Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A few minutes ago, Vaugarde was once again saved, et cetera, et cetera, and now (just as it always is for this moment in time) everything is right with the world. How could anything be wrong now the King is dead, and you and your friends stand in the Head Housemaiden’s courtyard, the sky bright and clear above you.

Everything is set up ready for a happy ending.

You barely hear the chatter from the Head Housemaiden, but you’ve now listened to this little speech that you don’t need to listen to it. The rhythm of talking, complete with awkward pauses when you ignore where your cue was meant to be filled in, are ones you’ve memorised beginning to end.

Soon as the ‘end’ of the conversation comes, you turn on your heel and walk away towards the stairs at the entry to the courtyard. Taking up a post, staring off down the long passage towards where you just defeated the king…you try not to think about anything.

That is difficult, but you don’t mind it much.

You’ve only got to kill a few more minutes and then will come the ending of loop 275, something that now approaching with it's usual unstoppable inevitably.  You are nearly sure there is not a damned point to any of this, beyond there being an error in someone’s calculations or misinterpreted intent. Wish Craft is worse than Expression Craft and that is not a conclusion you’ve reached lightly, or willingly. But such a thing is true, and will continue to be so, no matter how little you like it.

Best to accept as it is.

That is the only thing you can do.

…Strange you feel so empty right now. Stranger still for how you’re not sure why.

This loop was awkward, but nothing so shocking that you should be feeling like this. If anything, this loop should be considered a good one for all the steps of progress made. In fact, right now you should be breathing easy for having finally after nearly 300 loops found what might be a way to sleep and then wake up the next morning! For a complete accident leading from demanding to lean Healing Craft from Mirabelle, you barely even care about the contents of what you are learning – why WOULD you, when this has turned out to be the one reliable way for you to get sleep at night!

You were so eager to test it again that you nearly repeated the effort in the middle of the night just to be sure you could. Thankfully you resisted, and so were able to experience the bliss of finding out you’d exhausted yourself so well that you could go back to sleep, and stay asleep for another six after you woke up briefly in the middle of the night!

More than that, you now understand the reasons Loop acts as they do. Yes there are questions you still have, but none that are important. What does it matter that Loop didn’t tell you of who they once were, what does it matter that they didn’t even expect you to figure it out, if they thought you’d come to hate them for this – that’s all things you’d expect from them. It certainly shouldn’t matter that you can tell there is something strange and awkward going on with Loop, and that when they get their words together their assumptions and guesses will be thrown at you like a brick.

No matter that you can feel the ticking timer counting down loud inside your head regarding ‘how long until Loop decides that nothing you say matters’ to go with a deep and itchy dread of not knowing why Loop –

No.

None.

Of.

That.

Matters .

You decided this. It does not matter, you will not let it matter, and it will continue not mattering – you refuse to let Loop win and be right in fearing you’d react badly to anything at this point. After months of effort to finally develop enough of a connection to have a normal conversation with them…you refuse to even acknowledge that there’s a potential of deeper feelings about this damned mess.

Gems, what could your problem be at this point when even that other, final and longest aching constant of a problem has been long solved, and you’ve worked out a system to keep Siffrin alive –

Maybe it’s just the standing here that’s annoying you now?

You can’t stand this stillness.

This inaction.

Somehow making progress on some points make the other bits, the parts of you that want to burn with righteous fury, and to break and burn things until something changes…all the colder. You used to have to put all your effort into shoving back down that passionate rage that made you snap so easily. And…you do still struggle against it, in a way? But not as you did – your effort now is a cold thing, where the fury is ever present, and yet its smouldering in your feels empty like those sparkling dots you glance at in the night sky from time to time.

Maybe if you move, find another limit to test by walking down those stairs you might find out how far from this courtyard you can get before the world snaps back into place, resetting the loops that way. A pointless experiment most likely…but one that would save you standing here alone with your thoughts and dreads for the next loop.

That alone is reason to test this and see how far you can walk before the loop resets.

You shift, foot lifting as you act on that thought before it can slip away into uncertainty – and as you do, a hand grabs your arm, curling tight about your elbow, stopping you before you even take a step.

“Hey. Odile?”

You obey the implied demand, even if you give no reaction or response beyond half turning back towards the grabber to stare flatly down at them. Siffrin stares back at you, fingers tightening about your elbow enough to briefly cause pain but otherwise saying nothing. Like the rest of that cursed conversation you had with them last night which had been all demands for things he’s clearly been rather unwilling to give you in return.

Typical.

“What is it, Siffrin,” you ask, and he flinches at your tone, something you barely acknowledge even if there is the expected flash of discomfort in your chest echoing the sight of it.

“Just…wondered where you were going,” Siffrin asks.

“To have a short walk to clear my head before everything loops again. Why? Where do you think I could go that would matter in any way, Siffrin?” you say, the unvoiced snarl of ‘Will you stop FUSSING at me for things that don’t matter and that cannot matter beyond the next ten minutes?’ one you’re aware that Siffrin will likely still recognise.

However, no matter how much Siffrin notices, he doesn’t flinch this time.

“Okay, fair but would you put that off a moment or two? I wanted to have a quick…talk. With you. Before the whole…you know. Looping back thing.”

“Haven’t we talked enough at this point,” you reply, and jerk your arm free of Siffrin’s now lose grip.

“No…uh, we really haven’t. Apart from everything else, no one’s yet explained that thing your eyes did,” Siffrin says.

You bite into that sentiment and the raw nervousness of Siffrin, finding the conclusion of what this is about comes easily to you. “No matter what you might imagine, that little flash of trouble is due to a long running problem I’ve got with Isabeau, not any secret distant for you or Loop – ”

“Yeah, sure, but you know that your eyes had already gone weird once before Isabeau arrived?”

“They…had?”

“Yup. Happened just before Loop interrupted.”

Your eyes unfocus as you try and figure out what could have caused your control to slip in that moment –

“And…it’s happened again about five times over today. While we went through the house. The others are all just too anxious to mention it, but since you’re about to loop back…well I figured someone should tell you about this. Like this isn’t that big a deal, right? From what Loop told me…that’s like a…stress reaction? Like a stomach ache or acne?” Siffrin asks with a very nearly convincingly casual tone.

Squeezing your eyes shut, your breath hisses between your teeth, because gems, you do not need this energy in your damned shattering life.

“Something…like that,” you manage to force out.

“What’s stressing you right now? Just like…pick something, even if it’s one of the petty things you’re way too adult to really care about…but it might help you to complain about some of this whole thing, just for a moment?”

Staring down at Siffrin you force up the corners of your mouth into a flat smile that likely has all the warmth of a frozen brick. “That would be an utterly pointless activity to waste their time on, more so because I’ve no idea what they hope to achieve by this when you will forget all of this in the next ten minutes.”

“I…” Siffrin deflates slightly, head tipping forward as they hide under their hat and mutter, “Guess that’s not…completely wrong.”

“Wonder of wonders, for once in your life you can understand my point.”

Siffrin’s head snaps up, same as his eyebrows and you take a moment to assess if you were maybe being a little harsh.

…Mm….

No.

You think…not.

You are being reasonably harsh, in an unpleasant way that will have no consequences beyond this moment even. Considering Loop and Siffrin share this little flaw this really isn’t that harsh at all –

“By the way, your eyes have gone weird again,” Siffrin says, voice cutting through the internal spiral more effectively than a knife would have.

Of course they bloody have – more than that, you are also shaking again, thought you've no idea if it's adrenaline, rage, or something else.

How…frustrating.

No.

How annoying.

How dare this little fool –

“See that’s why you should probably talk to me now. I’m not going to remember anything…and if you yell at me a little, you might get some of this anxious energy out of your system,” Siffrin says and no matter his tone is light, their expression is not.

You really do wish you could blame Siffrin for that heartless comment, but you can’t. And even just thinking about that...you are too tired to keep arguing with Siffrin, knowing there’s likely no good think you would be better than that. You know down to your bones this is all your fault.  No matter what you try and change about yourself, you’ll likely always be incapable of truly managing to weed out your worst and most vicious traits.

Ah, but…even knowing it’s pointless…it’s a REAL shattering shame that you are, as you’ve always been, far too easily dragged into derangement by your heart.

No matter how irrational it is, you still want...

...you...all you want…is…

…is…….

…you’ve no idea what you want.

Not from them. From yourself. From this hell of time stuck on repeat like a broken record. From the broken Craft that caused this, and you might not be capable of fixing. But wanting things isn’t enough reason to be such a useless idiot that you take out your frustration on your companions more then you must. That is not something you dare indulge. You need to be focused.

You must sure that you don’t crack, don’t give an inch, don’t let any negative feeling seep through or else when you loop back and go to the Favour Tree –

“Odile, we really need to talk about this before Loop jumps to some weird conclusion and does something stupid trying to – ”

Eyes snapping up, you find Siffrin stepping forward -

 – no.

Reacting by instantly taking one step back to evade Siffrin was a poor idea. It’s sheer luck that you remember at the last moment that you are next to the stairs and so don’t fall, which knowing your luck would have broken your damned neck. Still your breath does jerk your chest at the burst of adrenaline, and your bad knee creaks unhappily, during that long moment it takes to be sure your footing is stable. The two of you stay frozen a long moment, long enough for your eyes to drift down to the hand that Siffrin had snapped out, in case you hadn’t managed to get your balance back.

 A hand that…lingers there, like Siffrin is considering if he should carry through anyway and help you take that single step back up from the stairs to the courtyard. Fury…cold and empty as it is, grows just a fraction warmer the longer that hand remains held out towards you – and knowing that is likely an incredibly uncharitable read doesn’t make it easier to ignore. Siffrin, forever holding out a hand when you don’t need it, even as they never give a damned inch of such weakness in return. Always ready to offer anything, and always ready to shy away the second that you bite back even a little.

How dare they ask you take out your rage on them, when they can’t even handle a mere glare without cowering or –

Siffrin’s hand closes into a fist, and he sighs with audible irritation. “You…are really annoying when you give me the silent treatment. That’s why I prefer yelling or complaining – way easier to be sure what you’re thinking when you open your mouth and use your words over this wordless glaring thing. I swear you’re like the WORST person ever when it comes to being clear about things!”

You blink.

That…sounded annoyed?

And…Siffrin…is glaring at you, isn’t he.

He’s not even cracking jokes or trying to avoid unsettling you, and...that is something they were doing yesterday too. Your suppressed fury has shaken them…but Siffrin hasn’t backed away. Hasn’t even flinched, no matter after your untended step down a level you two a rather closer to an equal eye level then you usually are. You’ve been so tied up with the problem of Loop, with your investigations into Wish Craft and the like, you’d not really thought about how Siffrin’s behaviour changed during loops you….

Is this change really because of a single hug? It can’t be something so ridiculous. What were the exact words that Siffrin had used? Something like ‘…you’d not have done that if you thought me a co-worker – ’?

“Odile, no matter what you think of me, I am not going to just go away because you’re glaring at me. So you need to either get over this and start talking to me like an adult, or – ”

Siffrin just took another step towards you, and you find you’re not listening to their words anymore, distracted by a weird and tangled train of thought bubbling up from the depths of your mind. They’re now very close, and yet…think time you’re not fighting the urge to step away again. Not when in the fizzing mess of crossed wires that make up the chaos of your thoughts there is taking shape an idea to prove to this damned fool you see them as far dearer than an associate.

Of all the stupid things they might have said that is one of the most foolish of all…but if the only way to convince an idiot is to become one too, then maybe that is where the answer might be stupid as they are.

And…well, for something so deeply stupid, there is also something beautifully direct about this solution.

Leaning your weight onto your good knee, reach out and take hold of Siffrin’s collar, pulling them such so they take another stumbling step towards you.

“Don’t get any strange ideas. My intentions towards you are strictly platonic,” you say.

Siffrin’s eyebrows rise to frankly ridiculous heights, a flash of panic and idiotic curiosity passing over his face. You ignore all of that and pull them up, using momentum to see through to the end this damned stupid idea you’ve apparently committed to testing.

It’s not the worst kiss ever.

Certainly, Siffrin does freeze up worse than when you hugged them that first time, but you don’t take that personally. In many ways that stillness helps make this feel as casual as you’d intended it to be. Lucky maybe – your experience with kissing tends to be motivated by desperate and vicious sort of sexual intent…or distant memories of when you were still a child, and that sort of affection was occasionally given you.

Still, you begin wondering if this is a failed experiment as Siffrin remains frozen, until there comes the shifting of Siffrin’s arm moving up and tangling into the cloth of your jacket…but that’s it. You’d thought they would pull away to demand some answers to this once the surprise passed, but it seems that’s not their intent. Same as how, no matter that the tight hold is clearly some flavour of desperate, it doesn’t suggest any sort of sexual undertones.  

