Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Oi, come on, Bunting, just hit it!" Drippy yells from the side lines, jumping twice his height in the air.

"I can't!" Oliver, however, remains frozen in place, eyes darting between the old stick in his hand and the ruff before him.

It's a sweet little creature, quite like a dog from back in Motorville, but wild. A snarling, biting flurry of red and yellow fur, yapping almost as loud as Drippy is.

"Why not, mun?!" He lets out a groan, his lantern flopping from side to side with frustration.

"It's-" There's a thousand words Oliver wants to say, but the thoughts refuse to form. "It's wrong . You can't just hit animals, Mr Drippy!"

A second, louder groan. "Oh, flippin' ' eck …" He crumbles in on himself like a deflated balloon. "Does it look like you've got a lotta choice, mun?!"

A fair point to raise - Nervous, Oliver looks over his shoulder, staring down at the cliff behind him. There's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

The only way out of this is through. 

Swallowing his nerves, and every lesson about morality his mother taught him, Oliver raises his hand.

He doesn't get a chance to strike - The ruff bites him firmly on the leg.

"Ow!" As a reflex, he swings his arm down, hitting the beast between the eyes.

"That's the spirit, boy bach!" The fairy jumps to life again, whooping at the top of his lungs. "Give 'im another, just like that!"

Oliver's barely listening. "He bit me…" There's a tear in his denim, a small trickle of blood staining his knee. 

"And 'e'll do it again if you don't look lively, mun!" His little paws clap. "That's just what you've do with beasties!"

"But it's-!" This time, Oliver's quicker. When the ruff lunges towards him, he blocks it with his stick.

"There, see, that's what we call defending ." Trying to determine Drippy's tone this time is trickier. It's still coarse, but perhaps there is a hint of pride, or at least acknowledgment. "Fine and dandy, but not enough to get 'im to scamper off, you see?"

No matter how insistent Drippy is, the uneasy feeling in Oliver's stomach refuses to ebb. "Are you sure this is the only way?"

" 'Am I sure?!', he asks, the cheek of the lad! ' Course I'm sure, mun!" Although he continues to flap and flail, the Ruff shows no interest in Drippy whatsoever. "Blimey, I'm goin' to have to do this myself, ent I?"

Yes please, Oliver wants to cry. It would be easier for both of them if they could just get past this and move onwards. 

But if he ever wants to defeat this Shadar…

If he wants to save his mother…

Oliver swallows the bile in the back of his throat. "N- No thank you…"

It feels like an eternity before the pup rolls onto its side, tongue lolled out of its mouth, dissipating in a cloud of smoke.

Oliver's heart stops. "Did I-"

"Relax, mun." Drippy pats his leg, shaking his head. His little lantern wiggles in the air along with it. "He's just gone to rest now, see? He'll be back and fighting fit in no time."

"Oh…" A deep breath in. "Okay." And out again. "That's- Okay."

"Now, let's hop to it before 'e comes back then, eh? Ding Dong Dell won't wait forever for you, Bunting!"

"How many times do I have to-!" But before Oliver can get the words out, the fairy has already scampered off down the hill. He puffs out his cheeks, before following after Drippy, deciding to save his anger.

It wouldn't do good to annoy his only guide in this new world.

There's so much still to learn about this place. About everything. 

At first, he simply didn't believe it. It sounded like something from one of his mum's stories. The only reason he believes it now is because he can see the red dragon in the sky above, hear the chittering of the other beasties, feel the cold air on his face.

It's real.

It's really real.

And it makes no sense.

He sprints a little faster, catching up to the fairy. "Mr Drippy?"

"Aye?" The bite in his voice has calmed now - He's seemingly moved on from the Ruff incident.

"I- Could I ask you some questions?" Trying to find the correct words is strange. On the one hand, Drippy knows him. He's watched him grow up. On the other hand, this is a total stranger. And an adult, too. Trying to balance the need for formality with the familiarity is a battle Oliver hasn't quite won yet. "Please?"

"Too right, you can." He looks up with an inquisitive look. "I was worried you wouldn't ask. Can't expect to learn if you ent curious now, can you?"

It doesn't feel as reassuring as perhaps it should. "I guess…" He still can't fight this nagging feeling that he isn't the right person for this. "How long has Shadar- Am I saying that right?"

"That you are."

