Chapter Text
INT. CLOCKTOWER - NIGHT
THE FIGHTER
(Whispering.)
Hey... hey Sif. Siffrin. Siffarooni.
THE WANDERER
(After a moment of consideration, they roll over.)
THE FIGHTER
Um... Sorry? To wake you up? I just you something. okay?
THE WANDERER
(Stares blankly, then nods.)
THE FIGHTER
»»»
—seemed really out of it, and I wanted you to know that if there's anything you needed to get off your chest, I'm here for you! W-we all are!
Wait, what? That's not the script. Why is he…?
It's because you didn't do your job well enough. Your poor acting made him worried. Nice going Siffrin, you scared him!
"…Sif? Can you hear me?" Stars he was still talking, and you missed it. Come on, get your act together!
"Sorry Isa, it's nothing!" You assure with your brightest smile. It doesn't seem to help. Of course not, it's dark, he probably can't see your face. The sound of rustling sheets tells you Bonnie and Mira are waking up.
"Are you sure, because—"
"I'm going to get some air." You announce, standing stiffly. Before anyone can stop you, you hurry out of the clocktower. It's not until the grass tickles your bare feet you realize you didn't even grab your shoes or cloak. No matter, it's not like you can catch a cold~
You lean against the side of the tower and breathe. In, and out. The brick scrapes your back through your sleepwear as you slide to the chilly ground. You should probably just go find the banana. This loop is toast. Hmm, fruit, toast, there has to be a pun in there somewhere. Oh well, another time! (Heh, time. Still got it. Too bad no one else would get it.)
The door creaks open, and you definitely don't jump, or reach for the dagger you don't have with you.
"Ah! Sorry buddy, I didn't mean to startle you." Isa says, hands raised placatingly.
"What are you doing?"
In lieu of an answer, Isa plops down next to you. He turns to you and smiles, his eyes crinkling with concern. "Is there something you want to tell me?" When you don't answer, he sighs. "You're not gonna make this easy for me, are you?" Poor Isabeau. You can't imagine how frustrating it must be for someone not to open up. Oh. Wait. Yes you can, ha! "Sif, Siffrin. I really don't want to overstep, " (and yet here we are,) "but I can tell that something's bothering you. We uh, we all can." You stiffen. "We weren't trying to talk behind your back or anything!" He adds quickly, as if he knew you would be thinking it (because it'sobvious that they are.) "It's just, when you stepped out, we all, got worried? Well, more worried."
"You shouldn't be." You mutter. It's cold without your cloak. Why didn't you grab it?
"Not how that works, buddy. Maybe if you tell me what's wrong, we'll both feel better?" He offers.
Well you can't do that. That will make him really worried. Angry too, you think. The then fabric of your pants does nothing to stop your nails from digging into your thighs.
"It's about tomorrow, right?" Dumbly, you shake your head. "No? Because it would be totally understandable if you were worried about tomorrow. I know I am!" He chuckles weakly.
"Tomorrow will be fine." You mumble into your forearms. Isa stares at you. You wonder, what he sees. "You don't need to worry about it."
"Sif—" He reaches for your shoulder, but, just like ALWAYS, he stops short. You stand so quick he stumbles back.
"Everything is fine! We're all going to be fine! So there's nothing for you to worry about! Just go back to bed, Isabeau." Your shoulders shake as you glare at him.
"No. Not until you tell me what's wrong." He insists. "Or, if it's me, I'll get one of the others, and you can tell them. But I don't like the idea of you bottling this up whatever this is. Especially when tomorrow we'll be going to face the King."
"Really?" You turn slowly to face him. "This is when you get your courage? Stars Isa, you're useless!" He steps back, flinching as hard as if you slapped him. You take a step closer. Even the insects have quieted for you. "You never can say it. You can never say what you mean. But now, for this? I can't even figure out what this is. What did I do, huh? What did I do to make you so worried when you never notice every other time!"
"Every other…? Sif…" Something clicks. You don't know if he's figured you out, but he's heard enough that his eyes are wide in fear.
Of you.
«««
THE FIGHTER
(Whispering.)
Hey... hey Sif. Siffrin. Siffarooni.
THE WANDERER
(They do not turn around.)
THE FIGHTER
...Already asleep, huh?
...
Goodnight, Sif...
-.-.-
Something is wrong with Siffrin. You didn't notice until this afternoon (or maybe it only started this afternoon.) When he approached you at the Favor Tree to tell you about Mira's sleepover plan, it was like they weren't even talking to you, just at you. Like someone reciting a presentation for class.
