Chapter Text
ACT 1: SCENE 0
Through meticulous motions, a hand can be seen sewing through darkless fabric. The thread carefully weaved through the material, glowing slightly with craft magic. The crafter seemed to whisper under his breath small affirmations, “please work. please work. please bind. ooh...”
He seemed to be focused on the task. A young child over his shoulder cocked their head, taking in the process. The tailor’s murmurs seemed to be working; the glow and scent of his craft seemed to grow in quantity as he chanted. The child made a mental note of the notion, pursing their lips and fiddling with their thin, gloved, hands.
The man creating the product finished his task. He carefully tied the final knot of his thread and snipped what was left of the string, causing it to drop onto the desk he was working on. The child's eyes seemed to light up slightly, perhaps from the bright shade on the cloak that was now being presented to their eyes. They grabbed the fresh cloak with clumsy pre-teen hands, pulling it over their head. It was like an instant hug.
On that topic, the tailor by their side took the opportunity to tug them into an actual hug. His arms encircled their diminutive torso, squeezing them ever so slightly. Normally, they'd be avoidant towards such a tight hold, but the cloak around them served as a protective barrier from the world. For a paranoid little kid, it was quite the gift. The kid found themselves letting out a snort and returning the embrace for a mere second.
As they pulled away, the adult in front of them reached out to his side without looking. In his hand, he brought ‘round a rather large hat, embroidered with star patterns you wouldn't notice if you weren't looking for them. The stitching in the embroidery was the same shade as the hat, which went along with the newly crafted cloak. They all shared in common a darkless shade variation, coming together to create a completed outfit. The hat was placed on their head.
The child adjusted their hat with a grin. It fell lopsided on their head due to its size.
“A bright outfit for a bright one like you.” The tailor kneeled down to their height, ruffling the bangs to their light hair—not yet tainted with dye from their teenage years to come. The hat slowly tightened on their head, vowing to grow in perfectly in size with the child as they grew up. Crafted to follow them through all journeys.
——
ACT 1: SCENE 1
Siffrin suddenly awoke, their senses immediately overwhelmed by the world around them again. The uncomfortable bark on their back, serving as a reminder of Siffrin's lack of home—as he'd slept perched above the ground in a tree again. The added height made the tree feel less like a slum.
He couldn't seem to recall whatever dream he'd had, so it must not have been important, if it existed at all. Siffrin reached out for the hat laying on his chest, now sitting up in the tree and placing it back on his head. The hat no longer matched their hair shade; it hadn't matched for years now. Contrary to their long, darkless, style as a child, Siffrin now wore their hair short above their shoulders, and dyed lightless. A stark contrast—not that Siffrin remembered that childhood stage.
Siffrin looked up towards the sun, instead having their gaze obscured by an envelope that had methodically flown straight into their face with a ‘SMACK!’. Siffrin sputtered momentarily, before peeling the letter from his face. He turned it right-side up and read the name written in old cursive. Siffrin, no middle names, no last name.
How ominous! Siffrin excitedly ripped away at the paper, digging into the note sealed inside. It began with a formal address, followed by an assassination request. Ah. That's what this was! It made sense now.
Siffrin was a natural born fighter. They had no idea where it came from, but for as long as he could remember, Siffrin had this insatiable thirst for the thrill of a kill. And, not to brag, but they were pretty good at their executions too. So, naturally, Siffrin harnessed that talent into a job, usually taking up requests on the weekend every month or so. And this job, well, this was perfect timing. All Siffrin had to their name at the moment were two silver coins that jingled in their pocket as they moved. He'd spent the rest of his last paycheck on a new dagger: sharper, thinner, and light.
The body paragraph went into detail on the victim that was requested to be executed. Some housemaiden under the name of Mirabelle serving the House of Change. If you looked to the bottom left side of the page, you could see a printed photo of what Siffrin assumed to be the target, as it was circled in tomato-shade ink. The writer of the letter claimed to have ‘frozen the house in time’, leaving only Mirabelle to have gotten away safely. She was a threat to be exterminated, it seemed. Sounded like a powerful young lady.
A check for unimaginable amounts of currency lay in the envelope as well, said to only be the deposit and not the promised amount once the task was carried out. Therefore Siffrin would have to be a fool not to take on the job.
The letter was signed off with The King, which they found rather odd. Unless they'd missed out on a big deal of news, they were certain there weren't any monarchies in the area for weeks of travel. In fact, most monarchies had been abandoned entirely for years now. It was quite a concept lost in history.
Siffrin decided to ignore the title for now, stuffing everything back in the envelope and then folding that item into his back pocket.
Now, while the photo of the Mirabelle was useful and all for identifying the target, Siffrin still had no idea where to actually find the housemaiden. Perhaps, if she escaped the House of Change, she was still near that area? Dormont? He supposed it depended on when that letter had been written. Had it been weeks since ‘The King’ sent it, Mirabelle could be absolutely anywhere. Dormont was a good start, though. Siffrin could at least find a lead there.
They launched themselves out of the tree, jumping down and bracing their own fall like a totally cool superhero. Siffrin began at a gentle pace. Like he was taking a stroll and not on his way to kill a, probably, innocent girl. How unfortunate, too! She looked rather sweet.