The only…something like a sudden violent of longing for…

…what exactly?

It can’t be just basic physical closeness…or then again, it might be partly that? You do know that the moment Siffrin can ask for more affection…he always does.

From anyone offering…or any of you offering –

[The Traveller gains Memory of Ends. The Traveller will always remember this.]

[When Memory of Ends is equipped, The Traveller will always have an impression of how a turn in battle will end. Because of this, his Speed will be automatically boosted at the start of a battle.]

You stiffen at the sudden arrival of the strange extra mystery voice, the one that has now multiple times flickered into your mind to give memories in the place of Loop. If Siffrin noticed the increase of tension, or if they’d decided on their own terms this was enough, you’re not sure. All you know is that there’s no time to think about it when Siffrin is finally pulling back, (for all he does keep a firm hold onto your coat) as they stare at you.

 Returning the look with as much dignity as you can consider the circumstances, you fish about for what it was you meant to say until you find something enough like it to work. “Do you think that I’d do that if I didn’t think us friends?” you ask flatly.

The slow nod from Siffrin is one tangled among multiple strong feelings.

“Yup! I do not think that – you definitely won the argument soundly,” Siffrin replies distantly. “Hey…gotta ask this because I’ll explode if I don’t, but would you do that again some time in another loop?”

You narrow your eyes, trying to figure out what it is that Siffrin is trying to get you to admit or commit to.

Siffrin…laughs?

“Hey. Hey. Odile. Did Isabeau see that completely normal bro kiss between friends?”

Frowning because why is that relevant, you glance up before you can snap back ‘why would Isabeau care in the slightest’ to see…huh. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him glaring with that particular flavour of emotion on his face. Considering how black that glare is, you can’t resist raising a hand to gesture at back at Isabeau to try and figure out why he’s doing that, and make him cut it out.

Isabeau finally seems to realise that you can see him glaring and jumps half a foot in the air before swinging away, still…very much…not happy about something…?

“Gems, what is his problem,” you mutter. “Is he…jealous? Why?”

Siffrin actively giggles this time, with the energy of someone riding an adrenaline high or possibly one derived from an illegal substance. “You should kiss me again. Partly because I liked it, but also because I really want to see what Isa will do.”

“That is the gremlin energy talking, Siffrin. We do not indulge the gremlin energy…even when it is very funny to do so,” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

“Come on, please?” Siffrin wheedles. “Maybe this way he’ll get over his nerves enough to kiss me out of sheer irritation, rather than crashing from anxiety again before he gets that far.”

“You are…aware of his crush on you then?”

“Uh. Yeah? I’m not stupid. He’s pretty obvious. It’s cute.”

“Then why haven’t you done anything about it?” you ask still processing that Siffrin is not as obvious as previously suspected.

“Don’t think Isa’s had many like…proper relationships. And also…I really do like him too. Like properly like, in a way where I want the relationship to work. Mostly when I do stuff like that it’s because I think something like ‘eh! They seem nice enough. Sure, we can date for a bit.’ Probably also why those other relationships really didn’t last long at all before something went wrong, and we broke up, now I think about it?”

You remove Siffrin’s hand from your coat, partly so you can get off the stairs and lean against the railing to stop your knee complaining, but also partly to see if this way Isabeau stops glaring at you. That glare is beginning to unsettle you slightly, if only because you’re surprised Isabeau’s the nerve to keep doing it. Siffrin…doesn’t even blink at you moving away. There’s none of the expected worry or no concern like they’d normal show if they even vaguely suspected you were deliberly putting distance between you both.

“Didn’t take you for a serial heartbreaker,” you reply, wondering at how you’re the one more thrown by this conversation now.

Siffrin shrugs. “Hey, I didn’t know most of them well enough for anyone to be heartbroken. Most of what I got out of those relationships was a reliable bed to crash for a few days or weeks.”

“I thought that you were disinterested in all bed activity that weren’t sleeping.”

“I am, but like, I can cope with that sort of thing fine if I’m getting something out of it. Like if it’s sleeping in the forest or a bit of fooling about, followed by me getting a bed? Yeah, I got no problems with that sort of trade,” Siffrin pauses, stretching their nose as they add half under their breath. “Pretty sure I’ll also be fine with it if I liked that someone and they were into that stuff, but…it’s not really like I’ve had a chance to test that.”

You slowly nod, finding this a rather disconcerting conversation for the context it gives your few passing chats with Loop regarding relationships.

“Do you think that is…bad?” Siffrin asks and there’s a slight flash of uncertainty in their voice now.

“Ah, no, no – I suppose I assumed that if you were more inclined to put your whole heart into all your relationships. Finding that you’re often…a little utilitarian about them is…not bad, just a little surprising.”

“Ah, well, if it helps? I often did care when I was younger. But see…ha, look when it’s in…uh…in close quarter most people do have a pretty server ‘cut off’ point for when they stop finding my weirdness amusing and start finding it annoying, no matter how invested I am in the relationship. It’s honestly easier for everyone if I keep myself a little more detached. It saves so much trouble later.”

You…don’t like how carelessly Siffrin says that something they must recognise, judging by how they raise an eyebrow in return.

“Why’re you looking at me like that? You’d know all about that…or I guess maybe you…do…but like…from my side. Hey, is that…why you are always so…standoffish? You’re worried about me getting sick of how grumpy you can be, same as I’m worried about you ditching me because you decide I’m too annoying?”

Freezing up is possibly the most incriminating thing you could ever do, but the sheer ease with which Siffrin picks up things they shouldn’t be able to – ha, and ones that aren’t even that true, but that to even IMPLY about you, means that Siffrin thinks you truly that pathetic –

“Ah. Sorry. Guess…that might have been closer to the mark then I thought it would,” Siffrin says like they’re talking about a pot of soup burning, but gems alive, judging by the way Siffrin’s eyes fix onto your face…your control slipped again, didn’t it.

You are beginning to wonder how often this has happened without you noticing over your life. Considering how few people you’ve known that would be willing to tell you if the untamed Expression of your living gem was bleeding through when it was one of clearly repressed rage…and you…really don’t like this train of thought much.

“Sorry. Made it a bit awkward, didn’t I?” says Siffrin.

“Yes. Awkward might be the word you could use,” you squeeze out between your teeth.

“…Would saying ‘bloody awkward’ be an improvement?” Siffrin asks.

You laugh. The taste of burnt sugar is heavy in your mouth…but it doesn’t feel as disgusting as it sometimes does. Maybe it’s a little more caramel than ash this time, even if it’s still mostly the latter.

“Yes, that might be closer to describing my feelings towards this mess,” you reply.

Siffrin hums, cloak shifting as they fold their arms. “Okay…and for the bits not involved in that…the rest is focused on you being as worried about Loop being weird about this, as you are as worried about me turning out to be fickle as I look, huh?”

There’s no point to replying to the thing that both of you know is a problem, and that neither of you can do anything about – and even LESS considering that particular phrasing Siffrin apparently thinks appropriate to use.

“I think…you should kiss them next and see what happens,” Siffrin says.

You glare at Siffrin, trying very hard not to make a snap judgement about that being mocking or a joke.

Hands rising in mimed surrender Siffrin gives a nervous laugh, quicky adding, “Uh, not saying you have to. Considering they’ve got that maybe, or maybe not, crush on you, kissing them could get weird REAL fast. But like my POINT of doing something really weird LIKE kiss them could help like give THEM context for how even if they are an annoying piece of cut glass you aren’t about to just ditch them. Just a thought!”

There…was a lot packed into that.

You stare at the energy needed to even begin unpacking half of it, before deciding to not do that for anything but the one central point in that mess of a run-on sentence. “You…might have a point. But only about some of that utter nonsense, and not about your recommendation of approach.”

“Thinking about it is all I could possibly ask of you. How much longer until time loops back anyway?”

“I…whenever I go talk to the Headhouse Maiden again it will loop back.”

“Really? That’s…huh. Okay that’s handy,” Siffrin frowns. “Hey, would you be willing to wait like…five more minutes to do that?”

“…Why.”

“Want to see if raw jealousy over you kissing me first will make Isabeau kiss me too. If I’ve not managed that in five minutes, then I doubt I’ll manage it with more. But if you’re willing to pause a moment, I’d really like to give it a shot.”

You roll your eyes and make a shooing gesture. “I’ll give you another ten if you want. I could use a chance to have a rest before looping back to decide how to deal with…your glowy friend.”

“Cool. Thanks Odile, you’re a great wingman. Hope your chat goes well, and remember that worst case, kissing them will defuse some of the chaos if only through sheer confusion!” Siffrin gives you a thumbs up and spins about to walk off towards Isabeau, leaving you rubbing your forehead.

That went…

…uh…

You’re not entirely sure how that went? But you do feel strangely…light. Like part of a weight has been removed from your chest, even if the ache remains. Leaning heavily against the pillar, you close your eyes, breathing out as you see if a little more tension might bleed away in the quiet of –

“Dile you CHEATER?!?”

Eyes snapping open you blink at Boniface who is glaring at you with surprisingly furious intent. What on earth this is about? Yes, you were pretty sure Isabeau wouldn’t confess, but that’s because you recognise a coward when you see one, and that accusation honestly that gives you even less idea what Boniface’s problem is?

“So THAT’S how you KNEW that Za wouldn’t tell Frin about his dumb crush before we fought the King!!! Also?!? WHY would YOU have crush on Frin?!? I expected Za to be that dumb, but I thought YOU were smarter than that – !!! Even if you tech-ni-cly won our bet I think you should give me a piggyback ride anyway because you CHEATED, even if Za didn’t confess before we fought the king!!!”

…So much for there being no consequences to your rash decisions. Rubbing a hand down your face, you’re still weight this thorny issue, when movement catches your eye, and you realise that Mirabelle is powerwalking towards you too.

“Madame?!? Since when – why did you kiss Siffrin?!? How was there a secret romance behind my back and you didn’t tell me?! I could have HELPED!?” Mirabelle says, in a whisper that’s only that because she’s making such effort to not yell.

Staring into the void of ideas inside you, wondering if there is ANY way to explain this without it being more embarrassing than it already is, you weight briefly the idea of cutting this short by walking off the balcony at the end of the courtyard. But even nearly 300 loops aren’t enough to make you consider that for longer than a moment before rejecting it completely. You will have well and truly lost it at the point where you think that in seriousness.

Besides, you did promise Siffrin five minutes, so surely you can stall that long –

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT WAS A PLATONIC FRIENDSHIP KISS?!?!? I DON’T THINK THAT’S EVEN A THING?!?!” Isabeau yells at the far end of the courtyard.

Pausing a moment, you take a moment to thank the Expression of Comedic Timing, before clearing your throat and glancing at Mirabelle because you’re pretty sure she’ll be the easier one to intimidate into letting this go.

“See? Like Siffrin clearly just told to Isabeau. Platonic friendship kiss. Nothing weird about it at all.”

“Uh. No?” Boniface says flatly. “That was one of the gross grownup kisses that goes on way too long, because they’re too weird about each other to get bored.”

“Siffrin is…anxious. I didn’t want to startle him…and he also…freeze up,” you try.

By Boniface’s glare…they’re utterly unmoved. Glancing to Mirabelle you find her staring at you…uh…what is that feeling written all over her face in such big writing – ?

“Do you really think – do you only want to kiss your friends because you like them, not for like…romantic reasons?” Mirabelle asks with the sort of intense feeling you were not prepared for.

Staring down how saying yes or no would make this a worse minefield, you take a third option. “I take it you have spent time thinking about kissing people without it being romantic, Mirabelle?”

“Yes?!? I mean why WOULDN’T I?!? Like!!! In romance novels they’re always saying that you can ONLY want to kiss people if you want to – ” Mirabelle cuts off, eyes snapping to Boniface as she realises she needs to find kid friend friendly way to phrase that, and setting one. “…Become…bonded partners with them.”

“Why would you think that. My sister, like MOST good family, kisses me. It’s totally different from what Frin and Dile where doing, and like REALLY normal, rather then fake pretend normal. Like, Nille’s read in a book that kids need hugs and kisses to be sure they’re loved or something. Dumb but like, eh. It’s not…like completely annoying and makes her happy, so I let her do it,” Boniface says, with forced casualness, making sure you both know they’re far too cool to want any of that attention.