"Okay, Shadar. How long has-" How does he phrase this in the most sensitive way? "When did… this start?"

"Well, that's interesting, see." Drippy lights up, his ego clearly swelling with him. "No one's got an exact date for when he started all this. The Dark Lord started small, we think, little indetectable things here and there that no one took notice of. Then there's the whole Halcyon thing, don't get me started…"

"The Halcyon thing?!"

"It goes like this, right." Completely caught up in his story, Drippy slows a lot, focusing on his theatrics. "We think The Dark Lord must be a mortal man like you or I, since he only uses mortal magics and the like. But in some of these old records, see, there are mentions of 'im in places he can't have been! This old fancy town Halcyon was one of 'em, but it's not existed for a long time!" 

"Jeepers…" A shiver goes down Oliver's spine. He cannot decide which is worse: To know exactly the face of the man he must defeat is, or for him to be a total enigma. For now, he just lets Mr Drippy ramble.

"And then, the more you think about it, lots of stuff doesn't quite add up, yeah? I could go on and on and on, but the point is…" The anticipation builds. "We don't know." And immediately it dies again. "Point is, he's been 'ere too long, and it's about time someone got rid of him, ain't that right, mun?"

Oliver swallows. "Right…" 

He can't picture it. What if he really has been around since ancient times? Then, there must have been countless people born under his reign, people who have known other life than this one. There must've of course been those that have passed, too. Those that longed so long for an end to the fear but never saw peace.

There must've been some that lived and died entirely within Shadar's terror.

There must've been some that knew no other life.

And yet, Oliver knows nothing of life under Shadar. When Mr Drippy first described it, he imagined the world shrouded under a black sky, children crying in the streets, shrieks filling the air.

Instead, it's rather peaceful.

Life goes on.

No matter how tragic, life will always march forward.

The thought makes him almost feel sick. 

Another question. He needs a distraction. "Okay, what about soulmates?"

"What about 'em? Pretty straight forward, ent it? There's two of yas, one for each parallel world." Now that the exciting conversation has quelled, Drippy picks up the pace again, bounding almost as high as Oliver is tall.

"Yes, I got that, but…" Realising what he's about to ask, Oliver pales. He can't say the words in his head, but he has to say something or he'll look even more suspicious. "Are you… certain that Alicia is my mother's soulmate? What if she isn't?"

Nope. He messed it up. Said the wrong thing. He already knows that. He doesn't need to look at Drippy's dejected face to know that he's made a mess of this.

"Am I certain?!" He puffs up. "Flippin' eck, mun, whatever happened to respect these days?!" 

Oliver can't look at him, his cheeks pink with embarrassment.

"Look at you, Bunting! Been here five minutes and already claimin' to be the expert! There's impressive, ent it! They sure do learn quickly, don't they?!"

"I'm sorry!" He pouts, feeling half his age. "I- You're right, I don't know how this works, that's why I'm asking!" 

Drippy calms a little. "Ah." A pause. "Well." Longer pause. "There's quick of you, Bunting."

"Oliver." He corrects with no fight in it anymore.

"It's like this, see." Another pause, but shorter this time. "I know."

"Really?"

"How many ways can I say it, mun?" He sighs, but there's no animosity in it. "I didn't spend all that time travellin' with her, and all that time watchin' you and youer Mam as a flippin' doll to not be certain, you see?" 

When he says it like that, it feels obvious. "Oh."

They walk in silence.

With all the courage of a cowering kitten, Oliver dares to break it. "I didn't know you travelled with Alicia."

More silence.

"Forget to mention it, did I?" That lively lilt to his tone diminishes, taking on a rather tense tone in its place. "Ah, well. Doesn't do good to dwell on the past now, does it?"

If only it was that easy.

The birds above them begin to sing.

"Right." Oliver manages eventually. "You're right."

Already, too soon, he can feel life beginning to march on.

Chapter Text

With a final Fireball, the lumbering monster falls to its knees, before collapsing on the forest floor. 

The Guardian of the Woods has been defeated.

Oliver should be happy . Proud. Accomplished.

Drippy certainly is, rambling something about 'Good job, boy bach! Ah, I was worried for a second there, but you proved me wrong, didn't you?' but Oliver isn't listening.

He sinks beside the guardian, himself defeated.

This isn't right.