Siffrin chose to believe it was supposed to end like this—that it was what the universe wanted. No wrongdoing if it's destiny. Just giving fate a little assistance. A push. As long as she didn't scream and cry or anything, Siffrin could move on with little to no remorse!
The trip to Dormont was tedious and a little boring, but easy. They came from a far way away, south of Vaugarde where Dormont could be found. Siffrin had no complications of running into people or animals. That is, besides the occasional bird, but those just chirped a ‘piou!’ their way before flocking off.
Just past about a week of travel on foot, Siffrin was merely two cities away from their destination. However, before he could even approach the nearby city of Jouvente, let alone Dormont, a sudden commotion could be heard in an otherwise quiet and empty field.
While traveling so far, the whole journey had been relatively calm. Not to mention, they were in a completely deserted area of land. It was marveling that there seemed to be a collection of people this far away from civilization. So who were these travelers? Siffrin didn't pick up their pace, but now his curiosity was caught. He watched his surroundings more carefully, especially as the noise got louder and closer. Screams! And footsteps. Very swift footsteps, like a herd of running dummies.
Over another hill, still distanced from Siffrin, a sudden group of three people came running through without a visible cause for their distress. Siffrin jumped slightly as they came into view, freezing as he took in the sight.
Three adults: two of them younger and definitely more similar in age than the third. The young woman in the front, seemingly leading the group, held up her long skirt with two hands as she ran, looking over her shoulder occasionally. As she moved, a very quiet ‘ding ding!’ emitted from the accessories she adorned. Siffrin immediately recognized the girl as his target, Mirabelle: ‘Blessed by the Change God’, as they'd heard while on the road.
To her right was a man seemingly in his twenties with a fade, and to Mirabelle's left, an older lady with glasses and short black hair in a bun. They were a funny looking group and it seemed like they didn't yet know how to function together.
...Maybe more sad than funny.
Oh well! Siffrin reached for their dagger, ready to pounce on Mirabelle once she got close enou—huh?
About eight feet behind the group was a distorted looking human being. Maybe not human as much as just anthropomorphic. An eerie sight, nonetheless. The thing sounded like it was making an attempt at sobbing, but it came out… Wrong. With a groan, Siffrin momentarily changed their target to the creature, just so it wouldn't attack later when Siffrin took Mirabelle's life.
Mirabelle looked forward, spotting Siffrin and yelling in his nearby direction. They couldn't make out the exact words from afar, but assumed it was some sort of ‘HEEELP!!’.
Siffrin's posture stiffened as they put on something of a cool and mysterious front. The trio fumbled their way towards Siffrin, Mirabelle hiding behind Siffrin and leading her group to do the same. It was an odd gesture, considering Siffrin was a stranger and Mirabelle had no clue that he'd actually help their sorry selves.
Siffrin prepared their stance, and when the time came, they charged the creature and struck.
…
Six hits and the thing was gone. That was more than usual!
Its remaining soul blew away in the wind like ashes. Siffrin grimaced. What in Star’s name was wrong with that thing? That entity—a sadness—was common around Vaugarde. Siffrin had fought plenty in the past. They usually took just one hit, one slice.
Before they could even turn around and begin to ask the group for answers, Siffrin felt a pair of nostalgically cold hands wrap around their person in a hug. He flinched, turning his head to see Mirabelle gripping him tightly. She spewed out a string of ‘thank youu’s and grinned like a dog. Siffrin was severely uncomfortable. This wasn't exactly how they'd expected the situation to go.
“Mirabelle,” Siffrin heard the older woman call out from their side. Her voice carried a rasp and sounded rather monotone, “mind giving the guy some space?” She sneered. Mirabelle gasped and immediately retracted. “Yes, you're right!” She gave a meek nod, “So sorry!” and held up her hands in mock surrender. Siffrin offered a small nod as well.
Well, it'd be rather… Awkward to kill her now, wouldn't it? But, y'know, they kind of had to do it. At least eventually. Siffrin looked around at the cast of characters before them, subconsciously sizing each of them up for battle.
The oldest shot him a look. “And you are?” She prodded.
Oh! Right. They couldn't exactly just walk away either now. “Siffrin.” He spat out quickly. “I'm a traveler.” Siffrin lied. Well, half lied. Siffrin certainly did travel, only that wasn't the focus of their work. Not like he could exactly tell them that he was on the prowl to kill their leader. The same leader who was looking straight at him with sparkling, grateful, eyes.
And, hey, why was the guy beside her so silent? Siffrin gave him an odd, judging, visage. The man seemed not to notice.
The dark-haired woman opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by Mirabelle. “Siffrin...” She tasted the name on her tongue. “Yes, yes! That was amazing!” Mirabelle clapped her hands.
“Oh! Yeah. It was nothing. Really.” Stars, please let this conversation end. How hard was it to just shut up and let someone kill you?
“I, uh,” Mirabelle faltered slightly, but only for a second. Her smile returned as she gestured her hand to her chest. “I'm Mirabelle! I'm on a journey to find people to come with me to collect the orbs necessary to defeat The King. He's imprisoned the people of Dormont and—and I need help. These two are Odile and Isabeau,” She pointed to them respectively, “they're already tagging along with me.” Mirabelle explained very kindly.
