Chapter Text
It feels like going to sleep. You had been fighting for so long, all you wanted was rest. Your remains scatter into the wind, never to be seen again. It feels like being carried to bed as a child. It feels like sinking into the covers at an inn after weeks sleeping in trees. It feels like cantaloupe candy on your tongue. It feels like a lullaby. It feels like—
a
tug
on
your
heart
You wake up in the dirt. Long branches block the cloudy autumn sky you know is behind them.
You're back.
Why are you back? It was over, it had to be over.
You shove the heels of your hands into your eye sockets. You want to scream. You need to scream. You can't — the Fighter will hear you. You clamp a hand over your mouth before anything that might draw attention to you leaks out.
Wait. Your mouth? You don't have a mouth! Or at least, you don't think you did? You run your hands across your face. Mouth, nose, ears, hair…
You're you? You're you again! A giggle escapes your lips (you have those!!!) and you stand, inhaling deeply. (Because you can!!!!) It smells like dead leaves and baked goods. Stars, when was the last time you ate something? Should you go into town? But you have no money aside from your coin (his coin?) and you do not want to be recognized. (Is it being recognized if you're not that person anymore.)
You pace beneath the tree, adjusting to the sensations of your cloak swishing as you walk in your heeled boots. Something is wrong. (Understatement of the neverending day, teehee~) The sparrow with the missing tail feather always comes to catch a beetle by now. Stardust should be here by now.
The leaves on the tree are… wrong. You've spent enough time under this canopy to know exactly how many leaves are on each branch, and which are torn or dead. They're different.
It is the Dormont Favor Tree, right? Yes, there are the roots you and stardust would sit on every loop while you talked. There's something else there. Between the roots is a plaque, or maybe a flat gravestone. There's no name, just a phrase carved into the rock.
[May the stars guide you on your next journey]
You trace each letter, wiping the dirt that accumulated in the grooves. This is your grave, isn't it?
How long has it been?
-.-.-
No one pays you any mind when you finally brave the town, which is a relief. The town is different. The buildings are larger, there are more Change God statues (eww) in the center of town. Something jingles in your pocket. To your surprise when you reach inside you find a hefty bag of coins. There's a note tied to the bag.
"Congrats on the Change!!!!!!!!!!! ദ്ദി(｡✪ω✪｡)ｼ
"With love,
"Meeeeee!"
Eww. Well, you might as while make use of them. (Just to be sure, you check to make sure the coin is safe in its own pocket. You aren’t ready to find them and you may never be. But you made a promise. You'll have to follow through eventually.)
The general store is much nicer, with freshly painted walls and sturdier shelves. You don't know how to feel about any of this. After years of the same day, it's finally different. And you missed so much of it.
Near the back of the store are some clothes for sale. You don't need more clothes, you never had more than one outfit before Mira took you shopping but it gives you chance to do something new! (There's a mirror in the corner, but you don't dare look. You don't want to know what you look like, or think about how it makes you feel.)
(Do you want to look like your old self — like stardust? You have no idea, and ~why ruin the mystery?~)
(Then again, when have you ever had a choice in these things? Better to rip off the bandage!)
You're different. Your face is thinner, and your eyes (yes, eyes, plural) aren't are narrower. Your cloak is darker. It opens in the front now, and the inner lining is lightless, with little glittering stars. Your hair, now fully darkless, almost glows. And either your shirt has a star on the chest or - yep, your star is still there. You~ don't~ know~ how it makes you feel, only that your chest feels so tight you can barely breathe.
-.-.-
This time of year is always hard for you.
While the rest of Vaugarde celebrates the anniversary of their unfreezing — your victory, it's just another reminder of how much time has passed. It's a reminder of how another year has gone by and you've barely made any progress in your recovery. It's a reminder that you can never hold onto anything forever. It's another year and Loop is still gone.
Bonnie, Mira, and Nille are all at the House working on the party and Odile is (allegedly) working on her new (and very real) research. That just leaves you and Isa in your apartment above the store. He's hard at work on a special design for a new client — a young woman named Aimée who recently transitioned to using a wheelchair full time whose old wardrobe consisted almost entirely of long flowey skirts and dresses that will snag on the wheels.
It's not the first time he's designed clothes for someone in a wheelchair (that honor goes to you a few years ago when your chronic craft exhaustion flared up with a vengeance) but it's the first time the client has been so specific about the style they want them in. (You can't say you blame her for wanting to keep something from her old life, and not just because of your specific hangups around Change.)
(A coin burns in your pocket.)
You were half-heartedly trying to read something you picked up from the library. It's not a bad book, you would probably enjoy it on a normal day, but you cannot focus on anything today. Every few pages you realize you've just been looking at the words without actually reading and you have to flip back and start over.
There's a pleasant chime as the door to the shop swings open. Tiphanie, Isa's apprentice, calls out faer standard bubbly greeting. A proud smile tugs at Isa's lips. Back when she started, fae was terribly shy and always second-guessing herself on everything. You can barely recognize that timid person now. (Isa is too modest to take credit for any part of faer Change, but you all know anyway.) As Tiphanie continues speaking with the new client you both return to your work. Fae knows enough to handle most customer inquiries without Isa's input.
Of course you thinking about that means that this is one of those times where she does need input. The bell next to Isa's desk rings. (A clever set-up from Odile — the bell is tied to a string that hangs over the register for someone to tug if they need Isa.) "Crab, Sif, do you think you could go let Ti know I'll down in a minute? I just need to finish this sleeve first." You flash him a thumbs up. Halfway down the stairs you realize he probably wasn't looking and chide yourself for being so oblivious.
"Hi Tiphanie, Isa will be down in a moment, he just —" The customer gasps. You lock eyes.
You've never see them before, but you know who they are all the same. Those eyes of separate shades. The way they hold their elbows. You know them like your shadow.
You leap into their arms, sending you both hurtling to the floor. "Loop!" You cry, throat already tight with emotion.
"Hello to you too, stardust."