN you catalog them.

Okay… you’re out of coffee filters, you’ll have to scrounge them from your journal. Food is still looking okay, you’re good on water still, your equipment is in decent repair. Though you grimace as you slip your old dagger back into it's pocket. You wouldn't dare complain about your new sword, it’s shiny and magic, but you just can't help but feel awkward carrying it. It doesn't have the same wicked curve your old dagger had, it’s larger and less concealable, though honestly, you just miss the old dagger. 

Isabeau named it “Mr. Knifington” after he had a few too many drinks one night. 

You had to break it to save your own life on the first expedition into this temple, you’re still hoping to find the other half of its blade. Maybe Mr. Knifington will live again… one day.

But for now this crystal sword will have to do. You found it at the end of a HORRIBLE room filled with rising lava. You singed the bottom of your feet so bad you had to rest for an entire week after you escaped. Without Mira’s healing craft it likely would have taken months. 

The sword was at the end, its blade never dulls or something lame like that. Who cares? It can’t replace Mr. Knifington. 

You put on a sour face for show - to no audience, and continue packing up your things. A few more hours and the next door should open, you’ll be able to progress through the temple deeper than you have before. The heat will rise in kind however, you hope your ugly new boots will be enough to match it. 

You really hate how these boots look. They have gaudy flames rising on them, sewn in with a magic thread that makes them flicker. The boots also have a ridiculous blocky design, terrible. Just terrible! Isa will have to fix these up when you get back, you’re sure he can figure out magic thread. It’s just like regular thread! Except magic. And with a prerequisite for defying all sense of style apparently.

Maybe you could examine the threads with your craft… are they needed for the boots magic? You hope not, you’d rather go with singed feet than be seen in public with these.

“Stardust! Since when did you get so conceited? I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be the one obsessed with fashion~”

About time they return. You were getting bored.

“Sorry I couldn’t be more entertaining for you Stardust~”

There's a cutting lilt in Loops voice. The thoughts projected into your mind like a blade. There isn’t any more time to waste, the exit door must be opening soon.

“Oh Stardust! You know me too well. But you’re off the mark just a bit! The Researcher thinks you’re just a few rooms away from a particularly powerful Sadness, this is probably the biggest in the temple.”

Great, another sadness to cut through. You hate the sadnesses in this temple, they are all flickering and weak, emotions fading more and more with each passing decade. With nobody left to remember Chioen, the Sadnesses are only lingering spirits bound to the stone walls of this temple. 

“Yes and you’re so strong that you can just cut past them all! It’ll be a cinch!” 

Thanks Loop. Very helpful. Okay, well easy enough! You stand and stretch, warming up for the fight. The rest of the temple should be empty. If you can take out the biggest Sadness, you’ll be able to loot what you need in peace. Hopefully Dile will figure out the exit door soon, you’re ridiculously bored of the heated hallways and volcanic ash everywhere.

“Don’t forget the barrels!”

Yes. And the barrels. You hope to never see a barrel again.

The heat begins to rise, or- it has been rising, it’s just getting noticeable. Your forehead breaks into a sweat. Heat breaks up what you can see down the hallways, ever mixing and mingling with the stale air. You can hear a crash echo from somewhere, you hope it’s barrels being destroyed.

Another crash, a bit closer. It’s the sadness isn't it?

You gather yourself, crystal sword in your hand, and launch into a sprint. The heat whips against your temperature regulating cloak, the ash billows around your feet as you tramp through. Dash around a corner- catch yourself on the edge, launch down the hall.

You doubt any of your party members would be able to keep up with you if they were here. The air is whistling against your face, it's getting hotter, you’re getting closer. A final heel turn and you spin into a large room. You hate the large rooms.

Pillars, or- columns? You’ll ask Odile about it later. But whatever they are they crowd the room, far too many standing carved stone obelisks-

“ Oh perfect descriptor!”

Thanks. But these obelisks- too many of them. Rows and rows. You’d think this was an orchard of stationary stone trees. They crumble and skew in random directions, debris and obelisks in equal measure litter the floor. Which is also mildly on fire! How cheery. 

A few steps into the room and the obelisks are looming over you. You slip behind the first few. You really hope you don’t have to fight anything in this room.

“ Stardust, why would you even think that? Are you stupid? Don’t you know how narrative tension works? Of course you’re going to fight something in here! Now… Do you think it’ll be a stone monster or a lava monster? My money is on lava. I think it’d be funny to see you get burned a bit.”

Thanks Loop. Loving as always. 

“Burnt like toast! Siffrin toast.”

About halfway through the jungle of pillars, you stop and review the room. You’re standing on a large circular platform, it deeply slopes off at the ends into a moat of ash and fire.

“ Stoast? Siffoast?”

Ignoring you. The obelisks themselves are mostly smooth, save for some cracks that litter the surface to varying degrees. Some are cut entirely through, failing to reach the ceiling like the rest of them. You found one low enough to sit on.

“ The kid said “toastfrin” and I think that works best.”

Toastfrin is definitely better than Siffoast. 

The heat is still rising, without this cloak you’d probably be… toast. You take a sip of water, Mirabelles voice sounds in your head, reminding you the importance of staying hydrated. Crouched low on your perch you scan for any movement between the columns. You haven’t heard a crash since you sprinted into this room, but if ever a “boss” room existed- it’s probably this one.

Your sword catches the light before you do, your arm swings out to deflect the projectile.