So that's why he wants her dead, Siffrin thought. The feeling was mutual, it seemed. I mean, it's not like there was much more of an explanation for ‘defeating’ than killing. Unless she was the type to try and reform her enemies, which, to be honest, she totally gave off the vibe.
“So…” They had to ask. “That was a sadness, right?” Siffrin raised an eyebrow, peering over the brim of their large hat. “Yes!” She exclaimed. “Usually we can get them on our own, really, but ever since I left, after the King’s attack, they seem to be getting stronger.” Mirabelle looked visibly concerned, clasping her hands together.
The man with them, Isabeau, finally chimed in, “Yeah! They’ve been getting worse over time, but that one was bad.” He gave a firm nod. Siffrin’s attention was suddenly drawn to a bruise or two on his face. It left them wondering if the two ladies had also been injured at all.
Siffrin didn't exactly agree with the idea that the sadness had been too difficult, but they chose not to say that. Behind them, a hand suddenly gripped their shoulder, just sitting there. Siffrin jumped subconsciously. If only these people would just stop touching him.
The owner of the limb spoke up, “In non-simple terms, I'm under the impression that with the King's tyranny, people are more prone to becoming a sadness. Not only is there now a surplus of sadnesses, but emotions are especially on high. Their fear and despair is manifesting into severely dangerous levels.” Odile explained. “Unfortunately, there's nothing left for these victims other than to end their misery.” She let go of Siffrin and turned around to face him.
Morbid, but fair. “And it was chasing you because..?” They pried. Sadnesses didn't exactly just attack before. They had to be provoked, of a sort. “Gems alive, you are the curious type, huh?” Odile squinted her eyes, placing a hand on her hip judgingly. She already seemed to be scrutinizing them, like reading straight from their soul. Mirabelle nudged her kindly, a simple reminder to treat strangers nicely. Especially strangers who'd just saved your butt.
Isabeau's voice came in, responding to Siffrin's inquiry. “We don't actually know that yet. M’dame Odile says they're just blood hungry now.” He smiled. ‘M’dame’? Was that a title she went by? Siffrin's eyebrows furrowed. So-called m’dame Odile tried to intervene: “Yes, that was a joke—”
“But they've never been that bad!” Mirabelle insisted again, cutting the poor woman off again. “That one was way tougher than usual. We tried to flee, but, um… you can see what happened.” She piped out awkwardly, rubbing her neck.
“That thing? Tough?” Siffrin snorted. Sure, worse than usual, but tough was a strong word.
...Stars. That was rude. Be more mindful, Siffrin. Strangers, while they may be strange, have thoughts and feelings. Well, maybe except Isabeau—who was once again staring out in his direction with intent and a smile like a ventriloquist dummy. Creepy!
Odile looked put-off. Mirabelle seemed to take the brutish statement the other way entirely. “You mean you'd be able to help? That is, if you are interested. Of course, the journey is rather long, so I'd totally understand if you wanted to just run along and go back to your merry ways!” Mirabelle reassured, seemingly more for herself than Siffrin.
What a colorful group of individuals! Siffrin weighed his options. On one hand, getting closer to his target could make for an easier kill. She'd drop her guard soon enough, and Siffrin figured that step would be quick considering she was already inviting him to join along after barely sharing first names. But, on the other hand, getting attached was a huge no-no. Completely off limits. If they made a friend of Mirabelle, or so much as an ally, it'd be harder to part with her life. That wasn't something Siffrin wanted to live with.
They looked down at the dirt, picking their head up only for a moment and catching Isabeau's gaze. He smiled at them upon noticing the shared eye contact. It was a warm gesture—so much so that it seemed to melt Siffrin's cold demeanor for as much as a second.
Siffrin faltered. He fidgeted with his gloves, “I suppose I have the time. Not like I was going anywhere.” Mirabelle looked presently surprised. Her tiny smile returned, and her eyes seemed to shine a little brighter. “Really? I don't want to force your hand, but we could really use the help!” She bounced with energy that couldn't seem to be contained. Siffrin took a mental note of that.
‘I can tell’, is what Siffrin wanted to reply with. They held back, for reputation sake. Can't have the target hating them just yet! That emotion was reserved for her death in under two days time. Instead, Siffrin said, “Really.” In reply to her one-word question. Isabeau clapped along with Mirabelle's excitement, meanwhile Odile looked… unimpressed? Maybe a little peeved. Oh well. Siffrin had a goal to reach, a target to kill. If that meant they had to play the role of a savior, so be it.
Mirabelle took on the lead, walking backwards as she smiled and chatted with her little group. She was completely clueless about her inevitable demise, and the grand mistake she'd just made. Siffrin almost felt bad, but the feeling couldn't quite surface in their heart.
Instead, he just smiled and nodded, listening to the now more-in-depth background information that she was providing him.
Since they were traveling from the middle of nowhere, the group didn't reach a place to stay that night until what Siffrin assumed was one-AM, nearing two. All they had to do to make an estimate was to look up, and read the stars. Of course, it was never exact, but precision wasn't necessary when just wondering what time it was that they got to an inn.
They were in a rundown city East of Jouvente. The people there were nice, and offered free rooms for the newfound saviors. Mirabelle, however, immediately declined and insisted on actually buying their place to stay. The desk lady gave up after fifteen minutes of back and forth and handed Mirabelle a jingly key, accepting her cash.