You manage to avoid smiling, though less from amusement and more then considering how you’d made rather similar pronouncements about affection given you from your father and grandmother at their age. Of course, yours had been more vocal and vicious at the perceived distrust towards those adults due to thinking that they were obligated to sooth you out of fear for your poor self-control failing more often than it already did…

…ah…that easy affection from your father as a child had likely been one that had been less of an insult then you thought at the time…but well. There is nothing you can changed about that now, and at least now you feel a little less like smiling –

“Yes, yes, but that is not the same sort of kissing?! What I want is – ” Mirabelle’s hands flap about thankfully bring you attention back to the present as she grabs her next thought out of the air and demands, “Look! Madame, even if it was a REALLY long kiss, did you have any weird things happening with your heart beating faster? Or like…want to slow dance with Siffrin, right?!”

You consider Mirabelle’s frankly deeply weird choice of inuendo with the interest of a bug collector finding an all-new variety of insect living inside a draw of their desk. “No. I…do not want to slow dance with Siffrin, and while they do give me heart palpitations, that’s due to stress, which an entirely different to what you’re implying.”

Mirabelle’s eyes sparkle, and she quickly steps forward, grabbing up your hands – ?!? “Wait, you DO get it?!? I’m not weird for not getting any of that romance stuff but still wanting to be so close with my friends in weird ways?! This is a THING?!? People can love their friends and even want to hug and kiss them but also NOT be more then friends?!?”

“…If you want to…why not…?” you reply weakly, wondering at what point Mirabelle become the one determined to make this conversation weird as possible.

“Uh,” Mirabelle finally hesitates, looked worried as she asks tentatively. “Though…does it have to be on the mouth?”

“I would greatly prefer it not be…unless you insist otherwise like Siffrin did,” you reply, throwing Siffrin under the cart without hesitation as the loop will not last long enough for Siffrin to contradict you on that point.

“Oh, thank goodness – okay, that’s fine then!” Mirabelle beams.

Going up on her toes of her boots, Mirabelle waits politely for you to lean down slightly and places a very slight kiss onto your cheek. The smile she gives you when she steps away is…all but glowing with happiness. Smiling stiffly back, you glance down at Boniface and narrow your eyes.

Boniface stares flatly back. “I’m not kissing your cheek, Dile. That’s like…way too weird.”

“Thank you for being the only normal one here, Boniface,” you reply.

Mirabelle laughs, thankfully not insulted by that. “You know it’s a little funny, you can be weirdly cute when someone does something nice unexpectedly – you blush and everything, even as you pretend you hate things like this?”

You glare at her, and Mirabelle squeaks slightly, snapping to attention as clasps her hands before her.

“Oh! Uh – sorry! I didn’t mean to offend – it’s just weird to realise when you’re usually so focused and serious about everything…thinking that you always know way more than me is also why I thought you already knew you were meant to practice Healing Craft on fruit and wouldn’t need to cut yourself first…”

You avoid her eyes, because the vicious pain is still echoing through your shoulder might barely compared to the constant ache from your knee, and even in hindsight you regret nothing thanks to the sound sleep you got from that mistake...but none of that stops your misunderstanding from being a incredibly awkward one –

“WAIT is THAT why Dile and you were covered in blood?!? She cut herself to practice Healing Craft!?!” Boniface interrupts.

Mirabelle’s wince echoes your own, one far more deserved because gems alive had no one explained anything to the child yesterday – ??

“WAH – SIF WAITWAITWAITWAIT YOU MEAN YOU WANT TO KISS ME ROMANTICALLY?!?!?!”

You breathe out in sharp relief, turning about to catch a glimpse of Siffrin’s gestures to Isabeau confirming that yelled guess was a correct one – and that seemed to lead neatly into the cue for Siffrin to get that ‘romantic’ kiss they wanted. Wonderful! And with that you’ve finally received the needed cue to reset from this loop before anything else can happen to make it worse.

Stalking away from Mirabelle and Boniface, you ignore the startled noises at the abrupt ending to the chat, hoping that Boniface will distract Mirabelle long enough with the incoming painful questions enough for you to end this damned Loop already.

You are very ready to move on now.

That, however, does not appear to be a sentiment shared by the Head Housemaiden, judging by the annoyingly condescending smile as you approach. “Are you sure you’ve finished talking to all your companions? I think some of them still have things to say to you! You should finish what you began before – ”

“I am quite done, yes,” you interrupt flatly. “Now get on with this, will you? I’ve things to do and don’t feel like talking to you for longer than I must.”

“Yes, it will soon all be over, but that’s even more reason to properly wrap up these threads before the end comes – ”

“I said I am done talking and would now – ”

“There is very little time left, Researcher, but until the sand has completely run out, the Universe has nothing it needs me to say to you. Make use of that time, because even if you think it doesn’t matter how you waste it, I assure you that it very much does. I am telling you to turn about and take at least one more moment with your friends before you return. Please…delay a little longer, just to be sure you’ve said everything you want to tell them.”

Your breath catches harsh in your mouth at the glint of something in her eyes. Something that…you’ve no idea what that means. You’ve had a lot of thoughts about this woman, a lot of them petty and cruel, made easy to indulge for how little you know her from these tiny snippets of conversation. For how disconcerting your conversations with her have been, along with disorientating, frustrating, repetitive, and utterly pointless –

This is the first time you’ve felt…seen.

Like your soul is on display.

Or course your soul is not visible to anyone – you are only rambling at someone who can’t remember your actions or words, and this is only eye contact. No matter how viscerally uncomfortable it is right now, the only thing those about you can see in your eyes is bit more of the expression worn on your face. If they can read deeply into that – many others can too.

That’s not special.

Neither is it special to miss the obvious on other’s faces until they’re in tears about you or walking out to never speak with you again – and…even as you continue to stare at her…the Head Housemaiden continues to look back as if…

…you wish you were able to read people’s souls from looking into their eyes.

But alas. You can’t.

But…even if you can’t read her…you are now certain that there is something she knows that’s far deeper than you’d previously suspected. Yet no matter what she knows, in a few moments she will begin begging for forgiveness whether you have any interest in giving it or not and…that is one of those inevitabilities you cannot change. Maybe there’s good reason you’ve yet to think deeper on this, no matter you know you’ve mused on this before…quite a few times before at, in fact.

There’s no point to engage with a puppet of the ‘Universe’ and you are as done with her as you are with it.

“Will you shut up. I am a stranger, Euphrasie, and so there is nothing you should be able understand or find familiar in me,” you say a little distantly. “As such I can say with complete certainty that no matter how much I might wish that you had the ability to tell me anything useful, I KNOW you cannot do that – now will you stop dithering and do the one thing you can do for me: end this loop and send me back to the beginning, before I do it for you!”

Head Housemaiden Euphrasie stares at you…and finally the taste of sugar rises in your throat like bile, but at least this is familiar again, something you are very nearly grateful for, as you wait for the ‘ending’ to begin.

But it doesn’t – not as expected.

Not as expected at all in how, as the world grows distant and dark about you, the Head Housemaiden draws in a tight breath, and reaches out a hand towards you. Jerking back away without thinking, your arms rising defensively, and someone only now is there a pause as the Head Housemaiden blinks slowly, frowning at you as she struggles with something you couldn’t POSSIBLY guess at.

Slowly the Head Housemaiden lets her arm drop to hang limply at her side, as her expression flickers.

“Dile…?”

…What?

Gems alive what is going on!?!?!

Why is the Head Housemaiden looking at you like that – and did she really just use the same nickname as Boniface?! More than that, how the others haven’t noticed and run over to make this worse?! Or maybe they have noticed something but with the world closing in tight and dark about you, there simply isn’t space left for you to hear anything but static and the raspy pull of air into your lunges.

“Dile, what’s happening – what’s wrong with your eyes?” the Head Housemaiden asks.

“I am the ONLY one with a right to ask what’s wrong with you, and to know why YOU are talking like you know me?!?!?” you snap back.

“You…don’t remember me?” the Head Housemaiden says slowly, like she can’t quite believe it. “I can’t believe that everything we – Dile, even if the world broke, and something went quite terribly wrong, how are you now the one stuck between the cracks of this rotting world?! There’s no reason for it!?! I’m sorry, if I’d better understood what I was wishing for, maybe then the world would be as it was before – ”

The loop of time is closing tight about you and her, black and hungry, suffocating too in how it’s filling your throat, lunges and mouth. You should be fearful of this change, but you’re not.

This buzz of energy filling your ears is one of sudden bright and furious excitement.

“ – I’m sorry! I’m so sorry – ?! ” the Head Housemaiden rambles, showing that some things cannot change even if the rest does. “ – I don’t know how this changed so much!? Stars, how could a human ever begin to know understand what random spinning of the world, falling leaf of causality, what random ping of atoms at a molecular level might change things so horribly?! Why did humans ever figure out HOW to change the world like that when the result is such as this!? How are we meant to glue back together the broken fragments of time, heal the rotted mass of space, rebuilt to normal the world itself – how am I meant to help you, when I can’t say why you are now breaking down too – ?!?”

“Shut up you arrogant idiot – ” you hiss, settling into a proper battle stance as you stare her down. “You are NOT the centre of the world, no matter what you might believe! In fact, I think you’re currently rather out of the loop regarding ALL of the current niggling problems of the time loops if you think you were the one to trap me here, Head Housemaiden Euphrasie!!!”

Bubbling energy in you is screaming to lash out more; to attack and force her to engage properly so you might beat her down until she gives up all she knows. But before you can act out those threats, the Head Housemaiden is moving. Maybe it’s the world falling apart disorientating you, but there was no time for you to defend in any way before she’s past your guard.

“I’m so sorry, but I cannot fix this – ?!” the Head Housemaiden gasps out, clasping your face tight between her hands. “This is not how things should be – I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for it to end like this! I didn’t realise the King’s intent would prove to be so much stronger than mine – if I’d known what it was that the two Wishes colliding would make happen – ”

What is she – this person is not your friend so you’d tolerate that sort of touch without DAMNED good reason to. Slamming down your hands at her elbows, forcing her to let go of you, so you can put a few more steps between you both.

“Two wishes – ?! Then the King’s desires do have an effect upon – ” you begin, trying to get her on track, knowing you must to pry everything you can from her before this loop resets.

“Two Wishes?! If it was two there’s be a way to complete them both! If it was five Wishes, we could find overlap between them until they were technically fulfilled – my dear friend, there are so many wishes I cannot even SAY how many there are! Don’t you REALISE?!? EVERY SOUL IN VAUGARDE MAY HAVE WISHED!?!?!”

“I’d already guess that might be an issue long ago, and really?! Giving up because of a detail like that sounds like a skill issue,” you snap back, still brimming with satisfaction at how right you’ve proved to be. “Maybe that’s why the Universe dragged me into this mess – it knows that at heart I’m just better at this then you or Loop could be.”

“But what if it’s NOT?!?”

“What if it’s not what, Head Housemaiden ~ ?” you echo, with a viciously mocking edge. “Come on, use your words! You might as well, since the Universe seems to have not taken your voice from you for once!”

“What if you can’t fix this?!”

“Then I’ll give up,” you reply carelessly. “If Loop could manage to kill themselves to escape their hell, then it can’t be that hard to manage.”

“You…would kill yourself that easily?”

“Hardly. I’ve got better things to do right now then die yet. It’s just that death isn’t something that scares me, and I’d already prepared myself to die in battle against the King before that first loop began. This is no different, even if you might believe it, soft-hearted idiot you are.”

There is silence from the Head Housemaiden, as she stares helplessly at you.

Neither that nor the tears running down her face move you. You’ve not reason to care about how she feels. Really, so what if this damned stranger believes that you and she were friends in some long-destroyed timeline that she ended? What blind arrogance she to claim that means anything now. She’ll forget about this when the loop resets, same as everyone else.

But in that little pocket of stillness…there comes a flash of movement.

A small figure with a pointed hat and long cloak steps, out from behind the Head Housemaiden as if they’d been hiding there all along. For a moment you think that Siffrin has somehow managed to force their way into this bubble of stillness, but that is not an impression that lasts. Indeed, it takes no longer then a second glance to be certain of one thing.

That thing is not Siffrin.

That is a ghost – and more than that, it’s a hollow nearly forgotten ghost. That is a thing kept present by nothing by deeply held yearning for what’s long gone from the world. With how faded it is, it reminds you of the sort of ghost that would haunt a dying grandmother’s long dead spouse, where there’s not enough memory left to give true form to the ghost.

“I…I’m sorry, Dile,” the Head Housemaiden says, and you finally tear your eyes away from the ghost to her face again.

Lip curling slightly, you level a dispassionate glare at the Head Housemaiden, and…she smiles. Somehow, for as little as you care about or know her, it’s still one of the most painful things you’ve ever seen in your life.