*HISSSSSSSSS*

*Chink*

*SSSSSSSSSSSSK*

A beam clashes with the edge of your sword, it holds and begins to boil in your hand. The crystal blade glowing. You flick your wrist and throw yourself back off the pillar, the beam continues on, obliterating the now vacant pillar. It shatters even further.

You land on your feet, springing immediately behind another pillar, you’re not sure where the beam came from, but stars, are you happy to have this sword. You shudder as an image of Mr. Knifington melting pops into your head. You draw your blade close, keeping it pointed to the ground, ready to intercept the next blast, or whatever that beam was.

Scratching against stone is all you can hear, light and faint, you have to tense your ears to listen.

A scrape to your left, you slip behind another pillar as the one behind you blasts apart.

*HISSSSSSSSSSSS*

Metal scratches against stone.

*Chink*

A click, right below you. The pillar you’re leaning against slides into the floor. You didn’t know they could do that. 

*SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSK*  

A crackle, and another pillar shatters. Circle around this one, launch to the next, climb atop this one. Where are the blasts coming from? They’re chasing you, so why can’t you see it? You squint, searching among the hundreds of stone pillars. 

You press your off-hand into a fist, focusing energy with it, Isabeau has been helping you hone your rock-craft. 

Hold.

*HISSSSSSSSSS *

You fling your hand out in the direction of the scratching, releasing the force onto an unsuspecting pillar, it snaps at its base and falls to the side. Ash blooms up from the ground, coating the air. A light pokes through the dust, slicing into the air a few steps to your right.

You’re already upon the sadness as you finally make out its features. 

It’s tall. Long stocky arms and legs that shoot out in straight lines. Stone plates cover the creature like a carapace, etchings and some form of writing are on them, but the words fuzz and jumble when you look at them. Not that you have time to read them- your sword is already embedded in what would be its neck. 

A cracked gurgle chimes out. 

You free your blade and chop into it again, reinforcing the edge with scissors craft. It cuts between two plates, what would be its shoulder, and the sadness warbles.

Its front leg swings up with unrestrained speed. The stone plate slams into your side, wrenching you away from the sadness, blade still stuck within its strange flesh. 

You crash into a pillar.

*HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS * 

It turns towards you, the lettering on its plates shimmering faster. Your crystal blade pulses with light. See- this is why daggers are way better. Just slashing into something rather than hacking- you lose a lot less weapons that way.

You shoot up, ignoring whatever pain is in your body, you’ve felt worse.

You’ve fought worse.

You leap at it. A crazed frenzy you’d see from some forest beast. Your teeth are sharp and your fingers end in claws. You grasp onto a plate, leveraging to rip your sword out of it. The sadness is building another blast, your sword ends the fight before it can fire.

The sadness collapses into a pile of stone chips and volcanic ash.

You breathe in, and out.

That should be the last sadness. The exit door should open soon. You’ve scoured most of this blinding temple, you’re still not sure what Odile is looking for in these temples.

You sigh and begin sifting through the ash. The sadness should have left its core, just like the other ones you’ve dispatched.

You find a misshapen geode, dust it off and stow it into your pack. 

That should be everything you need. Loop- do you know when the door is gonna open?

…

Loop?

Your breath catches- but it’s fine! You’re fine. They aren’t dead just because they aren’t responding to you immediately. They’re probably talking to Odile about the exit. You’ll just wait for them to come back!

Easy peasy.

You kick a chunk of rock and it clatters across the floor. You can hear the echoes in this room. The stone you kicked, your breathing- the constant burbling and cracking of lava and fire. Deeper echoes too, from before. You can hear someone whisper in a language that just escapes your grasp. A rhythmic clanging as if someone were excavating in this room. A lilting shimmer that sticks in your head. 

This temple is ancient, it’s seen many lives and adventurers. But more than that- it used to be a… home? A castle of some sort? It had a use, it had inhabitants. You can hear them if you listen close enough. Sizzling oil over a fire. Laughter from children that used to play in these halls. The saccharine sweeping of pages being turned. This temple remembers what it used to be, but all that’s left is heat and anger formed lava.

Stars- you get melodramatic when you’re anxious. No use sharpening your sword just to keep your mind busy, it’s magic! You hate magic swords. Can’t carve anything either, not only would you hate figuring out how to carve a small block of wood with a giant crystal sword, but flinging fla++mmable scraps all around you seems like a bad activity inside a volcano.

Guess you’ll do more of the usual then, time to get this blinding ash off of all your things. You’ll be so happy to be done with this temple.

You dust yourself off in relative silence. The hissing of lava makes the quiet in your head all that more apparent. 

Are they okay? Sometimes you can’t reach them, that’s normal. This has happened before you don’t need to freak out. You can just wait. It’s fine.

It’s fine! 

Meandering time. May as well. You can scrounge for any loot that’s missing.

You’re half-heartedly retracing your steps from outside the column room. Ignoring all the barrels of course. You still don’t know what you wanted to be when you were a kid. No dreams of being an astronomer or adventure, that past is all lost on you. But you know deep in your bones that you never dreamed of being a cooper. Filling the world with countless cylinders of lacquered evil. Ugh! Gives you shudders just thinking about it. Maybe some kid somewhere did. Growing up, maybe hoping to make their family of coopers proud. Taking up the barrel-making mantle.

That kid is an idiot.

There's too many blinding barrels in this temple.