…Vaugardians were weird. Siffrin would've accepted the free room in a heartbeat. Maybe that's why they'd never been good with people.
Mirabelle guided the other three up the stairs and down the hallway to a nice little room. Two beds! While Siffrin had no idea how the group usually navigated sleeping situations, he immediately offered to just stay on the couch. Odile wanted her own bed, and Mirabelle and Isabeau were a lot closer with one another than Siffrin was to either of them. So, it made sense. It'd be rather uncomfortable to share a bed with a stranger, Siffrin thought.
Mirabelle and Isabeau both tried to take up the couch instead, but relented upon Siffrin's explanation. Neither wanted to make them uncomfortable! Especially not so early on their journey. If boundaries were going to be pushed for one another, better for it to be after they'd become friends.
Wait, no that wasn't right. Stupid. Siffrin had to kill Mirabelle. There wouldn't be any more journey soon. Of course they wouldn't become friends! So, certainly, the sofa was the best course of action. No point in getting any closer to these forever strangers than necessary.
While the three debated over the final bed, Madame Odile had already taken herself to sleep. An ‘I’m too old for this’ ordeal. Siffrin supposed she had the right idea, but didn't exactly appreciate the lights-out while they were still awake and conversing with peers.
Apparently Isabeau and Mirabelle felt the same, because it was shortly after Odile's departure that they had given up and agreed to share a bed, as aforementioned.
And so, Siffrin relaxed into the tiny couch with a sigh, pulling a thick blanket over their body. His cloak and hat were folded beside him on another cushion, though the prospect of leaving such possessions to be vulnerable as Siffrin slept scared him.
They didn't know why, but the articles were deeply sentimental to them. It was an odd feeling, considering Siffrin had no memory of where he'd gotten them. But it mattered to him.
He looked up at the ceiling, being met with nothing but plain drywall. Siffrin actually quite missed sleeping outside, feeling the breeze through their scalp and seeing the constellations above them, not that they could name any. It was fun to pretend, though. To make their own shapes. Sleeping below the stars made slumber less lonely.
Even now, with newfound allies just in the other room, deep down Siffrin knew they wouldn't stick around. He knew they'd hate the real him. Those weren't allies in that room, but instead enemies-to-be—and that thought made their stomach churn.
Quit thinking, Siffrin. Thinking only ever made things go downhill for him. Siffrin closed his eyes, flipping on his side and trying to get a bit of shut-eye before the potentially long journey ahead.
Siffrin dreamed that night of stars.
——
ACT 1: SCENE 2
It was day three of their journey as a savior. Siffrin wore that title with shame, actually. He wasn't saving anyone, only causing mild inconveniences for the group. He blamed it on mere idiocy, when in actuality it was insolence.
Siffrin preferred to just be the skilled but dumb one. The member who could take out any enemy you throw their way, yet couldn’t answer a simple question on ethics or basic primary school learning. It was easier to play the role of the idiot. Although this did mean that Siffrin became exactly the sort of person that he hated.
Airheads were the bane of Siffrin’s existence—the epitome of a joy-sucking leech. These were people who just couldn’t grasp concepts, no matter how hard you drilled it into their thick skull. It really made Siffrin want to rip his hair out in clusters. How in star’s name could one find it genuinely impossible to comprehend basic subjects?
This didn't apply to the current group, luckily. While Siffrin knew that Isabeau was labeled an idiot, he could tell that it was just the same stunt Siffrin was pulling. As a professional phoney, it was pretty easy for Siffrin to notice the signs of a faux personality on Isabeau.
Of course, they had no clue what Isabeau could possibly be trying to hide. With themself, they were obscuring their whole private identity, which was kind of a big deal. They didn’t really think Isabeau had anything to hide, though. Isabeau was sweet and uplifting. He was a great person and Siffrin couldn’t imagine any reason he’d have to mask his true self.
Not that saying that meant anything. Nothing here was personal. Siffrin was just making astute observations about the obstacles he was going to have to face. Isabeau was, by definition, a good human being.
Enough said about the fighter, though. Siffrin himself had constructed a very important mission plan for the day. The group was going out scavenging later. The goal for the day was to create and obtain any tonics or elixirs that may be useful in battle.
Lately, they found that the sadnesses that they came across had plenty of unfair advantages. The only way to cancel out their abilities was to create some advantages of their own, which led them to this idea.
Siffrin conjured up his own idea—on how to foil this mission of theirs. While he couldn’t exactly prevent them from gathering the tonics they desire, he could make sure that their discoveries were for naught.
Siffrin’s ‘big idea’ was to combine every mixture they find into one mega tonic. He’d say it was an impulse with good intentions. The group would probably buy it. He knew Odile would holler at him, but Mirabelle and Isabeau would just offer him advice with kind hearts.
It seemed, actually, that this entire mission would be a lot easier without Odile. Mirabelle and Isabeau, they were both so gullible. So understanding. Odile, however, she obviously had more life experience—wisdom. She knew exactly how to read Siffrin and catch their blackened heart in a bluff. Stars, if it weren’t for Mirabelle and Isabeau always redirecting Odile’s hostility, Siffrin was sure that they would’ve been found out by now. It was mortifying, knowing they were such a bad liar. Siffrin could’ve sworn they were a better actor than this.