“I really am deeply sorry that you must suffer like this and…I hope you’re right. I hope there is a way for you to figure out this thing I couldn’t. I really…really hope you do…because if you can’t, I know you’ll never forgive us for trapping you here,” the Head Housemaiden says.

Mouth opening to agree, you don’t get the chance to speak – not when the world about you cracks before you can even draw breath.

About you pieces of reality pull apart, readying to be rearranged back to the places they were at the beginning of yesterday morning. The last thing you see is the ghost watching you. Like the Stagehand they’re sparkling black, like the depths of the night splattered with those star things. But the difference of their expression is a thousand times starker than any superficial detail. Staring into dead cold eyes, there is a horrible lack of humanity left in this ghost, something truly wrong to see on something wearing Siffrin’s face.

****

[You feel the world ripple about you, like the pages of a book fluttering.]

[The world is always breaking, always failing, always rotting…but is that really so special? It’s not that much different from you, after all.]

****

You open your eyes.

…Loop 276.

….

……..

…Well.

That was interesting.

And rather vindicating too at that.

How nice that for as frustrating this damned mess is, and irrational the rules that dragged you into this hell, it seems that at least a few things are in your favour. Key among them all is that you are on the right track with how you’ve been tearing apart Wish Craft – everything the Head Housemaiden said all but confirms your suspicions on that score.

More than that…there is something deeply cheering in having finally managed (even if only in those last few minutes of the loop) to having got some real understanding with Siffrin. You’re not interested in trying the same method again (having Isabeau’s burning jealously aimed at you the rest of the loop doesn’t particularly compel you) but that’s hardly important. You now know it’s possible for Siffrin and you to start understanding each other. This isn’t insanity you’re chasing – just an awkward and very difficult problem to solve.

More than that, if you can solve the mysterious of Siffrin, then it’s possible too you might manage the same with Loop too. Honestly considering the utter curve balls all of your friends keep throwing at you, it’s likely a good idea to put just a little focus on unpicking all of them. Certainly, it would make for a decent side quest to distract you when needed, as you work through the mess of information and implications you got from the Head Housemaiden.

That woman…did she have more of a hand in this then you suspected? The theory is once more gaining some rather significant evidence in favour of the answer being yes. But what you can do with that information? That’s still a mystery…just as the identity of that ghost which stepped out of her shadow at the end is one too. Because for all it can’t have been anyone but Siffrin – no, that’s not quite right, is it? Siffrin and Loop have worn that face…and maybe even another echo of them before that.

Considering that, the ghost had to have been just that….

…but –

No.

There’s nothing else it could be then that.

Even if when the world breaks and resets, echoes of memory pass through to the Head Housemaiden, of previous ‘sets’ of loops bound to another…what use is there dwelling on such things. There’s no point to it. No matter how great an impact those wishes or loops had, or what changed…it doesn’t matter.

You cannot now know what happened in a timeline that’s been so utterly replaced, making it pointless to think of as more than a ‘mildly interesting fact’. You’re at least fairly sure that the current shift is less violent than previous ones, considering that Loop’s world and your’s align pretty closely. That hopefully means there’s more in favour of you doing what the Head Housemaiden thought impossible. Ha, and strange as it is to consider, you are mildly comforted that even when thinking of what it might have been like to have the Head Housemaiden along for the journey, clearly things weren’t that different.

She did know you well enough to know you’d not forgiven someone just because they begged.

‘Ding!’

…And here’s Siffrin.

At least you’ve got your lines for this part of the day sorted out.

Turning about, readying for ‘side quest’ needed to get them a hug and see they live, you’re thrown at the visible flinch they make on meeting your eyes. In the moment of dead stillness, a horrible realisation begins to dawn on you, even as it’s one you desperately hope isn’t true until they speak and dash that hope to pieces.

“Do your eyes…hurt? Uh, I really don’t mean to offend, but like…they’re doing a…real weird thing, and just in case you didn’t already know about it,” Siffrin says.

Breathing out very slowly as you wonder how you could possibly explain this, Siffrin to startles for a second time, eyes fixed on your mouth…

…and teeth.

…That…bodes even worse.

Well, maybe this isn’t as bad as it could be…?

“Siffrin. If you were to judge this on a scale between one and ten, how…noticeable is it?” you ask and, with only the slightest speck of hope you’re going to like the coming answer, force yourself to smile.

Judging by Siffrin’s subtle shift in expression alone –

…Gems alive.

“Odile, if I’m being really honest? It’s a solid ten. I will pretend I see nothing if you ask me to…but literally no one else is going to do that,” Siffrin replies.

“Do you think…would wearing tinted glasses help?” you ask.

“It…might not make it actively worse?”

….

Well shit.

Forget the rest of your plans, you need to find a way to deal with this as soon as possible – you are NOT going to be able to do anything as long as your friends keep getting distracted by this newly forced to the surface, and also DEEPLY stupid, problem.

Chapter Text

“So. Researcher. I’ve got a little questy-question for you…if you’re in a chatty mood that is?” Loop says.

You narrow your eyes just a little but decide to give Loop enough benefit of the doubt to hear out this question before dismissing it.

“Uh. See,” Loop awkwardly steeples their hands as they aim for ‘causal’ with the precision of a concussed archer, “We still haven't talked about the whole…you figuring out who I was ‘pre-Change'…have we?”

…It appears that Loop is determined to disappoint you.

“Yes, I rather think we did. You were very excitable able the whole thing, I seem to remember,” you reply flatly.

“…I…that is fair! I might have been a little dramatic during the whole chat…but I am being very calm about this now, aren’t I? And like, it’s completely reasonable for you to have thoughts and feelings about this, isn’t it – I’m hardly going to be mad about that when you’ve been so accepting of this idiot star’s own dramatics, huh?”

“My lack of conversation on this subject would be because, no matter your tendencies towards dramatics, it does not in fact matter in the slightest.”

Loop hesitates again, looking worried. You stare back, unmoved and impassive, but carefully without any sign of frustration or anger. Why would there be any sign of those feelings, when you aren’t in the slightest angry or frustrated with the idiot star.

“I know you are…annoyed with me in some way, but don’t want to…upset me by directly adressing – ” Loop tries to begin.

“ – Once again you are proving yourself to be a melodramatic fool. Really, I had hoped you’d be better then Siffrin in this, but it turns out that you are just as prone to these silly overreactions – ”

“ – Researcher your eyes have been tinted by that shade since beginning of the loop!? From that ALONE I can tell that you are – ” Loop continues a little helplessly and still not taking the hint.

“ – my eyes are not relevant to this current conversation,” you say with enough finality to hopefully end this.

“But didn’t you say that it only happens when you’re VERY angry or something like that?! And it only started happening AFTER our ‘little chat’!?!” Loop shoots back, REFUSING picking up on the obvious hint to let this go already.

“Not everything in my life revolves about you, Loop!”

“But – !”

“No ‘buts’ – this has NOTHING to do with you, the time loops, or Wish Craft – and that means that you’ve no place in this personal problem that I am perfectly able to deal with myself!”

“Researcher, this is NOT a reasonable – ”

Loop cuts off sharply even though this time you say nothing to interrupt them beyond a hissing breath rattling between your clenched teeth. That…likely means your control slipped badly enough to make your point for you.

Gems.

This…is all so incredibly annoying –

Your mouth tastes of burned sugar and you hate that nearly as much as the crawling discomfort of occupying the same place as your skin, teeth, flesh – gems, you loath down to your bones how your senses are buzzing, searching for something that isn’t there to be sensed, leaving you feeling ready to fight despite there being nothing to fight.

Yet none of that is the worst part of this.

Ha – no, the worst is that you have a tiny bit of hope.

Last loop there were…some changes by the end, enough so caught just a glimps of how the doubt Siffrin harbors can be dispelled by very particular sorts of proof. Yes, it takes a fair bit of effort, but what is effort when you know you can achieve the thing you thought impossible.

However…that ‘understanding’ also showed Siffrin could have the insight to see right through you and all the defences you through were so solid as it appears nothing but an instinctive part of you.

…You…liked that less.

Siffrin isn’t the only one with insight either. Loop now knows you…uncomfortably well, and far better than Siffrin does…in some ways at least. But you still do not know enough to pick, one way or the other, how much they’ve guessed, figured out, or knew from the start, but are resisting sharing due to…

…what?

What is it that is driving Loop’s thousand inexplicable tics all of which clearly tie back to something –

Glaring at them, aware of how the hardness of Loop’s eyes is one laced with fear, frustration (and maybe a little fury too) you cut that thought off.

Bury it.

Bury it all.

This is not the time to deal with this.

Steeling yourself, shoving back down all you feel you remain painfully aware of the lingering bitter-sweet taste in your mouth as you speak. “Loop, the time loops have no baring on flaws I had before they began. Please…just give me a little time to deal with this…and then we’ll talk.”

Loop’s eyes pinch slightly, in a way that suggests an uncomfortable smile, but they don’t say anything else, leaving uncomfortable silence to settle in between you like an unwanted houseguest.

You can’t stand silence right now. It’s painful, like the throbbing pain you’d expect from deep scratches left by a cat you’d only wanted to pet, and nearly intolerable with the pressure of everything hanging in your head desperate to be asked since the last piece clicked into place, and suddenly everything about Loop made sense –

Loop sighs, and your focus snaps back to them, as they finally speak.

“I…alright, Researcher. I’m beginning to really get what Stardust meant when going on about liking yelling more than silence…but I’m going to be all nice and understanding about this. I’ll even promise not to complain, no matter how long you procrastinate this for!”

“This is not procrastination,” you reply between your teeth.

“Silly me, of course it’s not. This is very normal putting off dealing with a tricky thing, just like how you’ve now spent hundreds of loops procrastinating looking for that Familytale you know is somewhere in this town,” Loop says cheerfully.

Attention sharpening like a knife edge, you wonder why they picked that example.

“Oh! I am sorry – I’d not realised you’d forgotten it, teehee~!” Loop beams at you, poker face cheery and utterly unreadable. “But! Since you do now remember it…maybe looking for that book now would prove a good tangent from thinking about the problem of lil old Loop?”

“…You are not a problem.”

“Sure I’m not,” Loop replies, voice fast as a whiplash, even as their tone remain benignly cheerful “Just like that book isn’t a problem either! I mean, you only spent a bunch of time looking for this book over literally dozens of loops…only to decide you didn’t care after finding out that it is somewhere in Dormont, ready to be found if you put in a tiny bit of effort to do so.”

You are perfectly aware that Loop is winding you up on purpose, but despite knowing that it doesn’t make this manipulation any less effective.

“I’ve been focused on Wish Craft – I rather think that recreational reading can wait until a time I do not have more relevant things to deal with,” you reply between your teeth before adding a little snidely. “That is of course assuming that you’ve not again forgotten to mention something critical that makes all my previous work there pointless?”

“Far as my useless memory can tell, I’ve told you all the very little I know about Wish Craft,” Loop says, with a painfully careful evenness. “But even if it’s a stupid distraction, well! All the better really! As just a tiny piece of advice from your good friend Loop? I think you might need a little break from all the stresses of this time looping thing, Researcher.”

“I am fine.”

Loop says nothing.

They do nothing but stare back you.

Well. It’s not like they need to say anything. Not when your unstable soul is reflected in every flaw of your slipping control. Gems you do not want to deal with that book right now – it’s not related to time loops, Wish Craft, and certainly not to Expression Craft.

Careless idiot. If you’d been just a little more careful you might have avoided Loop knowing you wanted this damned book – something you’re sure will prove to be filled with pathetically inaccurate expression of the dead, with all the ugly truth twisted until history faded into the background, and left only a story so nice that it made everything seem like it was inevitable all along –  

“…Researcher?” Loop asks carefully.

Head jerking up you blink at Loop, before smiling with your mouth alone. “Thank you for your suggestion. Since you were so kind as to remind me, I’ll add that task to the list of things I’ll look into…if I don’t find a more productive distraction to focus on instead.”

Loop snorts even if the noise is too flat to sound genuinely amused. “It was just a suggestion, and come one – why do you need be productive? This is a time loop. You can put off things as long as you want to – so! That being said, I look forward to what random thing you decide to do instead of talking to me – and don’t forget that your good friend Loop is here, if you ever decide you want talk!”

By force of will you decide to not take that as an attack, even if it was likely intended as one. Getting to your feet, you pause, glaring down at Loop

“I will be sure to do that, if I think of something I need help with,” you snap turning about and walking away, every step sends stabbing pain through your knee.

You ignore the pain and knee.

…Why did that little piece of cut glass have to decide to be clever.

There’s so much already visible bleeding through the cracks of your soul, like there’s not enough of a dirty taste in your mouth – gems, there is no reason for your control failing so badly – you’re not even angry?!