He flicks through the Wizard's Companion, casting Healing Touch, but the spell fails, flickering out instantly.

He's too distracted .

There's something about the guardian. Whilst its eyes are wild, feral, its hands are gentle, bandaged in soft fibres. Whilst its roaring has certainly taken the wind out of Oliver, there's a beauty to its necklace, covered in little trinkets and ornaments.

There's a life in the creature, a life enough to make guilt flood through Oliver from head to toe.

"Something wrong, Bunting?" Drippy hops over, tilting his head to one side. "We should really be getting back to ol' Treeface. Give him the good news, eh?"

Good news . Oliver grimaces. "Was that really the only way?"

"Ah, there it is again." The fairy gives him a gentle look, and a small pat on the side. "Beginning to think you might be too Pure 'Earted to be ouer Pure 'earted One."

"Really?!" Worry swims through him. "You think I'm not-"

"Oh, relax, Ollie-boy, only pulling youer leg!"

Whilst still not quite his name, it's better than Bunting. Oliver makes no comment.

"I know it seems cruel, but you've got to look on the positive side, see?" He waddles over to the slumbering Guardian, giving him a rub on the snout, the way one might do to a sleeping cat. "It's like this, see. Youer right to feel sympathy for the pouer guy, but not 'cos o' anythin' you did. Shadar got all up in his head, mun. Made him confused. Made him angry. Made him lash out as yas. All you did was set him back to normal, you see?"

In a way, that helps. Not in a way that changes how Oliver feels, however.

"Don't sweat it, Ollie-Boy. You did the right thing." Drippy doesn't smile, but something about his tone feels warm, like the sun. "Here." He scampers over again, wriggling through the bottomless bag, looking as if he might fall in.

"Careful," Oliver manages, but it's only a small whimper. He's still a little dazed.

The fairy emerges again with a bottle of iced coffee in one hand, and a loaf of bread in the other. "Get these down you. And when you'er ready, we head back over to His Barkship. Sound like a plan?" Despite both objects almost being the size he is, he handles them with ease. 

"Okay." Oliver agrees without really thinking about it. 

It's nice having someone to boss him about. Someone to tell him what to do, where to go. He doesn't have to think , which means he doesn't have time to dwell. 

After three long days of dwelling, he needed this. 

Oliver takes a bite. He thinks of his mother.

Not like he's stopped thinking about her, actually. He doubts he ever will.

It's in the quiet moments that it stings the most.

He thinks of her cooking. He'll never taste it again. As grateful as he was that Miss Leila insisted on cooking for him, he couldn't manage a single bite. Desperately, he tries to remember. Had he eaten all his breakfast on that fateful morning? Had he left some of it? Wasted it? Can he even remember what she made for him? He knows she asked him to get eggs, but did she use them? 

He takes another bite of the bread. It tastes bland, stale. Like paper in his mouth, only thick and lumpy. 

The sun shines down on the pair from through the canopy of the trees. Mr Drippy seems content to just bask in it for now, lying beside their supplies without a care in the world.

It had been raining when his mother died. 

He remembers being perhaps four or five and hearing his first ever thunderstorm. His mother had swaddled him in a blanket, it all wrapped over his head like a nun's veil, and assured him all would be well. 

He'd cried and cried and cried into her chest, sobbing that it was too loud, that it was too scary, and that he wanted it to be over.

She had just held him, sung to him, rocked him back and forth until he calmed down again.

He's a bit too old to cry at thunderstorms now, but he knows that the next time he hears rainfall, it'll be difficult to bite back the tears.

She will never hold him like that again.

"Oi…" Mr Drippy cuts in. "What's got you all mopey all of a sudden?"

The answer feels obvious, as plain as day, but Oliver can't bring himself to say it. He can't tell if his throat feels clumped full of sorrow, or if it's just this awful bread. 

He swallows harshly, feeling whatever it is get a little stuck. "I'm…" 

He's what? There's a thousand words for what he feels right now, and he doesn't know any of them.

Eventually, the only words that come to him are simply: "What was Alicia like?" 

"Blimey, there's heavy." He puffs. "Not sure I can answer that one simply, boy bach."

Immediately, Oliver regrets asking. "Of course. I'm sorry. I didn't think." Better than anyone, he should know that grief isn't simple, and not something to be pried into.