Siffrin pulled his boots on, under his cargos, zipping the inside of the shoe before standing up. It gave him maybe a two-to-three inch height difference. It wasn’t much, but it helped to feel less vulnerable. Bigger, taller, more in charge of himself. They quickly slipped on their utility belt; it jingled subtly with their different trinkets and weapons. Siffrin took a deep breath in, and out.
With a stride, they exited their tent and met up with the rest of their group.
“There you are,” Odile commented, “now we’re just waiting on Isabeau. He’s brushing his teeth.” She mumbled, looking through her book; it was open to a specific page, not that Siffrin knew why. They subconsciously licked their teeth as Odile mentioned Isabeau’s current activity.
Siffrin actually didn’t know the last time they’d brushed their teeth, or if they ever had. They didn’t even own a toothbrush. Maybe that was enough explanation for the rotten taste that constantly lingered on their tongue. It just wasn’t part of their daily routine, and it’d be rather hard to add another step to their day after getting used to the same one for years. Siffrin figured it wasn’t that important. If brushing their teeth was so vital, then they wouldn’t have forgotten to do so.
Isabeau emerged from his tent, smiling as he noticed everyone was already outside. “Sorry for the hold up.” Said he, being courteous more than actually apologetic. “We’re all ready to go?” Mirabelle asked the three. Everyone nodded in response, giving her permission to begin walking.
Odile handed her book off to Mirabelle, leading Siffrin to now know what she was looking at in her book earlier. It was a glued-in map leading them to any nearby villages that they could raid. It labeled which were the wealthiest, had the richest crops, and contained the smartest workers. Mirabelle first took them in the direction of smarter communities, as that implied that they were knowledgeable on tonic brewing.
They soon approached a quaint suburban town, riddled with overgrown grasses. It was completely empty—no sadnesses nor sulking survivors. Siffrin figured that the townspeople fled after hearing about the King. Possibly to Jouvente. They must have left in a hurry, however, for their houses all had their doors left open. After a quick glance, Siffrin could tell that the insides of their houses were a mess.
“Oh dear…” Mirabelle muttered. If there were any tonics here, surely they’d either been taken with the old residents or crushed inside their house.
“Don’t immediately assume the worst.” Odile chided, placing a hand on Mirabelle’s shoulder. “Surely there’s an alchemist’s around here somewhere.”
“It could be empty though!” Mirabelle countered.
“We walked all this way already! It’s worth checking.” Isabeau added. Mirabelle sighed and brushed aside her own pessimistic thoughts, “Fine, fine. But if it’s a lost cause, you all owe me.” She pointed fingers at all three of the party members.
Siffrin jumped in his spot. Did that apply to him? He hadn’t spoken at all on the subject! “But—” Siffrin tried, but Mirabelle held her palm up to say ‘stop’. “I saw that agreeing look in your eyes.” She squinted menacingly at them. Siffrin stood there for a moment, processing what had happened.
“C’mon, Siffrin.” Isabeau nudged them along, seeing as the rest of the group had begun walking away. Siffrin very quickly gathered his bearings, joining with the crew. “Isabeau?” Siffrin asked, somewhat vulnerably. “Hm?” He turned and looked down at Siffrin, to his right. “You don’t think Mirabelle is upset with me, right?” They raised an eyebrow; Siffrin spoke in something of a whisper.
Isabeau cracked a smile, “Of course not! Mira’s just messing around. I guess you haven’t seen it from her yet, huh?” Siffrin shook their head. “Well, you know how some people will make fun of their friends to tease them?” Isabeau mumbled.
“Yeah?” Siffrin replied.
“Well, she’s not that kind of person. Instead, Mirabelle will kinda just threaten you.” He shrugged.
Siffrin considered the new information. Would that be important to know for his assassination? Probably not. He supposed it didn’t tell him anything about her as a person. Other than that she was a better friend than most people. “Thanks.” Siffrin said, still a little lost in thought.
“Of course, buddy! I’m here to be your… advice-guy.” Isabeau stammered slightly on his made-up word.
Siffrin chuckled to themself. Isabeau really was a charming guy. Maybe they could spare him when it came time. It wasn’t like they were being paid for his life—just Mirabelle’s.
“Is this it?” Mirabelle squinted at the building in front of them, her steps coming to a halt. “I believe so.” Odile looked around the exterior, her expression full of suspicion.
“It is. You can tell by the bucket outside.” Siffrin pointed accordingly, then added, “They use it to catch rainwater for their tonics.” “Very insightful, Siffrin.”
Siffrin shuffled into his cloak’s turtleneck, hiding from the praise. So helpful, Siffrin. He really had to learn to keep his mouth shut. Handing out advice to his current enemy wasn’t exactly advised. It’s fine—he was just gonna spoil their tonics in the end anyway. It didn’t matter how many they obtained or how quickly they did it; regardless, Siffrin would still put their work to shame.
He sighed and entered the small wooden hut with his party. Siffrin looked around the building: It was dripping from the roof with some sort of dark sticky substance. The whole room had a deathly scent of musk. Siffrin cringed. “It’s like a pigsty.” Odile muttered, looking over her glasses’ lenses. Isabeau nodded, scrunching his face, “Whatever it is, smells.”