You're not the only one who noticed, either. Odile approached you about it at the Clock Tower, to ask Sif seemed off to you too.
"So it's not just me?" Mira asked.
"No, it's not."
"Are you sure it's not just stress about tomorrow?" You ask, not because you believe it, but because it's the kind of thing a dumb jock might say.
"Isabeau, have you ever seen Siffrin express any kind of concern about tomorrow?" Odile asked sarcastically.
"Crab, you're right." To Sif, it was always like facing the King was no big deal. Like he knew you would all be fine. Or maybe, it just never occurred to them until now, that you might not all make it out of this alive.
"Should we say something? Maybe at dinner?" Mira asked, wringing her hands anxiously.
"No, if it's all of us, they might get too defensive. And besides," you glanced towards the kitchen, and pretended very hard to not notice the top of a hat disappearing around the edge of the door. Mira nodded.
"In that case, can I trust you to talk to him?" Odile said, turning towards you.
Well, you certainly tried. You tried to pull Sif aside after dinner, but he claimed to be too tired. Usually, Sif is a night owl, but the heavy dark circles under his eyes made you believe him. Yet when you climbed into bed beside him he was still awake.
"Hey... hey Sif." You call quietly. Their shoulders tense, and you know he hears you. "Siffrin. Siffarooni."
You could push, you could tell him you know they're awake, that you're worried. But you don't. You pretend not to notice the way his breaths are too forced, his body too stiff. It's not something someone like you would notice anyway.
-.-.-
You're so focused on getting through the House as fast as you can without breaking the script, you. Hit. Your blinding hip. Into the blinding counter. Again. You bite your lip so hard you taste blood. No one says anything.
You need a break.
You stumble past the counter, and all but collapse to the floor. "Woah, Sif… You okay?" You don't say anything. You don't know what will come out, if you open your mouth. Isabeau sits down next to you. Just like last night. (Except that didn't happen, because you erased it.)
He holds a hand to his chest, and breathes slowly. In, and out. ("Just like Sif does!") You follow, just to keep him from worrying any more than he already is. Every breathe of frozen, stale air is like cold smoke in your lungs.
No one says anything when you get back up, but you can tell from their faces they want to. So you flash your biggest smile and tell them you're fine!
-.-.-
You’re doing your best not to pry, but the farther you go, the less fine Sif gets. If he doesn't break soon, you will. Sure, other than the moment in the kitchen, he's been really on his game today-their attacks are so much stronger than you expected, and even the way he walks up and down the halls shows a deadly precision you've never seen from him. But it feels like whenever one of you talks he isn't listening at all, just sort of nodding along. And they look so tired. A hazy sheen covers his eye, eyebags dark enough to look like bruises. Despite their new battle prowess, he moves like a marionette when he thinks no one is looking. Stiff and wooden, any part not in use hangs like the strings have gone slack.
Even when you break for snacks, their motions are rote. Their smile too wide, their lips pressed too thin as they recite a thank you to Bonnie.
In another life, your older brother pulled you aside once, and told you he was worried. He thought you might be depressed, or worse, he said. You hadn't realized how numb you had felt until that moment. It's not like you stopped doing any of the things you were meant to do. Your grades were almost perfect, you didn't skip meals or forget to brush your hair or anything like that. But even though you didn't feel sad, you weren't happy with yourself either.
Is Siffrin… unhappy with himself? Sure, they could just be stressed-today is the day you beat the King, or die trying. But even losing an eye didn't faze him this much.
No, it must be something more. You have no idea what it could be, to change things so suddenly, but even an airhead like you pretend to be can tell something has changed, or even Changed. As soon as you can, you need to talk to them.
You get your chance in the secret library. (That not even Mira knew existed, yet Siffrin knew exactly where the switch was for it.) The others are huddled around a book Bonnie found on shields, that apparently recommends the same method Sif told Mira about yesterday. Too absorbed in his own book, Sif doesn't notice. "Whatcha got there, buddy?" You ask, peering over their shoulder. The words swim across the page like dirt in turbid water. "Oof, weird wiggly headache words."
"It's another book on Wish Craft."
"Wish Craft? What's that?" It sounds like something out of a fairy tale, but Siffrin isn't joking. You know what their joking face looks like.
"Did I not…?" They mumble to himself, before shaking his head. There's that too-tight smile again. "It's nothing!" They chirp, bright as a forest fire.