Okay, YES you are furious now – but that’s NOW, and its fury at yourself and WHATEVER is causing this to happen!?

For all there’s a carved-out gap in your chest, itching under your skin, tension pinging through your tendons and limbs – you are intimately familiarity with how anger ripples through you, and this isn’t anger –

But if you can’t blame anger for these cracks, then WHY on the SHATTERED GEM OF YOUR GRANDMOTHER IS THIS HAPPENING?!? That is your CORE. The default reaction to everything that your mind and body reaches for when you need to react. Anger defines you, for better or worse. This is why you are like how you are. You seek direct solutions through whatever is necessary and grow increasingly frustrated, snappish, ugly, until you REACH that end.

What else could be a truer expression of your Living Gem but for showing how you’re always needing to talk yourself down from using force to get the resolution to every problem you face?! Impossible something so fundamental might have changed and you didn’t notice.

This is likely just backlash from the Wish Craft. Something else must be causing this…or you’re currently experiencing such a background level of frustration that your anger really has gone so cold you can’t feel it. Ha! Even to your ears neither excuse sounds vaguely plausible, but what beyond making up platitudes to sooth yourself can be done about this?!

Not a damned thing – just as there is only one thing is certain in this mess. This is exactly as annoying as you predicted – and with that in mind, you will go on to predict that sitting about being irritated at yourself is unlikely to fix this. You’ve spent most of your life learning how to press down all the traits to you to present the illusion of control, only to find both your control and understanding of this problem where barely skin deep, ready to slip from your grasp the moment you glanced away.

But no matter that…you refuse to roll over and accept this. If you were going to give up and let the wild expression of your soul appear so vividly for all to see the rest of your life, you’d have done it a long time ago.

If the best you can hope for is the illusion of control?

Fine.

You can compromise.

You don’t need perfect – you only need it to be good enough to force this all back down where such things like this belong. You’ve done this before a thousand times – you will do it again now.

How hard could this possible be.

****

An hour later, standing in the bathroom of the Clocktower, you stare into the eyes of a stranger…or maybe a monster.

Fingers digging into the edge of the sink, your reassessment of this problem begins with near unnameable emotions as you realise every single one of the previous overreactions to your eyes were underselling the weirdness of whatever the SHATTERING HELL that shade is.

How a shade could be so wrong, so unnatural, so hauntingly like the taste of fresh blood, you’ve no idea, but you understand now why others focus on the shade of your eyes before the shape of them! 

Some warning of this would have been nice – ?! But then again, what could have possibly been said to really make you understand without first seeing it?!? 

Is this shade why the Head Housemaiden implied you were breaking!?

If it is…

…gems.

Like you didn’t have enough problems!?

Even in the moments of you observing it directly there’s fluctuation of the shade, growing vivid and fading to nearly appear the shade they should be, like an arrhythmic heartbeat.

…Gems. Maybe your earlier muses where less platitudes than you thought them to be – maybe there is something about the loops making this happen. If that’s true…then it might mean your task of fixing this will prove a great deal more difficult than you’d hoped it would be.

****

Dozens of loops pass, and with each new one you become increasingly vindicated by bitter assessment.

Nothing has worked.

Not a single of methods that you can usually weaponize against your stupid Living Gem has managed more than briefly turn your eyes back to normal. The only thing in your favour is that at least it’s not worse, something that cheers you little after the investigation into what ‘shade’ your eyes are produces little fruit.

All you know for sure is this is a colour, not a shade…and that is information that doesn’t help much.

There are limited resources on the subject and theory of colour, and none of them have any useful ‘references’ in them. How could they, when humans are not MEANT to see colour anymore!? Half the material is speculative, or based on scientific estimations of how colour works so technical you aren’t entirely sure what most of it means.

As for the other parts…those are frustratingly focused on the emotions meant to be communicated by colour, mostly by way of the author rambling over a collection of some of the most insipid poems ever put to paper. The rambling is not enlightening and leads to an argument among your friends about which colour your eyes are during the loop you reach that part of the loop.

When made aware of basic ‘colour theory’ during a loop Bonnie will always become certain your eyes are bleu, while Siffrin votes for vert, and Mirabelle for pourpre – personally you think that ALL of those are incorrect and put your money on jaune.

Only Isabeau had stayed out of the argument until the end, where he pointed out that the one colour that seemed to still be occasionally seen was the ‘weird’ shade that appeared when something was breaking. The argument from there devolves into one relating to if this was a ‘time of trouble’ or not, and if your eyes were weird because of the particular colour, or just weird in general because they HAD a colour at all.

You didn’t weigh in much during that part of the argument. You’d not been able to think of much to say (for or against) that wouldn’t involve needing to talk about the time loops and…that hadn’t much sparked joy. But no matter he had context about the loops, that did little to dilute the look Isabeau had given you after that tangent about colour had ended…

You…really don’t like how well he can read you, even when you’re trying to avoid being read.

Regardless, none of that tangent helped with the central problem, that is stopping your eyes acquiring that ‘colour’ thing at near any slight poke from anyone. The new knowledge that this might imply something in you is breaking was in the end only more incentive to stop them looking like that!

Yet a few more dozen loops of struggling after the ‘colour distraction’ and the best you can manage is partial control. With careful disconnect and ignoring everything but the book in your hands, you can repress some of the bleed through…but never all. No matter what you do there will always come a moment you slip up…and then the questions began again.

In the face of an impossible problem, you finally gave up and grabbed the one solution you could make stick – equipping the tinted glasses so that at least SOME of your little ‘problem’ might be hidden behind them. Still, wearing tinted glasses for entire loops…the questions this caused your allies to demand answers for did not decrease.

In fact, they might have got even more pointed and confused – but what else could you do?! You understand this as little as they do!?

Every new loop now leaves you constantly fighting, effort split between making up the curtest excuses you can to avoid talking about what’s wrong your eyes this time because you overacted to the most trivial thing or trying increasingly desperate experiments to try and get ANY control over your fraying mind.

Tired, too tired too even be truly angry, frustrated, and helpless over not being able to do anything about the ONE THING that should be yours to force to obey your will…really the only thing left here is pretending nothing’s happening.

…At least this is evidence for you being no different after all. No matter how time and space separate, past and potential futures it seems the path might not have to diverge that far at all. That is not comforting…but it is at least a familiar thing in a sea of things that are not, and far better then that lingering dread as you’d wondered if you had Changed so much for the worse and not noticed.

…You’ve spent nearly a year in this time loop.

You’re tired.

Stressed too.

But both things that have been true for 353 loops, and neither is likely to change anytime soon. No more then these damned loops are likely to change.

The world is stagnant. Rotting like a body left in the summer heat for days and days and days – and you have found yourself to be stagnant too. You’re stuck in a snippet of time barely longer than a day, where the world is always undone like a woven tapestry whose loose threads are tugged at softly, gently, until all the little progress made is no longer recognised by anything but memory. The only thing that can change here is you…

…and Loop too, you suppose…though you suspect that Loop is likely convinced they’re unchanging as they are dead –

No. You’re…not going to think about that.

….

Ah…353 loops. That is…altogether too long…but you’ve still little expectation of ending this hell anytime soon.

You’ve learned a lot of details of Wish Craft, unpicked elements of it, some of the logic – but you don’t understand it, and you still don’t know why you’re here. The only speck of understanding you’ve got is that it was a mistake…and the bad luck of everyone involved.

You are painfully aware that this hell is pointless.

Loop, fool that they are, might disagree with you! But pretending that life is a damned story is by far the most pointless thing in the world. You are sick of Loop weaving a picture of your suffering being planned, happening due to malicious intent rather than bad luck and random chance.

But…you do understand the urge. That is a more comforting fantasy then the hollow emptiness of reality where there’s no deeper meaning to life but what is projected onto it.

And no matter that life cannot ever be as clean as a story…that doesn’t mean all things won’t eventually come to an end. Confounding, loathsome, and impossible as these time loops are, they will not last forever. If for nothing else, entropy will at some point see the intent fuelling this hell runs out.

The question is how long.

…Thinking of hell as being a little shorter than eternity cheers you little. But when the world ticks on, repeating over and over to prove that people are ever condemned to being nothing but themselves, you grasp onto that unhappy certainty like the lifeline it isn’t.

Ha. Is it any wonder that such nice thoughts drive you to search for anything to distract you?

Reading the Familytale…sparks no joy but nothing else is crashing enough to grab your focus right now. There is clearly something you wrong with you – some reason your control is slipping without you being aware, what is applying such pressure to your living gem that it’s cracking under the pressure. You can’t even say why you’re stuck in this state, without any seething rage to pin blame on, and when paired with a growing dread for how long eternity might be…

….

Well.

Considering that?

You might be struggling, fighting tooth and nail, against whatever Change (or Changelessness) it is that afflicts you…but when it relates to her you LONG accepted that Change is simply impossible for some people. They are born as they are and will carry on making the same mistakes over and over again, no matter how many people cry and bleed due to those mistakes, and they will never learn a SHATTERING THING.

Ha. Maybe finding out the answer to this single question haunting this mess you call a life might prove to be a nice change of pace.

You could use some novelty in this circular existence you currently call ‘life’, and besides…there are a lot of ways to very very slowly begin a search like this. Considering how many books you’ve yet to read or catalogue in this town, you could draw out this process quite nicely by using this search to make a complete record of every book in Dormont.

Yes, if you were to be methodical, beginning this process with the first house of the far west of town and working your way through all the rest – one by one, nice, orderly, and methodical – you might take a very long time to get even the slightest hint of who in Dormont has the particular book you’re looking for.

And that sounds just perfect.

****

“ – Good morning, I am here taking inventory of every book in the village. Please list the titles of every book you currently hold in the house,” you announce, snapping open the text you’re currently using as a notebook, pen at the ready.

“Madame? Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?” the Small Boulangère askes.

“I was cursed by an unkind god for being an annoying child and asking stupid questions,” you reply flatly.

“…Really?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, but, uh, why do you want to know all the books we got in the house?” asked the Boulanger, who seems to have decided not to address the matter of ‘the curse’ something that earns him a small mark in his favour.

“Because I asked you tell me this,” you reply in an even tone, before adding a little tiredly, “…I’ll buy something from your shop, if that would help you cooperate faster.”

“Do you want to…take our books?” the girl beside him asks, also having wisely moved on to more relevant questions.

“No. I just want to know what the titles of the books are.”

“You want to…hear us tell you what books we got…and then…?” the Boulanger askes.

“Once I’ve written down every title I’ll leave and stop bothering you,” you say, raising an eyebrow as you wait to see if there’s another objection to be made.

The Boulanger and his daughter exchange a look that suggests both are still confused by what really should be a straightforward request. But even if they are making this difficult, you don’t mind much – that’s the point of tangents like this, after all. If you’d wanted to be efficient about this then you’d have talked to Mirabella and asked who in town went by that name so you could find the borrower of the Familytale more efficiently.

But you don’t and so haven’t.

“Wait, do you want books that are…OURS…or like…ANY book that we CURRENTLY have?” the girl askes.

“Any book that is in this house, at this exact moment,” you repeat, since given the time loops the distinction is literally pointless to make when you intend to record the book list by the location you found them in.

The small girl beams, like she’s personally delighted at this discovery (doubly strange considering how reluctant she was before) and chirps, “Okay!!!” as she disappears down behind the counter. You raise an eyebrow at her father, waiting to see if he knows what the girl’s doing, but by his bemused expression, he’s not got any idea what this is about either.

There’s the sound of rummaging at about floor level that stops a moment later so the girl can clamper back up onto her stool and

holds

up

the

Paperasse

Familytale.

“ – You should write about this one in your little book!” the girl announces, blissfully ignorant of the figurative brick she’s just throw though your defences. “Manon gave it to me! It’s full of nice stories! Dad was reading it and now it's mine and I can read it all by myself!!!”

“W-wait how did YOU get that – I thought I gave it to Antoine?!” her father asks.

“Yeah! And later Manon gave it to me!” the girl replies.

“But – ?!”

You tune out the continuing rambling of the pair, all current brain space taken up staring at the damned book that somehow ended up being the

first

book

you

found.

….

…You…were not prepared for this.

………WHY DID THE FIRST SHATTERING PERSON YOU ASK HAVE TO HAVE THAT DAMNED BOOK?!?!

Is there ANY way you could justify ignoring this?! Pretend you really DON’T want that book (because GEMS is that true) and just write down the title and tell the girl to put it away again – ?

– no.

You can’t do that…can you. If you don’t take the book, you’ll need to explain why when Loop asks later.

…Gems alive, you are your own worst enemy.