Siffrin, for one, couldn’t smell anything. They’d actually come to realize that their sense of smell was really restrained. They couldn’t usually detect a bad smell unless it was notably putrid—this little hut didn’t even come close to the worst of what they’ve witnessed. Though, Siffrin supposed the smell of dead, rotting, rodents didn’t compare to most everyday scents.
“Mirabelle?” Odile called out, looking around for the girl. Siffrin perked up, followed by Isabeau, as they noticed her sudden disappearance. “What, she just walked off?” Isabeau began walking around the room, glancing through door frames.
Siffrin hummed to himself and grabbed a distinctly thick shard of broken glass.
“I guess she did.” Odile retorted, a hint of offense slipping through her tongue. “I presume she’s finding us items of actual worth. I highly doubt she left for personal gain.” She informed the two, sounding like she was struggling to believe in her own speech. “I got it.” Siffrin flipped the glass like a coin—it gleamed in the sunlight—and held it firmly in their gloved palm. Odile gave them a look. “You know where she went?” She looked askance.
“Yeah, I’ll bring her over.” Siffrin smiled in an eerily cutesy manner.
Odile glanced towards Isabeau, trying to share a distasteful look with him, but she wasn’t met with a match. Instead, Isabeau looked forward at Siffrin with a silly grin. She groaned internally as Siffrin walked off into another room with a skip in his step.
This was it: a free opportunity to be alone with Mirabelle. Siffrin could slit her throat and finally be rid of the burden that came with her presence. Siffrin peered around every corner, waltzing slowly like a felidae.
He gripped his glass shard tightly. “Mirabelle?” Siffrin called out, hearing as it echoed once… twice—”Yes?!” Mirabelle replied from afar. She eventually poked her head out from a random door in the wall.
“Odile was looking for you. Where’d you go?” Said Siffrin through artificial curiosity. He walked up to Mirabelle, looking through the door she had come from. “Oh! I found this little storage cabinet; it’s filled with tonics.” Mirabelle held out the glasses of variously-shaded potions for Siffrin to see. She grinned like a mouse.
“Ah,” Siffrin cursed under his breath, “Nice. Can I look?” He began subtly pushing her into the closet, following closely in front. “Uhm! Well, I already dug through everything… but if you wanna?” She tried to say politely as she walked backwards, unknowingly backed into a corner.
Siffrin nodded, looking up and around as he twisted the glass in his hand and gained a grip on the makeshift weapon. “Yeah, these vials look empty.” He muttered, licking his teeth in his mouth. The door closed without clicking behind them. Siffrin looked straight ahead, meeting Mirabelle’s eyes—his own chillingly wide. “Siffrin?” Mirabelle giggled.
Stars, she was undermining him again. Siffrin pulled his arm back, armed and ready to jab into her pulse point when—
“Siffrin!”
There it was again. Only this time from Isabeau. Siffrin fell out of focus, dropping his shard of glass as he looked around frantically.
“What was that?” Mirabelle muttered about the glass’ noise, though Siffrin drowned out the sound. The pantry door swung open again with Isabeau peeking in through the doorframe. He would have stepped in, had it not been for the fact that the pantry was out of room. “I found them, m’dame!” He gestured to the cabinet, looking off in what Siffrin assumed was her direction.
“We just followed the echo of your voice, Siffrin.” Odile crossed her arms as everyone filed out of the miniscule storage-room. She watched Mirabelle carefully, looking down to Mirabelle’s slightly shivering hands. “Can we talk, Mirabelle?” She asked gently. “What about?” Mirabelle replied, walking off with Odile, who had a hand on her shoulder.
Siffrin turned to Isabeau and forced a laugh, “What’s that about?” He asked awkwardly as their voices faded away. “Probably just lady things. I don’t know.” Isabeau shrugged. “How are you holding up?”
“Why do you ask?” Siffrin inquired defensively—immediately. He clutched his own arms in each other. “You just seem a little… frazzled. I gotta look out for my only other guy here.” Isabeau said with a genuine smile.
“I’m not a guy.” Siffrin mumbled, relaxing their shoulders. “But thanks.” They looked up at Isabeau. “Non-lady friend, then! We gotta be there for one another, yeah?” “Yeah.” Siffrin nodded, thinking a little too deeply about the implications.
“Mirabelle found some tonics in here.” They pointed a thumb back towards the pantry. “That’s good! Odile and I were turning up dry in our attempts.” Isabeau said, “I mean, just looking around, there are quite a few glowy substances spread around on the floor. Not many up for grabs. Lots of broken glass, too. Super dangerous.” He added. Siffrin knew first hand how dangerous the discarded glass could be, considering they had tried to use it before Isabeau’s untimely interruption.
“Yeah, good thing nobody walks around barefoot.” Siffrin said sarcastically. Isabeau nodded, as if he didn’t pick up on the tone. Siffrin knew he heard it; Siffrin also knew Isabeau wasn’t going to point it out, in light of seeming like an idiot.