"It didn't seem like nothing to you?" But it's too late, they're already shambling past you and out the door. "Sif, what-"
"Let's keep going" they say coldly. Odile raises a brow and all you can offer is a shrug.
-.-.-
You're slipping. What happened this loop, and what happened didn't? This is what happens when you keep making edits to the script: everything blurs and everyone messes up their lines. Four pairs of footsteps echo against the frozen stone. Even at your most careless, you have mastered walking these halls in silence. Or maybe, you're not even touching the floor anymore. You're already so disconnected from your body, who's to say you still have one?
Your co-actors are disappointed with your performance. They don't even bother to smother their whispers while you take a moment to yourself in the bathroom. The Housemaiden flinches when you swing the door open. The Fighter can't look you in the eye. The Kid scowls. The Researcher's gaze burns a hole through your skull.
You ignore them all. None of it will matter in the end. And because it doesn't matter, while everyone else prays at the Change God statue, you glare.
-.-.-
The King stands, well, kneels in front of you all. He offers hollow platitudes that Mirabelle parries easily with sharp retorts. The King stops his crying just long enough to say "Wait." At your side, Siffrin stiffens. Even obscured by his hair, you can feel the moment his gaze lands on Sif. A chill travels up your spine, and you step closer to your friend. "You, traveler." His voice warbles with undeserved sorrow. "Do you remember?"
Siffrin's breath hitches. He doesn't say anything. There's an expression on their face you’ve seen only once before, when he woke up after their injury and pleading to see Bonnie: terror. "Sif…?" If not for the way their hands shake you might think the King’s words alone have frozen them in place.
Mira steps in front of Sif, rapier drawn and ready. "He doesn't have to tell you anything!" She snaps, eyes blazing with protective fury.
"Yeah!" Bonnie adds, waving their wok threateningly. "You leave Frin alone!"
This whole time, was Siffrin… afraid? No, that's not right. At least, that's not all of it. No matter the reason, you push those thoughts aside. Protect your friends. Beat the King. Everything else can come after.
-.-.-
Despite your stage fright, everyone pulls through, and the King, once again, disappears. You've never fumbled this part so badly, but every time you looked at the King, all you could see was—
It's fine. It's fine. It's fine it's fine it's fine it'sfineit'sfine.
It's. Fine.
You breathe in, and out.
The ending doesn't play out how it should. Everyone's celebrations are muted compared to before. It's because of you. You can tell.
It doesn't matter.
You go through your usual rounds on the rooftop, but everyone else has gone off script. Odile pushes, but even she doesn't have all the pieces. Bonnie just tells you not to be stupid anymore. Mira looks like she's about to cry when she asks you how you're feeling.
And Isa. Doesn't try to confess. Part of you is relieved you don't have to sit through that for once. Another, more bitter part of you wonders what it is you did, or didn't do, to make him not want you this time. Instead, he just asks you, patient and gentle as ever:
"Is everything okay?" You must make a face, because he keeps going. "It's just, you've had a weird vibe since yesterday, and then the whole thing with the King…"
(You still see it. Every time you blink. You hear—)
"Hey, hey! It's okay, Siffrin!" His hand hovers over your shoulder, just like always. Like a satellite in orbit, simultaneously moving closer and farther from you until—
His hands find your wrists, and gently pry you hands away from your scalp. "Whatever it is, it's going to be okay." His fingers brush against your skin where sleeves don't reach your gloves. It burns. You don't pull away."Okay, Sif?" His smile is nervous but genuine.
You don't trust yourself to answer, so you give a weak nod.
You need to talk to her.
You need this loop to end.
Isabeau doesn't let go when you turn around, so you drag him to the center of the roof where She waits.
It's fine. It's too late for anything to change anyway. You already know your allies can't help you. Might as well let him think he can before you make him forget again.
Her words wash over you, the same as always.
You feel a tug on your stomach.
«««
Back to the stage.
-.-.-
Siffrin moves like he's in a trance as they drag you to the Head Housemaiden. You try to ask him what is he doing, but he doesn't hear you. Not exactly what you had in mind for help, but you won't complain.
Then she starts talking. And it's all.
Wrong.
Back? What does she mean they'll go back? Why doesn't she even notice you standing there? Where did this suffocating pressure come from?
"It's my fault that you have to suffer like this." The Head Housemaiden sobs. "I just hope that one day...
"You might learn to for—
«««
You jump so hard your back crashes against the boulder behind you.
what
the CRAB
just happened?