"Nah, mun." Drippy shrugs. "Makes sense you'd be curious, don't it?" He folds his little arms, staring up at the sky. "She was…" He waves his hand nonchalantly. "Smart. Kind. All the things a good sage should be."

Oliver makes a mental note - Drippy struggles with emotional heart-to-hearts. He'll keep that in mind, but he also notes the effort. It's not that the fairy isn't trying , not at all.

Perhaps it's just difficult for him.

The thought makes him almost laugh - Oliver has enough big emotions for the pair of them. 

"Ey, ey, what's got you giggling?" There's puzzlement in Drippy's eyes, a beady curiosity, and perhaps a hinge of worry or embarrassment.

But Oliver doesn't respond. Instead, he focuses on getting his pitiful meal down without choking on it.

They stew in the quiet, letting the world go by for a moment.

In a way, it feels just like home. Perhaps the trees are a bit taller, perhaps the grass has a more cobalt twinge to it. 

But the sun shining on him is the same. The beasties chirping sounds just like the birds back at home.

It isn't as strange as perhaps it first seemed.

"Ah, come on." Eventually, Drippy pipes up. "Treeface'll be waiting."

Oliver scrambles to his feet in an instant. "Right, right, of course."

They walk unspeaking, until they reach the waterfall.

"You'll make a good sage, Ollie-boy."

"R-Really? You think?"

"Just gotta get you used to biting, don't we?"

"Right."

Thank god I don't actually have to bite them - is all Oliver thinks - And thank god I'm not alone.

Chapter Text

The first immovable roadblock arises.

Time.

Oliver's new clothes won't be ready until tomorrow morning.

"So now what?" Quips the fairy. "Bloomin' 'ell, you think she'd appreciate the urgency…"

"It's not like that." Oliver shakes his head, sitting on the steps to the Hootique. "It won't kill us to be patient."

"Speak for yourself, mun." Drippy huffs. "You ent spent the last thirteen years as a flippin' doll." But just as quickly, he puffs up again. "I'm raring to go, Ollie-boy! Ready to show Shadar who's boss!"

"Well… We're not going to show that nice old lady who's boss, okay?" Actually, Oliver welcomes the change of pace. Today has already been a whirlwind without meeting a king on top of it all.

If there was anywhere to be stuck, bored, waiting, Ding Dong Dell is actually rather beautiful. 

At first, Oliver had been distracted, too absorbed in the people and the clothing and the…

That's right, he wanted to check something. He opens the Wizard's Companion, scouring its contents page with intent. 

Finding the section he needs is all too easy.

"Mr Drippy?" He asks, proud of himself for his discovery.

The fairy grumbles over. "Yes, mun?"

"How do you pronounce this word?" Oliver points to the page, showing it to his guide.

"Oh, Grimalkin? How it's spelled, you plonker."

"Grimalkin…" He repeats, before shutting the book and rising to his feet. "Let's go help some Grimalkin."

"You what?"

Oliver stuffs it in his bag with a newfound determination. "What did that guard say that shop was called? Swift Solutions?"

"Oh, it's like that, see!" Drippy too perks up. "There's clever, lad, good thinking!"

Oliver beams.

He knew it was a good idea, but…

Hearing it said like that.

Hearing it said like his mom …

He heads down the cobbled road. He won't let a wobble diminish his newfound confidence.

Thankfully, the Errand Board isn't written in Nazcäan. Whilst Oliver has noticed the alphabet in the back of the Wizard's Companion, the idea of translating everything sounds exhausting .

None of the errands sound especially daunting: All three are different types of finding errands - Someone needs something they don't have, and they need someone to go and get it. 

"Are these the flowers she needs?" Oliver asks, removing a bunch of orange-petalled buds with round heads. 

"That they are, boyo!" Drippy grins. "Plainsworts, they are! You might want to hold onto a couple, you see, they can be used in a proper useful recipe if you ever find a cauldron one day."

"A what?" They don't look particularly edible; Oliver can't imagine them being used in a recipe. "Nevermind, that lady needs them more than us."

"There's generous. Your Ma raised you well, Ollie-Boy!" Drippy rubs his hands together, "Right-o, what's next then?"

"A grimalkin is missing some jewelry and…" He swallows, scratching the back of his neck. "We need to help a mom find her sons."