Clearing your throat, you make yourself tune back in a little as you interrupt the argument to ask, “Would you mind if I said that I…might make an exception for that book. I…didn’t know there were any Familytales in this town and…I’ve been looking for one to read for…a while.”

You feel your heart trying to shrivel up in your chest when you girl beams and holds out the book towards you without the decency to even hesitate. “Sure you can have it! It’s boring. I’m done reading it now.”

Staring at the book hanging in the air, you consider again walking out of the shop and away from but the book, but…you have committed this far. Might as well see this through to the bitter end.

You take the book.

It’s heavy in your hands, and heavier still in your bag when you place it inside, thanking the father and daughter before leaving the store. And…that’s that.

You have acquired a Familytale.

Just like you wanted to ~ !

….

…Gems.

You hope the Expressions are getting a good laugh from this, because honestly your existence at this point is the worst sort of joke.

Just…find somewhere quiet, a spot far from Dormont you can’t be interrupted, and once there you can decide if you’re going to read the thing seems to weigh your bag down more with every step, like a millstone wanting to drag you and it into the rushing black depths of a flooded river.

That’s the current task before you – focus on one thing at a time, and until you have the mental space to deal with the other things that bad as this is are still worse then this.

****

You likely shouldn’t be jogging through the forest trying to track the Researcher, but if you were good at paying attention to common sense then you’d likely not be stuck in a time loop – and besides that, what kind of idiot would listen to common sense when the alternative in FINALLY finding out what the Researcher’s deal is with Familytales?!

Cus?! Stars!? Did the Researcher really DID know that book was there the whole time?! You think not (considering the expression she wore on seeing the girl hold it up!) but BOY was it a hell to find one in the FIRST place she asked otherwise!?

Tracking the Researcher to the clearing that she’d taken as a reading spot is easy enough.

Her steps had led her to the same one that she’d used those times she’d felt like wrecking trees to get some sleep through craft exhaustion. The meaning behind her choosing this place to read the book might have worried you more if you’d thought she was thinking about her destination at all. But luckily (from her unfocused look walking out of Dormont) you’re pretty sure she didn’t think about the implications of picking this place at all.

Stepping into the edge of the clearing you’re just in time to see the Researcher…throw the book across the clearing.

The book hits a tree with the thump and fall to the ground in a crumpled heap.

You hesitate to reassess if maybe she did think about the implications of this clearing – in fact, maybe there is even genuine wisdom to the idea of turning about and pretending you didn’t find her. Even from here you can see how brightly coloured her eyes are, and the way her sharp breaths in and out are barely controlled by the ridged tension held through her whole body.

Yeah…if you were smart, you would sneak away before she notices you.

Alas, self-preservation is secondary to your duty as a stagehand and also your concern at why reading a book so dull looking was causing such a reaction as that. But still, you’re not completely stupid. Death might be temporary in a time loop, but the Researcher holding a grudge against you is NOT.

Taking a few tentative steps into the clearing you loud clear your throat as a generic warning of your presence.

The Researcher snaps about, hand half rising…before she realises who has just found her. At that point her hand snaps back down, tangling tightly into the other one in her lap, eyes wide with alarm as she measures your reaction to this. Stars above, you hate that expression – it’s like she thinks you a child likely to cry if forced to deal with conflict!?

For fucks sake, you are very able to deal with it – you are the CAUSE of most of the troubles in your life!? You have done NOTHING to deserve –

….

You…have done…nothing in the last few loops to deserve this…

…probably?

Uh…in deference to your role as assigned you by the universe to be a joke and a problem (and maybe because of unmentionable past sins), you are going to do the Researcher the favour of breaking the ice, just this once.

Snapping up your hands into an overacted mock alarm you chirp, “Ah! Researcher! Did you mistake my darkless face for an open book? Don’t worry, I’ll only take such comparisons from you as a compliment ~ !”

Eyes snapping to the Familytale laying in the dirt, the Researcher…continues to say absolutely nothing…which is a REAL bad sign honestly. Resisting the urge to twitch in unease at the continued silence, you clear your throat again and amble forward to stand next to her.

“Never thought I’d see you be so mean to a poor book. What did it do to deserve a fate like that – or was the cover was that ugly, huh?” you volunteer.

“…I…didn’t like it.”

“Guess reading a bunch of stories about complete strangers is a little dull.”

“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t open it,” she says hollowly.

“I could do that for you? Maybe I could find something offensive enough to give us reason to burn it!” you suggest, still hoping that ONE of these jokes will land.

There’s no response again.

…Again, that’s not a great sign, and neither is the way her hands are knitted into each other so tightly that her knuckles are darkless. Folding your own lightless hands behind your back, you fix your eyes on the middle distance beyond the fallen book and settle in to wait and see where she wants to go from here.

Looks like you’re not going to be finding out what’s up with the Familytale thing this loop. You know that pushing helps sometimes, but not when she’s already coiled tight – at points like this, leaving gaps in the conversation is far more helpful if you want her to open up a little.

Such tactics take patience, but no matter what she or Stardust think, you are good at silence. Good at patience too, even if it isn’t your favourite thing ever. But it doesn’t need to be, not when the Researcher sucks at it so badly, and rankles against silence like it’s a villain worse than the king. Wielding this knowledge against her…doesn’t feel great? But there aren’t that many options that do influence her, so you’ll work with the tools you have –

“There’s something that has been…weighing on me since I figured out who you were before…Changing,” the Researcher says at last and you frown, glancing down to scour her face for any hint as to where this is going as she continues, “I still think poking at this question will benefit neither of us…and more than that, I am fully aware that you likely won’t know the answer to this…and either way it will change nothing.”

This…is going to either be really weird, existentially challenging, or utterly hilarious. You’ve not got enough secrets left to be terrified by this, even if she clearly thinks you should be alarmed. But even if it is as dreadful a thing to face as she clearly thinks it is, you’d still want to try and answer – knowing the Researcher she’ll somehow drag this out of you anyway even if you DO refuse to answer.

“Alright. Ask away, your good friend Loop is ready to help if they can!” you reply shoving down your unease under as much false cheer as you can.

There’s a long pause – one that lasts exactly the wrong amount of time before she stutters, “T-the Universe.”

“…What about the Universe?”

“Tell me about it?” the Researcher winces, and waves a hand vaguely as she adds, “Anything you remember that is – or nothing if you don’t, that was just an – this isn’t really all that important. I’m just…curious.”

You are absolutely sure this is not the question she originally intended to ask …but well. What are you going to do about it? You can’t force her to tell you – might as well just play along and hope this ends up being a roundabout way to the same end point…although somehow you rather doubt it.

“Well! You know the whole weird thing the House of Change has for circles inside circles?” you begin in a bitterly sing song tone, “The ‘everything little thing is part, and inside of, something bigger’ thing? Yeah. The Universe is the thing everything else is inside of, making it the biggest thing ever, and giving it prime seats for watching the comedic farces of our general existence – is that enough or are there more specific questions you got about this?”

“I mean more…I assumed from how you speak of it that the Universe is god of some sort. Is that correct?”

“I…yes? In a way? I…think?” you reply, eyes unfocusing as you try and remember anything relevant to this. “I mean. It likely IS a god of some sort – but since it’s probably a pretty useless one, I can’t see that being important?”

“The Universe is a…useless god.”

“Uh,” you wince. “Nope, okay, that wasn’t right – I meant to say…the Universe is a…distant god. A bit like…the thing all the strings are attached to?”

“Strings?”

“Yeah, you know – ” you flatten your hands and hold them out before you and fingers wiggling. “The ones used to control puppets.”

There’s a brief pause, the Researcher’s fingers tapping out a stuttering rhythm against her knee as she thinks about that WAY too long.

“…Interesting,” the Researcher finally murmurs. “You and the King talk about the Universe very differently. He’s under the impression he’s puppeteering the Universe.”

“Yeah. Well,” you fold your arms tightly, not much liking this new tangent distraction of the Researcher. “The King can think that, but he’s blinding wrong.”

“Why?” the Researcher asks, prompting rather than disagreeing, but no matter her tone it doesn’t stop your hackles rising regardless.

“Because we do not lead the Universe – that would be like saying that an actor is the one writing the play! That’s not how it works,” you reply between your teeth, fingers biting hard into the insides of your elbows.

“But how do you know that with such certainty?” the Researcher counters like lightning, even as her voice remains soft as before.

“Because that’s not how the blinding world works!? Some people might have enough power like the King so they get to prance about, and play pretend they’re the centre of the universe – but it’s a joke, one they’re too dumb to see they’re turning themselves into!” you chirp, whirling about to beam down at the Researcher. “Cus hey, do you REALLY think The King has any control over the time loops?”

Eyes drifting back to the Familytale laying in the dirt a short way away, mouth twisting up as the tension drains away. “No. I don’t.”

“How about you then? Do you feel that you’re the one in control of these time loops – the one leading the Universe through this hell?”

“Not particularly, I’ll admit.”

“And just to be completely sure we’re on the same page here, how about me? Do you think that Loop – helpful loop, cursed even after their ignoble death to STILL be stuck here, helping with the loops – do you think that I have any blinding idea where this hell is leading us too?”

The Researcher…says nothing this time, and slowly the tension returns to her shoulders. Uh, that really should have been the easier one of all – ?!

“Hey, wait, do you really think that I DO have come sort of control – ?!?” you begin, not sure if you’re more furious or alarmed at the idea.

Startling like she only just remembered you exist, the Researcher snaps about, quickly gesturing as she replies, “No, I apologise, I got distracted with another unrelated thought. But since you apparently need me to say it – yes, I am VERY aware that you’ve not pulling any puppet strings here – gems, if you were to demand an honest assessment of me, I’d say that you couldn’t plot your way out of a wet paper bag without getting lost in the process.”

“HEY?!?! I’m not THAT – ?!? I could totally plot my way out of a – I’m better at plotting then YOU!!! You spent dozens of loops obsessing over CRAB SOUP!?!?!”

“You spent hundreds of loops procrastinating telling me about how you were Siffrin because you were too embarrassed to admit you needed help and thought I’d be mad at you for it.”

“That was not REMOTELY – you are WILDLY reinterpreting that for your own ends?!?!?”

“Oh, I am sorry, I thought we were playing a game of ‘let’s make up stories that only vaguely resemble reality and then get upset about it’,” the Researcher replies with infuriating calm, as she raises an eyebrow at you.

You feel your eye twitch. “If it wouldn’t be very rude to do it, I need you to know that I’d have already bitten off your finger again Researcher,” you say with cheerful fury.

Half closing one eye, the Researcher considers you, the colour tinting it duller now, but still very much present.

“Wow. Are you…really thinking about it? HA! I think my pile of evidence for you having a thing for biting is more right than expected – ” you begin, only to cut off when her fingers close tight about your wrist.

“I managed to make…something like progress a while back. On one of those impossible long-term tasks I set myself,” the Researcher says, and if you were to consider the grip on your wrist as the first warning, the sharpening of her eyes would definitely follow closely as the second one.

“One of the ‘pretend important’ ones or is this one of the ‘pointless distraction’ ones?” you ask cheerfully because warning or not, you’re pretty sure you could easily pull free if you wanted to – not that you do, not when this is way more interesting, and you might be about to win…whatever argument it is that this will make you victor of!

There’s a flash of teeth in the Researcher’s smile that (for now) do still look like human ones. Her other hand moves to work apart the fingers you’d clasped into anticipatory fist, squeezing her own fingers through the newly made gaps, like meat through a sausage grinder , and sure, okay, YEAH – ?! You’ve become a little more able to deal with the Researcher touching you, enough to now not go deaf and stupid from the fireworks it sets off in your head, but this is a bit more force than you’re used to?!?

What is she doing – !?

“ – idea of trying something that I believe will fit that idea into your strange little head,” the Researcher finishes, even if it’s only towards the end you got your brain enough back on board to realise she was speaking.

“Ahuh?” you manage to squeak, something that thankfully out sheer embarrassment clicks enough of your brain into gear so you can manage coherent words, “Hey?! Excuse me – I am a thousand times better then – you are the one that cannot communicate to save your blinding life?!”

Eyes narrow now in a motion not quite a glare, even if it’s a second cousin of one, the Researcher replies, “Then let me be direct – and also make clear, because gems alive, if anyone would misinterpret something like this, it would be you, that this is NOT in any way a romantic gesture.”

…

Wait, WHAT?!?

Ahah – ?!?

You DESPERATELY want to ask the Researcher to repeat herself, so you have ANY idea what she’s about to do, but unfortunately all of THAT manages to short circuit your brain so effectively that you come about to be nearly coherent again…just from the wrong direction, leaving you focused on entirely the wrong thing.