“So, r’you settling in fine?” Isabeau asked. “Huh?” Siffrin replied, only half-conscious. “Into the party, I mean. How are you liking this whole savior business? Pretty cool, right?” He sat down against the wall, looking up at Siffrin for once. Siffrin’s momentary height didn’t last long, however, as they too sat down—beside Isabeau, “I guess.” They spat out, trying to keep their replies short. Isabeau noticed.
“You think they don’t like you, huh?” Isabeau tilted his head. Siffrin stammered slightly. They weren’t supposed to care if they liked them or not. And, well, they didn’t care. At least they could’ve sworn they didn’t. So it didn’t matter. “It’s not that. Besides, how do you—”
“I know you, Siffrin. I mean, not as in I know much about you! Because I don’t; we just met,” Isabeau monologued, “But I just mean I understand you. I see… a version of myself in you. I too used to fixate too much on people’s opinions. Ultimately, though, all that matters is your opinion! If you’re who you wanna be, then why bother with them? Oh, and besides, Mira and Odile do care about you. So, if it’s them you’re worrying about, then it’s irrational.” He reassured them.
Siffrin looked down at their boots, hugging their legs subtly. He was just saying all this to be nice. Surely, Isabeau would say that to anyone. It didn’t hold meaning. This moment meant nothing to Isabeau, didn’t it?
“Thank you.” Siffrin smiled. Their mask was slipping. Isabeau didn’t notice. “Of course!” He gave them that stupid grin.
Odile and Mirabelle rounded the corner again, Mirabelle looking as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Odile, for once, sported a small grin. Perhaps it was more of a smirk. Siffrin squinted, trying to read her expression. “Madame?” Siffrin spoke.
“Yes, Siffrin?” She glared at them from over her glasses.
“Nevermind.” Siffrin shrugged, standing up. Isabeau too was already off the floor. Odile took in a breath to speak, but was beaten to the action by Isabeau, “Whelp! Not sure we’ll find much else in here.” He put his hands on his hips, looking around, “Do we wanna head to another building? Maybe a whole new town?”
Mirabelle nodded. “Here, Madame!” She held out her small collection of tonics to Odile for her to carry. Odile took each bottle with care, slipping them into a safe place on her person. “Very well. Lead the way, Mirabelle.” She held out one hand in courtesy.
Mirabelle picked up her skirt and began prancing out of the hut, the group following behind her in a line. As Odile turned to follow, Siffrin could’ve sworn he caught a glimpse of a glower on her face.
Siffrin hid into his cloak like a hermit crab, looking down at the ground for the rest of the trip.
——
ACT 1: SCENE 3
The sun fell in the sky, casting a dark glow over the fields of Vaugarde. Siffrin’s feet ached from the mission this morning—they’d been traveling around looking for tonics for nearly twelve hours without break. It wasn’t for waste, though, as they’d actually gathered a beautiful collection of sparkly tonics and elixirs. Siffrin didn’t know what any of them did, of course, but they were quite pretty to look at.
Even prettier, Siffrin assumed, would be the collection of potions once he mixed all of them together. He actually debated on taking a sip of the concoction once it was done, just to sell the whole act. It depended on how desperate he would later decide to be.
Just combining the tonics could be dangerous in itself, but Siffrin figured it was worth the pretty penny that he was being offered for Mirabelle’s life. It probably wouldn’t kill him anyway, seen as all the tonics they had collected were for healing, speed, or defense. A combination of the three couldn’t, logically, be fatal.
Siffrin snuck the glass vials into his tent, along with the wooden bowl he’d used for dinner. He pulled the tonics out of his pockets; they could be heard gently swishing amongst the nightly silence. Siffrin popped the cork off the potion’s glass bottle, pouring it carefully into the bowl.
With each addition, the shades swirled together in a substance that glowed in the dark, lighting up the curves of Siffrin’s face. Siffrin squinted slightly as he continued in his task. He let out soft exhales as he worked, his heart racing slightly for reasons unbeknownst to him.
As the tonics added up, their glow became brighter. Soon, his whole tent looked more like a firefly than a sleeping quarter. Only enough to rouse the lightest sleeper, mind you. Just Siffrin’s luck, though, Odile happened to be the lightest he knew. He could hear brisk steps approaching through the grass.
Siffrin jumped slightly, quickly relinquishing their focused gaze and adopting a more doe-eyed expression to sell the whole innocent factor. Odile unzipped Siffrin’s tent, squinting her bare eyes at the bright light that suddenly became her. “Gems alive!” She exclaimed, covering her eyes with her palm.
Siffrin twisted their head backwards in Odile’s direction, peering at her on their knees from the floor. “Hi, Madame!” They smiled, though it was blurry without Odile’s glasses. She scoffed at them, “What are you doing awake? What is that?” Odile nodded towards the radioactive-appearing bowl.
“It’s my super potion.” Siffrin grabbed the bowl and turned around with it, lifting it up to Odile’s eyes. “I—what? I didn’t know you were a brewer.” She murmured, taking the bowl in her palms.
“I’m not.” Siffrin blinked.
“Then how did you…”
Odile looked around the ground, squinting as she realized where the strewn bottles had come from. “Siffrin!” She yelled. “What?” Siffrin said. “Please do not tell me that you’ve used up all our tonics on this.” Odile gestured to the bowl in her hands. Siffrin gave her a puzzled look. “What? It’ll give us all the buffs at once with just a sip.”