"Well, sounds a little more complicated then, see. We're gonna have to meet the damsels before we can lend them a hand, see?" The fairy softens a little. "Go get 'em, boy-bach." 

"Right."

It's okay. It's going to be okay.

He's going to help people.

"Oh, these will be purrfect!" The grimalkin lady grins, pressing the flowers to her snout and inhaling deeply. "And you got them here so fast…" 

Something swells inside of Oliver. A warmth, like the first sun after rain, or a warm fire on a winter's day. "No problem, Ma'am!" He finds himself matching her smile. "It was no trouble at all." Unsure if the gesture is appropriate or not, he bows - It'd be better to be overly polite than under. There's a wild giddiness under his skin, like an electricity desperate to get out. 

"Such a purrlite young man…" She reaches into a pouch on her waist and removes a handful of gold coins. "Here, for your troubles. Buy yourself something nice, myes? Get a little treat." 

"Yes, Ma'am." He answers almost without thinking, just eager to make her smile. "Of course, Ma'am."

"Thank you, mister!" The little grimalkin girl hugs Oliver's leg, as if he's promised her the whole world.

"Ah, I uh- Jeepers, I haven't even done anything yet!" Patting her gently on the head between her ears, he manages to wiggle free from her grasp. "I'll be back soon, okay? I promise." Deliberately, he keeps his voice as careful as possible. "And I'll bring your earring back."

As they walk away, Drippy makes a small grumble. "Lad, you need to be careful making promises you can't keep… Ding Dong Dell en't the size of a thimble, is it?" It's a struggle for him to keep up, hopping alongside Oliver as they make their way up the stairs and through the main square of the city. "It could take us all day to turn the place over searching for this thing!"

"It can't be that hard…" Oliver tries to smile, not being deterred - He just heads onwards. "If I can't find an earring, I'm never going to defeat Shadar, am I?"

"Oh, here he goes, I didn't say that, mardy-da!" Drippy gives a large, over-dramatic groan. "I just think we need to be careful, see? Keep our expectations realistic, and all of tha-"

"Found it!" Pulling his hand out of a pot with triumph, Oliver can't help but rub it in the fairy's face a little bit.

"You what, mun?!" Drippy's eyes widen . "Just like that?!"

"It was glowing… I thought it'd be important."

"They all glow!" He waves his little arm around the plaza. "Just means someone put somethin' there, ent it?!" He deflates with a large sigh. "Blimey me… What are the odds of that, then?"

Oliver throws the little gem up in the air, catching it successfully with ease. "Maybe it's because I'm the Pure Hearted One?"

"Oi, oi, oi, don't let it go to your head, Bunting."

"It's Oliver!"

But by the time he's gotten the words out, Drippy has already skittered off away like a thief in the night. 

Oliver pauses for a while, unable and unwilling to hide his smile, before chasing after the fairy. 

The warmth inside him grows again.

Like a fuzzy towel after a cold swim.

"How is it that it's easier for you to find a single earring than three boys youer own age?" After they've circled the city for a third time, spirits are running low between the pair.

"It's not just any three random boys, is it?" Oliver hugs his sides, beginning to feel rather insecure. "I can't just run up to people and ask 'Hello, are you missing?' That would be so creepy…"

"Well, I'm sick of creepin' round here, I'll say that foer free." 

"Do you want me to carry you?"

Drippy takes up a defensive stance. "Not a chance, mun! You better keep youer mits off, you hear me?" 

"Alright, alright!" 

"Their Mam weren't kidding, were she? This last dwt's gotten himself well hidden…" 

"We have to find him, though." Even though the sky is beginning to darken, Oliver refuses to give up. "If he's like his brothers, he'll probably be hurt, we can't just ignore that."

"How are you fairin' for MP? Got enough for another couple fixes?" Drippy's beginning to drag his feet now, lagging a few feet behind.

"If I don't, one of those Iced Coffees will fix that…" Oliver's definitely beginning to feel a little on the weaker side, but no doubt that's just because it's been a long day.  "And if we don't have any of those, we'll just have to go back to the Hootique."

"Oh, Ollie-boy." The fairy falls still, a wide grin on his face. He folds his arms, staring up at him with pure pride.  "Youer a proper genius, you know that, yeah?"

"I am?"

