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Mirabelle didn’t hold her alcohol well.
She was a small girl, and she had a proclivity towards sugary, incredibly alcoholic drinks that she couldn’t taste the booze in.
All this to say: she was pretty sloshed.
She had gone with Isabeau and Odile to the bar while Siffrin and Nille got Bonnie to go to sleep (a truly Herculean task). Two drinks in— and it was impressive she was able to down that much— and she was barely coherent.
She spent most of the night drifting between Isa and Odile, clinging to them for support and babbling about how happy she was that they’d beaten the king and that they could just travel and relax a little. She was too dizzy to walk properly on her own, and even still, she kept trying to run off into the night, chasing after anything that even vaguely interested her.
Thankfully, the sound of her cape pins always gave away her escape attempts. Odile feared the day she realized this and assured their silence, but for now it was more like trying to shepherd an unruly puppy than anything else.
Isabeau eventually sighed and wrapped his arms around Mirabelle, picking her up over his shoulder and carrying her back to the off-season farmhouse they’d been staying in. She giggled lazily, hugging him tight around the shoulders as best she could.
“I love you guys,” she hiccuped, kicking her legs happily. “Y’believed in me when I didn’t, and— and you’re both so nice…!”
Isabeau hugged her close, and Odile patted her on the head. She closed her eyes and eagerly leaned into the touch— physical affection from Madame Odile was rare and magical. That, and Odile was also a bit tipsy.
“Let’s get you home,” Isabeau replied, voice aching with fondness. It was impossible not to feel fond of Mirabelle. She’s a delight.
Isabeau set Mirabelle down as he fumbled for the key. Inside was quiet— it was likely that everyone had gone to sleep.
There was a sound from next to him, though. Mirabelle was crying again! No!
“Hey, shshhshhshhhhh,” Isabeau put a hand on her shoulder, shushing her like one might shush a spooked horse. “It’s okay, Mira, it’s—“
Oh that’s why she was sniffling. Siffrin was sitting half-curled up on the couch, reading the book she had loaned them. They looked up and put a scrap of fabric between the pages, gazing at Mirabelle with concern. “Are you o—“
She barreled towards them before anyone could even think to stop her, bowling them back into the couch cushions and—
Mmmmwah!
Planting a kiss on their forehead.
They blinked sleepily. Then, as they processed what was happening, their face flushed dark and their eyes went wide. “Ah??? Mira??????”
She huffed, grabbing them by the collar of their pajama shirt and leaning back in for another, and another, and another. On his cheeks, his nose, his chin. Everywhere but his lips, thankfully, though the corners of their mouths did touch once by accident.
That startled a sound out of Siffrin as they squirmed beneath her touch, gentle but unrelenting, like being swarmed by butterflies. Her lips were so soft and warm and she smelled like mint leaves and alcohol.
“Mira—!” Siffrin giggled, trying to hide their face in defense of the sudden flurry of blows against them. Mira pawed their hands down to their lap, finally leaning back and catching her breath.
“You! You’re actually reading the book I gave you! And you’re one of my best friends, and you saved my life, and you—!!!”
“Ah?!” Siffrin flinched, looking around the room. Anywhere but at her. Sure, maybe that was true, but—?!
“Siffrin!” She said, voice wobbly with emotion. “I love you, okay? Do you know that??? Do you know that I love you???”
Siffrin’s face was flushed like a fruit gone overripe. His smile was tight and nervous, and most noticeably there were lightless lipstick marks peppered all across every inch of them.
“Y—yes???”
Mirabelle let out a satisfied hmph ! and hugged Siffrin tight around the shoulders, burying her face in the crook of their neck while they stared up at Isabeau and Odile.
Mirabelle wasn’t moving. Any time Siffrin tried to talk, she would whine and hug them tighter and they’d fizzle out, going silent.
Siffrin tried to give the others a pointed look, but they each had one of their own already. Odile was smiling like she had just seen the funniest thing in the world, and Isabeau looked like he was about to explode with barely contained jealousy.
And Mirabelle began letting out soft little snores, too.
Great. It would be an actual crime to wake her up, so Siffrin would remain imprisoned there forever by Mirabelle’s embrace. Alas.
“We shall remember you well, Siffrin,” Odile nodded, giving a mock salute.
Siffrin made a strange little sound, confused and flustered.
“I’ll— I’ll take her to bed soon…?”
Isabeau took a deep breath… and sighed, too happy to really be anything else.