“Have you FINALLY gone insane?!?!” you begin, the panic nearly as strong as your bewilderment. “WHY would I EVER think you had the SLIGHTEST – ?!”

Her flicker of disgruntled irritation does thankfully interrupt your (no doubt about to be REAL disgustingly weird) rambling, but it does as little to prepare you for what’s coming as the Researcher’s verbal ‘warning’ did.

A slight smooth motion, eyes fixing onto your hand, and a flash of the Researcher’s teeth, all leading to teeth sinking into the flesh of your hand and

everything

stops .

Her teeth cut through whatever it is you have instead of skin with forceful intent and there’s likely some pain, but not so much that you notice with your tolerance for such things. But without pain to occupy your mind, that leaves nothing to stop your every fragment of awareness swirls inward; processing and observing.

The teeth…are warm – or you think they are?

No, of course teeth are warm – teeth are in people mouths, something that tends to be body temperature. There’s no logical reason for teeth to be cold and even if you’d not thought about it like that before, this shouldn’t shock you either, even if it kinda does!? Maybe that shock is why there’s such tightness in your chest, but you’ve not space for such petty things as that – not when all your focus in slowly being diverted into trying not to cry?

Which…yeah?! That’s a super weird response to someone biting your hand, right?! Just like the weirdest and most disgusting way ever – hang on, isn’t it ALSO blinding weird and a little gross to BE the person doing the biting?!?

WHY IS THE RESERACHER DOING THIS?!?

But…do you WANT to question it when you REALLY don’t want her to stop?! WHY ARE YOU DEALING WITH SO MANY CONFLICTING FEELINGS ABOUT THIS – !?!?

AhahahAHAHhhhHH –

“…You…are so lucky we’re friends, Researcher?! Can’t think of any other reason to tolerate the REAL weird things you keep doing!?!” you squeak, despite all your efforts to not sound like a panicked chipmunk.

This finally (and far too soon, stars why couldn’t you have just shut up and enjoyed the moment) makes the Researcher let go…making an absolutely disgusted face as she does…? Oh no, you did you ruin whatever weird moment was just happening, and now she hates –

“ – that is disgusting – ?! I knew it didn’t look like normal blood, but I didn’t expect that it would taste so – why is it sweet?! It’s like cursed liquorish or – ” the Researcher cuts off as she gags slightly, fumbling for her pockets to get a handkerchief to…clean your blood out of her mouth.

That was sure a sentence to think, huh?!?

WOW this is giving you such an array of ‘mystery’ emotions, but for a change they’re ones you want desperately to hoard up, to preserve and keep forever even if you’ve no blinding CLUE what just happened.

Glancing down, you turn your hand over, inspecting the tooth marks cut into the meat of your palm, or at least that part connecting your thumb to the rest. Digging a nail into one of the long narrow punctures left by her front teeth, you watch another dribble of lightless blood run down the curve of your wrist. Only the moment before enough of it gathers to drip onto the ground to your curl about your hand the other way to stop it landing onto and the edge of the Researcher’s coat.

…It is a very tidy bite. A bite that…clearly from human teeth too.

Huh.

  – wait, what did she just say?!?

“ – Researcher?! How do you know what human blood tastes like!?”

The Researcher pauses in wiping your blood out of her mouth to glare at you. “Don’t be ridiculous – everyone knows what blood tastes like.”

“Uh, I’m not sure they don’t?! Pretty sure that’s a super weird thing to have such a good memory for?!”

“It is not. Every child at SOME point has ended up tasting a bit of their own blood, even if only by accident from biting something inside their mouth.”

“Yeah, but is that what you did? Or are you also going to claim now that it’s ‘totally normal’ for some other children to deliberately taste their bloody out of perfectly innocent curiosity?”

“Why are you – there ISN’T anything weird about it?! Children are stupid and curious creatures?!”

“AHhah?! Sure?! Yeah, yeah – alright, you ARE that weird to think – sure! Whatever you say, Researcher!!” you reply still feeling a hundred miles away from this conversation, “Just like you’re going to say that was a totally normal, not at all ‘romantic’…what?! Friendship bite?”

“If you must put it like that? Then yes. It was…that,” the Researcher hisses, “I’m aware that it’s not the usual way to make such points, but you are an incredibly dense idiot, so I had to make do with what I knew would get your attention.”

“I DID in fact know we’re friends before this – does that factor into this?” you manage.

“It does as a matter of fact! People make dramatic gestures about known quantities all the damned time – and you clearly still felt…insecure or something, which is why I thought it an appropriate gesture,” the Researcher snaps back.

You…giggle!

The manic energy burning through you feels like a blanket of lightning trying to reanimate you from the dead. The effect is doomed to fail (corpses don’t tend to just get better) but…stars, the Researcher really makes you want to live to see the real ‘tomorrow’ after these loops, if only for the chance to see what stupid shit she’ll do next.

If you don’t…ah, you really hope that Stardust keeps their promise well enough to make sure someone is there is temper her dumb ideas, or else she’s going to end up with someone thinking she’s a vampire at some point –

A hand closes again about your wrist.

This…is a starkly different hold then the one she used moments before.

The Researcher’s fingertips are barely touching you, something that’s not nearly as strange as the odd…concern she’s fixed on the slight bite mark on your hand.

“Loop, I need to know what you – ”

She cuts off, expression tangling up and tripping over something that looks like maybe fear – ? Holding your breath, you wait…and a long moment after, the Researcher’s shoulders slump, as her eyes drop to fix on the blood still dripping down your wrist.

“Never mind. That’s…I don’t think I want to know the answer.”

“…Stars above you are giving me such whiplash – will you make up your blinding mind if you’re going to ask this thing or not?! You’re killing me with the suspense here, Researcher!?”

There’s a flash of painfully tight tension in her jaw, before she forces it to relax so she gave smile so very unconvincingly. “Why is that my problem. We’re in a time loop. Death isn’t permanent here.”

“Oh, sure I’ll not die-die, but I’m not going to be any happier even if I’m stuck being alive while you torment me hinting at things you refuse to just spit out already,” you reply, sensing you might be having two separate conversations here, but not sure what they are.

The fingers about your wrist tighten a little, but only a little as she…

…is she…holding your hand?

The Researcher’s intake of breath seems to suggest she’s about to speak, and you stall making a choice a little longer, and hopefully explain any of this – but she doesn’t. Blinking you wonder if you ask to have your hand back or if that would make whatever this weird thing that’s going on worse.

If you had to guess…you think it would only make this worse.

But…this…is a totally normal thing for people to do…or do you just think this is totally normal? No, you’re sure you’ve seen people hold hands and they all clearly thought it was normal! This is sure WAY more normal then like sinking your teeth into someone’s hand, right? But, if so…then maybe there’s something wrong with you. There must be something wrong – you’re standing in the sunshine, with someone who acknowledges you as a friend despite you being a thousand flaws gathered within a cloak…

…and yet none of that eases the dull ache in your chest.

They might in fact be the cause of –

Fingers tangle tighter with yours and okay now her grip hurts a little, not that you mind! Honestly, you’re internally giving thanks to the Universe for something solid to focus on beyond the warmth of her hand wrapped about yours!

“ – I rather want to apologise…but I have the feeling that you’d only be more confused if I did,” the Researcher says, words tumbling out in a sudden rasped breath.

Snapping back to the moment you try and fail to figure THAT one out and only decide that you’re growingly uncomfortable with this weird not-conversation you’re having with her.

“Of course, I’d be bloody confused!?” you reply in a strangled tone. “You’ve given me absolutely ZERO context for any of this!?! I REALLY hope you’re about to tell me about how this is all just your hangups about Familytales and the empty one in your bag because if it’s NOT about that I’m sorry, but the time loops have somehow driven you even more insane!!!”

Slowly the Researcher’s hold on your hand loosens, head rising so that her brightly coloured eyes can cut through you like a blade into your chest.

“…How do you know about that book.”

Oh

shit.

You desperately search about for an innocent excuse, slowly realising that you don’t have one. Closing your eyes you brace for the worse as you throw everything you remember out into the open, hoping like hell honesty is enough.

“You were unconscious – dying! You were ACTIVELY dying at the time! But not dead yet – it was taking while, okay?! I was trying to look for a distraction and also maybe angry because you’d just proven I was such a joke you could figure out my identity and STILL think it was selfish of YOU to want me to again get to eat a meal with you all again and REALLY didn’t expect to find a blinding Familytale just sitting in your bag to be found!?!?!”

Each breath in and out echoed like a gun shot in your head, as you tense more the longer the silence lasts, sure that she’s definitely going to kill you for this and it’s likely going to really hurt. But rather then killing you, the Researcher only hisses and lets go of your hand before burying her face into her hands with a frustrated groan.

“I…gems, of course that was why you – there is never a more certain answer to anything then finding out once again that you were acting like an impulsive idiot.”

Hm. That…is a weird reaction. Should you take the reprieve of death with gratitude or be insulted instead? Considering that even if she had killed you, it wouldn’t have stuck, and she does have the right to do a thing like that – that means it’s totally fine for you to ignore that and skip straight to insulted.

“Excuse me, but the human face of the Expression of Impulsive Decisions Not Thought Out Enough does NOT get to say that about me!” you announce, folding your arms to hide the shaking of your hands.

Dragging her hands down her face, the Researcher glares flatly at you just long enough for you to feel a little unnerved before she pushes herself to her feet. You shuffle away slightly, in case you did in fact push your luck a little too far and it fell off the metaphorical cliff face, but the Researcher ignores you, instead walking off were the Familytale still lay on the ground.

Stooping, she picks it up, taking moment to dust off the pages, and only then snaps it closed.

“I would respectfully disagree,” she announces, turning back to face you, raising an eyebrow as she does. “You have just as much claim to that title and can begin listing examples to prove my point if required.”

“Good luck finding anything that beats throwing a live squirrel into a room of people!”

“You grabbed a squirrel with your bare hands and yelled at it all the detail how you’d turn it into a soup,” the Researcher retorts without hesitation.

You…pause.

Stars, you knew that was going to come back to bite you one day – BUT if she thinks that’s enough to make you back down then she’s got another thing coming!

“You swore to ‘never let another pineapple go near Siffrin’ and then came to throw it at my head,” you counter, posing cutely for maximum projected smugness.

There’s a slight twitch from the Researcher, but only a slight one. “That was more…ironic in hindsight – and not an impulsive one in the slightest. Something very different to how you nearly attacked me during our first meeting, just for calling you friend.”

You…had nearly done that, hadn’t you? Stars, you’d managed to bury that memory and had NOT needed her digging it back up?! But you will be STRONG and pretend that was only a minor mistake and not one of the most painful things you still remember.

“You tried to get more sleep by forcibly confessing to Stardust for the Fighter and then ran away when it, SHOCKINGLY enough, didn’t work!” you yell back, trying to drown out the parts of you that are beginning to prompt you to stop talking.

That one gets a proper wince from the Researcher and some visible regret! But unfortunately (and just as you’d expect from this idiot) it doesn’t make her back off in the slightest.

“You dug a GRAVE for yourself because you thought you slightly irritated me.”

“You joined a secret rebellion because you were distracted arguing with your hate crush!”

“You wouldn’t tell me what a star is!”

“You refused to just ASK ME what a star is!!”

“You bit my finger off!”

“You made me look at the stump afterwards!?!”

“You pretended to be Siffrin’s divorced partner!!”

“THAT was Stardust’s idea – whereas it was YOU ALONE who thought CUTTING YOUR OWN THROAT was REASONABLE in the THIRD LOOP!!!”

“YOU SOMEHOW STILL THINK KILLING MYSELF IS WORSE THAN YOU MAKING ME WATCH THEM – ” the Researcher cuts off as she jerks a half step back, mouth snapping shut.

You take a breath in, ready to shove the next example from the tip of your tongue into the gap of silence…but thankfully you notice the strangeness of her hesitate in time to realise what she stopped herself saying.

Rocking back on the balls of your feet, you find your hands at your sides, both clenched into fists, and force them back open. If she didn’t think apologies alone worthless you might try to give her one for that day…but she does think that, so there’s no point saying anything.

Steadying your breathing is a slow process to reach anything like a slow pull in and out of air over the near hyperventilating of before. Lucky that it takes the Researcher nearly as long to regain her poise too really. Lucky too that you hesitated just long enough to realise that saying anything was a bad idea. Partly luck, partly effort and awareness of how dreadfully wrong it goes to KEEP yelling at times like that –

Wait, you DID both put in effort, didn’t you? …Huh. Are you two maybe getting…better at this talking thing?

Sure, that sounds like crazy talk, but –

“You…have made your point, I think,” the Researcher says, voice a little raspy but otherwise calm again. “I’ll take title you so…kindly offer me.”