"Think on it - You get yourself lost somewhere. Youer a sad little thing, all weak and-"

"Hey!"

"It's gettin' dark, and youer all scared and all that."

"I'm not scared of the dark anymore! I haven't been for years!"

"Where do you go?"

"I'd try and find shelter? Or- Or maybe an adult?"

"Bingo." Drippy hops back to life. "Let's go ruffle some shopkeeper feathers." 

As the sun sets on Oliver's first day in the new world, he can't deny: This is the best he has felt in a long four days. 

"Oh, you wonderful young man…" The tone in the mother's voice makes him swell. "Thank you so much, dearie." 

"It's no trouble, ma'am." He bows again - Now confident that it's the right thing to do. "I'm just glad that your boys are safe now."

"Yes, yes, and I will take greater care to keep them out of trouble." She pats him on the shoulder.

Her touch almost makes him wince - He bites it back to be polite. 

"You run along now, okay? You must be exhausted, you poor thing…" She thumbs through her apron for something. "Here, take this with you. Fresh out of the oven. All that exercise must've given you an appetite…." She places a baked treat in his hands, all wrapped up in a fine, silk handkerchief.

Still warm.

His vision blurs.

"Gah, there's kind, en't it?" Thankfully, Drippy comes to the rescue. "Alright, Ollie-boy, let's get ourselves home before this goes cold."

"Right. Th- Thank you, ma'am." He hugs the sweet to his chest. "I hope your boys will be okay."

The streets of Ding Dong Dell are quieter now.

There's no one staring at them now - A fact Oliver is very grateful for.

Drippy's lantern lights the walk through the cobbled streets.

"We'll need a room for the Cat's Cradle foer the night, remember where that is?" Drippy asks, bounding alongside.

"Yeah, we, uh, we walked past it." Oliver pauses. "A lot."

"Sure did." The fairy nods. "You've had a good day today, Bunting."

"Really? You think so?" He perks up somewhat. 

"Course I do! Cast youer first spell, battled a guardian and won, mended a broken heart, and all those errands." He gives a small, enthusiastic punch into the air. "You did good, Ollie-Boy."

The swirly feeling inside him rears it's head again, bringing a smile to his face. "It felt good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He nods, completely sure. "It felt really good."

"Well, stick to that attitude, it'll serve you good, lad!" The fairy grins. 

"Oh, don't you worry," Oliver finds himself laughing , a joy he doesn't recognize flooding him from head to foot.  "I'm not stopping any time soon!" 

Chapter Text

Sleep .

Of all the things Drippy has missed whilst he was a doll, that might be the number one. 

Sure, in a way it was restful, but… No it wasn't.

It really wasn't.

It really, really wasn't. 

It was like being frozen. Having his eyes stapled open. His limbs not his own. His body not his own.

His mind not his own.

It was like death, he imagines.

But now, he finds himself rather comfortable, nestled atop a large, feathered pillow. The linen engulfs him entirely; the rest of the world feels impossibly far away.

He feels rested . 

He feels revived . 

He dreamt of the Fairyground - Of being on the stage again. He dreamt of food. He dreamt of sleep . He dreamt of all the things he hasn't seen in so long. He dreamt of Smiley 'n' Surly, of his Ma, of the littlies. 

Even now, he still feels rather like he's dreaming. 

He rolls over on his cushion, a sunbeam perfectly warming his whole body. "There's beautiful…" A yawn pushes through him; he stretches out his arms and legs as far as they'll go.

"Oh, Good Morning, Mr Drippy." A gentle voice calls from the other side of the room.

Oliver does not look like he has slept at all. He's already up and dressed for the day, his bed all made up, looking almost untouched. He sits on the floor, the Wizard's Companion open in front of him, and his journal beside it.

"Blimey, at work already?" The fairy hops down, sitting across from him. "What's all this then?"

The boy laughs nervously. "I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd do some studying."

"Studying?" Drippy blinks, eyes wide. "Is that what's fun foer kids these days? No kicking a ball about? No leisure?"

He pouts. "I just wanted to learn some more so I didn't have to ask you so many questions."

"Oh, is that it? Youe're replacing me now?" He puffs up.

"Now, now, fairy…" A gentle, yet booming voice echoes from behind him.

Drippy leaps out of his skin.