“Oh, is that so?” Odile hissed, sarcasm leaking through her lips. “Yeah.” Siffrin ignored her tone. “Hold this.” She shoved the bowl back into their arms, spilling a bit onto the front of their cloak. Siffrin frowned at the stain, watching as Odile stormed out of the tent. They could overhear her distressed shouts, aimed at Mirabelle and Isabeau.
Siffrin had just a moment to break character and breathe. They exhaled, fixed their hair, and sat up straight before plastering back on their characterization, waiting for the party’s arrival. On cue, Odile burst back into the tent, now accompanied by Mirabelle and Isabeau—both of which looked half-asleep. Odile slid her glasses back onto her nose.
“Mind explaining what you did?” Odile nudged. Siffrin looked down at his feet, “I didn’t mean to.” They replied, looking pathetic for sympathy points. Odile urged them to go on. Siffrin sighed, “I combined all the tonics for maximum benefits.” They looked up, seeing a lack of empathetic expressions. Siffrin quickly added, “Or something.”
“...Huh?” Mirabelle squinted.
“If you take a drink, you’ll get every buff instead of one. Right?” Siffrin asked. “Oh, buddy…” Isabeau sucked on his teeth. “Look, I’ll prove it,” All or nothing. Siffrin lifted their bowl, taking a gulp from the concoction. Odile, Mirabelle, and Isabeau all alike began screaming protests, waving their arms dramatically.
Siffrin’s vision very expeditiously fluttered and flashed. They had to blink and steady themself before hunching over, hurling onto the tent’s plastic floor—tonight's dinner now a puddle of muck. Siffrin’s mouth watered, their eyes tearing up from the exertion. “Oh stars.” They blinked. Their pale eyelashes felt heavy from the tears.
In the corner of his blurred vision, Siffrin could see Isabeau kneeling by his side. He rubbed a hand across Siffrin’s back for comfort, though Siffrin instinctually flinched away. “Sorry.” He heard Isabeau whisper.
“I’ll get him water!” Mirabelle called out, rushing through the unzipped tent opening.
Siffrin shuddered gently, feeling the aftereffects of vomit. Isabeau muttered short phrases, likely trying to comfort him. Siffrin was drowning it all out, though. Odile watched from the corner. Siffrin paid her no mind at this point.
Siffrin wiped his eyes with his cloak, swallowing thickly and licking his teeth to subside the burn in his mouth and throat. He mumbled quiet curses in a foreign language. What a rush! That hurt. Siffrin’s tongue still roared with the bad taste of puke, but, wow, he felt alive. Method acting was a thrill to experience. Siffrin laughed subtly to himself, causing Isabeau more distress than he deserved.
Mirabelle returned to the tent, getting on her knees in front of Siffrin with a filtration bottle. “Here,” She offered. Siffrin took the flask graciously, sighing as the purified water glazed and cleansed his throat.
“Do you need medicine?” She asked. “I know it isn’t a stomach bug, so, uhm, maybe that was a silly question.” Odile behind her began wiping up the vomit with a rag she’d pulled from her cardigan.
Siffrin sighed and caught his breath, “I’ll be fine.” He gave a meek thumbs up. Mirabelle still looked worried, but this time she seemed less rushed and frantic.
“M’dame, do you know why a tonic combination would cause nausea?” Isabeau turned in her direction. Odile huffed slightly, adjusting her footing as she stood up. “Well, my guess is that something in each tonic doesn't react well with one another; some ingredient that wasn’t in every potion for a reason. They probably just overexerted his senses and gave Siffrin a headache so bad that it overwhelmed the nervous system and induced nausea.” Odile turned to look down at Siffrin, “Light sensitivity too?”
Siffrin nodded, taking another sip of water from Mirabelle’s bottle. He could see some lightless lipstick stains around the rim; Siffrin silently prayed those were old and wouldn’t transfer onto his face.
“Okay… well! It has certainly been a day.” Isabeau said awkwardly, beginning to stand up. “Do you want someone to come in and sleep in your tent with you, Siffrin, or are you safe to be alone?” Stars, please no. Siffrin shook his head.
“No, no, I’m good now. No need to worry.” Siffrin began to unlatch the safety pins on his cloak, although he wouldn’t actually take it off yet around company. He did, however, remove his hat and place it down on the flooring beside his blankets.
Mirabelle and Isabeau filed out shortly—showering Siffrin in condolences—leaving just Odile and Siffrin again. Odile stared quietly at him before sighing. “Next time, when you want that rush, let me know and we’ll attend a bar.” She gibed and exited. Siffrin saw her shadow on the other side of the tent throw her dirty rag onto the floor.
Siffrin grumbled to himself, removing his cloak and settling down into his blankets. The ground beneath him was a soft grass, and rather comfortable considering they were in the great outdoors. Arguably better than his past sleeping quarters, before the party.
Siffrin sighed and turned onto his stomach. He grabbed the bowl of ambiguous tonic-concoction and threw up again into its contents. His throat burned. Siffrin cried out gently, steadying himself on his trembling arms.
Just another day, he told himself. That was all Siffrin needed before this journey could come to a close—before Mirabelle could accept destiny. One more day.