“Eh, in hindsight I think you might have like half a case for me getting that title. If I was being compared to anyone but you? Yeah, then I’d totally be winner of the year’s ‘most impulsive idiot’ contest!” you reply.

“If I wasn’t present, you would win such a contest even if competing against a hyperactive squirrel.”

You glare just a little as a treat, and she smiles back in a way that’s somehow exactly the same, but with more teeth involved. The colour has mostly faded from her eyes again. Not completely gone, but almost. Certainly, it’s dulled enough to be back in the ‘safe zone’, which means that it’s safe to poke her again as much as you like – lucky because you do have one little question left to ask, one being actively prompted by the stinging bite marks left cut into your hand.

“Okay so seriously, Researcher – why did you bite me?” you ask, flopping out your still bleeding hand for visual aid in case she’d forgotten it in all the excitement.

By the rapid focus, and flash of embarrassment, she HAD forgotten. “Ah. Sorry, I meant to – one moment, please – ” she mutters, quickly stepping forward and…

…yup, she is AGAIN holding your hand! You pause just long enough to, figuring out what her plan a moment too late to stop her hand flattens out as she summoned a flash of slow working Healing Craft.

“Ow, OW, ow, ow – ” you hiss. “Please don’t – I didn’t need a repeat of this stupid – how the blinding hell do you make being healed more painful than being injured?”

“That’s how the process of healing works.”

“The Housemaiden’s healing skill doesn’t hurt people when she uses it!?”

“Well it should!” she snaps back, taking a firmer grasp on your arm to stop you wiggling away to avoid the sensation ants nibbling your hand.

“You really don’t have to worry about this – I’m not mad about the biting thing! Honestly it was kinda fun! Good bonding experience and all that!” you get out sounding thankfully mostly normal about this still!

The Researcher slightly rolls her eyes. “You are a mystery, but in very certain ways you are a predicable one – I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why you thought this was fun?”

“Are YOU going to explain why you BIT ME?”

“I’ve already explained everything relevant, I really don’t know what else you could possibly want me to say about this,” the Researcher mutters back clearly only half listening now, attention far more on the healing process then anything you’re saying now.

To be fair, you’re also pretty distracted from this argument, eyes fixed on where her long fingers wrap tightly about your flesh and bones, and musing at how you’re getting so much skin contact today and if this is maybe a reward or punishment for something you don’t remember doing.

Unfortunately, when almost all your attention now focused on the sense of warm skin against yours that meant nothing was leftover to keep your verbal filter intact.

“All I currently know is that you think my blood tastes weird and you need me to know that biting isn’t romantic. At this point I’ve got no choice but to start guessing – and since you seemed to think it COULD be somehow romantic, I will now guess that biting is one of your basic biological urges. Like, no judgement if it is, I’m totally down for whatever equivalent of one-night stand with no expectations or strings attached this ends up being, if I get physical contact out of it!”

Only when the glow of Healing Craft cuts off, is there a long moment of ringing silence for your brain to really consider that thing it just said aloud where the Researcher could hear you.

That…wasn’t the way to be ‘normal’ about this, huh?

…STARS.

That’s it – you’ve made up your mind! Considering the damage skin contact does to your brain, this is DEFINITELY a punishment of some sort!

“…What?!” the Researcher manages only after WAY TOO LONG being quiet. “I don’t even know where to begin with…literally ANY of that?!”

“Would it help if I said that I’m thoroughly disgusted by sex? Meaning this is not a kink and I am I fact being weird about this in an entirely platonic way?” you try.

“I think that might make it worse? Gems alive you are SUCH a deranged little weirdo,” the Researcher replies, even as she apparently has the calm to resummons the Healing Craft and the irritating pain that her stupid healing comes with it.

“EXCUSE ME?! I was not the idiot that BIT SOMEONE! The rituals of friendship might be intricate and mysterious, but not THAT MUCH?! ALSO STOP HEALING ME?! I like the bite marks and also your stupid stinging Healing Craft is blinding annoying!!!”

Getting a better grip on your arm with an irritable hiss, the Researcher completely ignores your complaints. “I am not going to walk away leaving you bleeding all over the place.”

“It’s only a flesh wound! It’s not like you bit my arm off!”

“I am going to heal you – now shut up and let me do that.”

Making a disgruntled noise you give up, settling for instead glaring at the Researcher, waiting (impatiently) until she’s done, so you can pull your arm free.

“You still didn’t answer my question,” you complain, shaking out all those little stinging echoes of pain from your hand.

The Researcher aggressively rolls her eyes as she replies, “I – fine! Look, I chose teeth because I decided that there was no chance you’d be normal about me kissing you. Honestly, everything about this reaction of yours has only gone further to prove me absolutely right.”

“…That…your first thought was ‘wow! A friendship kiss is a normal thing to do – shame Loop might take a bit to process that, how about I BITE them instead’?!?”

Folding her arms, the Researcher looks annoyingly smug for someone who’s face is a little darker then normal at this line of questioning! “You know? That’s close enough to my train of thought that I’ll accept it – there was also the factor that with your face so…bright…I decided that it was impossible on a logical basis too,” she replies imperiously.

“I’d say the entire PREMISE was flawed?! Who could EVER just go ‘yeah sure, whatever you say’ after getting kissed!?” you reply incredulously.

The Researcher…is now avoiding your eyes.

Why would she…?

…No, she couldn’t have – but no matter how stupid it sounds, a little suspicion is beginning to settle into your awareness, and you cannot quite pretend that the Researcher wouldn’t be able to somehow logic herself into that action.

“…Are you serious?” you say, still vaguely hoping she’s not that insane.

“Serious about what?” the Researcher replies folding her arms and…yup, she’s still avoiding your eyes too, isn’t she.

….

Stars, did she really –

“ – YOU KISSED STARDUST?!?!”

“HOW IS THAT YOUR FIRST GUESS!?!”

“BECAUSE YOU CLEARLY DID THIS AND NO ONE ELSE IN EXSISTANCE IS DUMB ENOUGH TO GO ALONG WITH YOUR STUPID LOGIC!?!”

The Researcher makes an incredulous and frustratedly embarrassed noise and gestures violently towards you instead of responding, and you frown, not sure what that is supposed to imply.

“LOOP, YOU ARE LITERALLY – ?!?!” the Researcher cuts off, but you do at least get what her point was now – but that is not to say you agree with her at all.

Throwing out your own arm to jab a finger at her, you retort with all the energy of a two-bit villain projecting their speech to the cheap seats. “AHAH – no, you’re not going to win that way! Not in a THOUNSAND YEARS – Stardust isn’t me and we do NOT have remotely enough in common for you to compare us like this!!!  I don’t care WHAT similarities we’ve still got, I would NEVER EVER EVER buy that from YOU, and ESPECIALLY not before the time loops – ”

You

stop.

Shitshitshitshit –

ThatwastoomuchyousaidWAYtoomuch –

“How different could you possibly be – and what do you mean, especially before the time loops?” the Researcher asks.

“I…nothing! Nothing at all! We – I – we are the same person, it would be like SO weird otherwise, but I have got like years of life experience on him at this point, it would be weirder if I did react the same as them, right?!”

The Researcher is giving you a strangely focused look, and even as she says nothing…stars, it’s too late, isn’t it? Even if the Researcher hasn’t yet realised the implications of this yet –

“I can tell from your reaction alone that…I do in fact agree with you that it would be strange if you and Siffrin acted alike, but you seem to believe that there’s more differences than just the time loops in effect here. Why?” the Researcher asks, sounding mildly bemused.

Staring at her, hand still stinging from the healing it just underwent, you force yourself to breath in slowly, and then out again.

Too late to run.

She’ll figure it out in a minute or two regardless.

“Didn’t so much hide this as…I wasn’t even sure how to bring it up?” you say, taking a turn to stare at the ground. “Like…I barely remember anything before the time loops! You know this! Me going, ‘hey, Researcher? Turns out that me and Siffrin have REAL blinding different ideas of how certain things are meant to have happened over our life!’ when I have no idea if I’m remembering things right or not would really just be MORE annoying…right?”

“Siffrin remembers things different from you. How different?”

“…Very. They…are also…a lot dumber? Look, there is just…so much different?! I don’t even know where to begin – they asked you to travel with them. I would have rather died then asked that. I…did die without asking that.”

Silence reigns –

– then a sigh.

“You…your original wish was the same as Siffrin’s.”

“…Not exactly, but…it was not completely unlike it either,” you reply, helplessly. “Stardust…I don’t know what’s blinding wrong with them, but even when shaking in their boots, they aren’t paralysed by it, don’t drown in it, there isn’t suffocating uncertainty making them INSANE – ”

You are shaking now too, but unlike Stardust, you cannot make yourself keep speaking. Digging your fingers into the insides of your elbows you hold your breath, waiting.

“And…I…am also…different in your memory, I take it. That this is why you seemed so startled at seemingly benign actions of mine,” the Researcher asks quietly.

You make an unhappy noise of agreement, still keeping eyes fixed on the ground. “Sorry. I think I might have ruined your life…?”

There’s a snort of laughter from the Researcher.

“Ha – so that’s how you decided to ‘creatively reinterpret’ this,” she says. “Very bold of you to assume all the issues in my life are your fault.”

“But?! They probably are?!?” you shoot back, head snapping up.

“Do you think I grew up living part of the time in Vaugarde?” The Researcher askes and…smiles? Sure it’s a half smile, but not one with teeth in it at all – it’s nearly even amused?!

“Huh…?!? Why would you have ever grown up in VAUGARDE?!”

There’s a slight pause, the Researcher’s fingers biting into the edge of her bag where the Familytale is now hidden away. “I…no reason. I was only curious if the world really could be that different – how about this, was I skilled at kindness and comforting people?”

“You were not the worst? But like…uh…you were still you, so honestly you were kinda bad at it, even when you were trying real hard not to be bad at it,” you admit unwillingly, no idea where this is now going.

“Did I ever tell you what I was researching?”

“Uh…no. No…I…don’t think I did,” you reply slowly, the realisation that you never figured that out in your own loops or these ones a strange one.

“Then…I think I can say that I was not completely different. Likely just a few…details. Moved a foot from where they’d been before,” the Researcher says and shrugs.

“But – you are in the time loop and Stardust is not?! All as the result of my wish?!?”

“Certainly there is that, but different as you and Siffrin are I do still recognise the same Living Gem in both of you. Most likely there were a few little events for you and me that were…shifted. Outcomes adjusted. Things happened in one life…while in another we didn’t linger in the right place long enough to receive something which might have changed a great deal of our perceptions of the past and future.”

Blinking rapidly, you half open your mouth to demand to know how the Researcher knows about your coin, only to hesitate as you realise she’s focused entirely inward right now, hand still gripping tight the strap of her bag.

“Your wish…might have appeared to change me, but more likely the pieces remained the same, only changing the details to see different parts of my Living Gem are revealed in my character,” she finishes quietly.

In some ways you can see that she’s not wrong. Inside your head is an impassible barrier made a thousand miles tall between the one you call the Researcher and the person you called Odile, but there are bits of each in them. The links reminding you that yes, they are on some level the same person…

…but that's not enough to make this right. Due to your pain and selfishness, you begged for another to take your place and fundamentally changed the world in the wake of it…even if you are suspect that the Researcher will never see it that way.

Stars, the one thing you’re growingly sure of is that there is nothing you could do to make the Researcher so furiously angry at you that she really would hate you – even if it would be so much easier if she could just hate you, like the Universe clearly intended her to.

But unfortunately, she’s an idiot…

…exactly the same as you –

“So Loop, do you think people can Change their Living Gem?” she asks interrupting your train of thought.

“How would I know,” you reply mulishly. “Introspection makes my head hurt, and Stardust is so insane that I don’t feel like trying to remember if I was that bad before the Universe made me the star of my own personal hell.”

“Ha. I also feel a dull ache beginning whenever I try and consider such matters. Even if there is…some details of our lives that have shifted, really how fundamentally different could we be? These time loops are the result of cursed luck, and a few trifling changes that meant that the damned intent had just enough to bite into. Getting back out of them would likely be just as painful for Siffrin as you, and that…other one, that you likely still think of as ‘Odile’ and not ‘the Researcher’.”

“Maybe. Or maybe they’d have just not wanted anything badly enough to get stuck in these loops in the first place,” you mutter.

“…Maybe,” the Researcher echoes, eyes lingering on you. “Still, I think people aren’t able to be anything but themselves, and this becomes all the more obvious when their put under pressure…just as it’s far easier to pretend to be something you’re not when you’re in control. Wouldn’t you agree...Loop?”