The Telling Stone hovers a few feet in the air, smiling down at him without a care in the world. "There is no need to get jealous. You should be proud of your student for expanding his wisdom."

"Yeah, yeah, and you should learn not to creep up on people, stoneface." He huffs, arms folded. "Right-O!" He hops over to Oliver. "Impress me. What have you learned whilst I was out?"

"I think I understand star signs now!" He grins, proud. "It goes in a circle, sort of. Sun attacks moon, moon attacks star, star attacks sun."

"And what about planet, eh?"

Oliver closes his eyes, concentrating deeply. "Double planets are strong against everything, but are vulnerable to Single Planets. Single Planets aren't strong or weak against anything else, just their strength against Double Planets."

"Not too shabby, Ollie-boy!" He gives the boy a small slap on the back. "Not quite perfect either, but we can work on that later, can't we? Shall we get on with the show?"

"Oh, uhm- We could, but actually…" Oliver shrinks a little. "I actually had… a few questions I wanted to ask you?"

"Ah, you still need me, eh, do you?" He sticks his lantern up, proud. "Lord Drippy can't be replaced by a simple textbook, eh?"

"Right, yeah." He flicks through the pages, pages about familiars flying past until he reaches provisions. "What does a Phoenix Feather… do?" His voice is quiet, hollow. "What does it mean by revival?"

"Oh, Ollie-boy…" 

What he's implying does not need to be said.

All three of them know.

Before Drippy can find the correct response, Oliver speaks again.

"I dreamt of her last night." His voice crackles.

Suddenly, calling him Bunting doesn't seem quite so funny anymore. 

"Of course you did." Drippy sighs.

The Telling Stone swirls himself back into the bottomless bag - Helpful as ever , the fairy thinks to himself. 

Silence fills the room.

"I'm…" Oliver tries to speak for a moment, but nothing comes out other than blubbering stutters. 

What can Drippy possibly say? Even if they do find and save Alicia, it won't change what happened . Whilst it might be fine in the end, it isn't fine now . No amount of reassuring the boy that it will be okay one day will make him feel okay now. 

He pats Oliver on the knee, leaning into him. "You're grievin', boy-bach." He knows it's not the most productive thing to say, but it's… 

Well, it's something, right?

"When you- When you were a doll," He blinks back tears, his face pulled tight, "Could you- You said you could hear her- Hear us?"

He remembers being held. Her hands were soft as she fixed up the stitches on his neck. She had a scar in the exact same place as Alicia on the side of her wrist. Not long after they had met, the Great Sage had slipped ever so slightly whilst fighting a Pike Tyke, and it had caught her just a little close. Allie had the same mark, but only now Drippy didn't know the cause.

She was musical in a way that Alicia never was, always practicing with her instruments. The house was constantly full of lulling noise, not at all like when they had been on the road and together sung folk tunes completely out of key. 

He remembers darkness. Without his lantern, the world had been dark . He remembers being cuddled up against Oliver's chest, unable to see a single thing. He remembers being squeezed tighter than he would've thought a five year old was capable of.

He remembers being warm.

"Yeah, somewhat." Drippy murmurs after a moment. "She was a good lass."

That at least makes Oliver smile. "Yeah, yeah, she really was." He gives a small giggle. "Feels silly to think  of my mom as a lass…" 

"Wel, what else am I meant to call her, mun?" Drippy plays along, feeding the flame. If it makes the kid laugh, then that's the main thing. "Can't call her my mam now, can I? Blimey, I hope you don't cross 'er path anytime soon."

"You have a mom?"

"Course I flippin' do!" It's an effort to hide his grin, playing the role of deeply shocked and offended that he knows will make the boy laugh. "What, do you think fairies just pop outta the ground fully grown? Talk about uneducated!"

"I'm sorry!" Oliver pouts, but there's still that levity in his voice. "Mom told me she made you!"

"Ah, well, see," How does he navigate this; no matter what he does he can't call Allie a liar, "She definitely fixed me up a lil' bit." He waves his lantern. "Decked me up with some fancy upgrades, now, didn't she? Those were some pricey buttons, Ollie-boy!"

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really really." He softens for a moment. "She put in all the effort for you, you know?"

"Yeah," Oliver tugs on his sleeves, bashful, "Yeah, I do."

A small pause, before the boy speaks again.

"And I'm going to put in all the effort for her."