Chapter Text
You have been here for quite some time, and for that, you are grateful.
You sit on the edge of a stone coffin lined with soft pillows and fabric where Loop laid sleeping, and look up at the stone ceiling of the crypt the two of you have sealed yourselves in.
You wonder how much time has passed outside.
You hope it's been long enough that the both of you are long forgotten.
What is left of your family is here, and you wouldn't trade this place for anything.
You stand up, and you walk around the crypt you have made your home.
Odile had died last.
You walk to the shelf lined with the gems she carried throughout her life, neatly laid out on their own little pillows. She had meticulously organized them herself before giving in to death, keeping families together, and friends close. You have taken the time to memorize the way they laid, just in case they become disorganized, so you can restore it for her.
She has her own gem, here. Two of them, laid out gently on their own darkless cushion that has since been stained with dust and dirt. They are both still attached to a small chain, and you and Loop have both worn them as neck before you were sealed here.
Should you ever leave again, and you are sure you will, the both of you will wear these gems again. For now, though, Odile is safe here for as long as Loop's blood continues to run through your veins.
You dust the gems off best as you can, and move on. She has many other things here- her research notes, her journals, your familytale, her jacket, and more. They need cleaned as well, so you get to work, and move onto the next member of your family once you are done.
Bonbon's death came after hers. It was not a tragic end, none of your family's deaths were in your eyes. They simply couldn't take the loss of their sister before them, and the heartbreak had nearly ended you, as well. The others nearly took you as well, but your final death has not come yet. Time took her, but it will not take you.
Bonbon's and Petro's bodies are not here. They were returned to the ocean from which the Changing Tides came, but their coats are here.
Petro had requested you keep them safe. She trusts you to do so, and so did Bonbon.
You gently pull out the small chests from their spot in the wall, dusting them off. The chests are flat on the top- Petro's has an engraving of an angry seal with a hammer in it's mouth that still makes you chuckle, and Bonbon's has an engraving of a frying pan with a seal jumping out of it.
They're such stupid designs.
You wouldn't trade them for the world.
Carefully, you open the chests to check on the Craft preserving the coats.
. . .
No damage, and the spell is still in tact. You run your hands gently over each skin, though you've long since memorized the feeling of slight, rough fur on them, and long since memorized each dot, each gradient, and every fold of these coats. They're all you have left of them.
You will keep them safe until the end of you, or the end of eternity, like you had promised.
Whichever one comes second.
You close the chests, and put them back. You look around the area- there are crates here of armor Petro had forged for you and your family, her favorite harpoon and fishing rod, and little sculptures she made over the years. There are dozens of recipe books, even of trinkets Bonbon had collected over the years from their travels, the frying pan Bonbon used during the journey you met them on, and their favorite cooking knife.
You wonder if you will wear the armor Petro forged again. She had chosen mostly leather for you, Crafted to her almost impossibly high standards. You say almost, because she had reached those standards herself.
You think it would be nice for her to hold you again, even if she is long gone, but you do not put it on. It feels wrong to wear armor when you do not need it, but should you ever do, Petro's work will keep you safe.
You get up, and continue your rounds around the crypt.
Isa died second.
He had lasted longer than you thought he would, and you are grateful for the time you had with him while he was here.
You pick up the urn, gently wiping away dirt. It's painted in four different art styles- yours, Loop's, Bonbon's, and Petro's. You had painted whatever reminded you of him.
Loop had painted sewing supplies the best they could.
You chose his fangs, and still wear one around your neck. Loop has the other, and their shoulder is still scarred from his bite. Your bite is still there as well.
Bonbon chose his favorite food, and Petro…tried to paint a wolf. That's what he was in the end, after all.
…She was a lot better at carving than she was painting.
You put the urn back, and look to the four smaller ones besides it made for carrying.
You still think his death request was strange.
Neither you nor Loop could remember what your people did with bodies, but he requested you to try, because he wanted to share that piece of your culture. Death is a sacred thing to your homeland, after all.
The two of you did your best, and all you could remember was the idea of carrying a piece of the body. Ashes ended up being the safest way to do so, and now that only you and Loop are left, all of those ashes are now here.
You step back and look at the shelf. One side has another chest you know to be filled with sewing patterns and supplies, and the other has an empty one.
The second one was your decision. You had thought that, should you leave, Isa might appreciate acquiring some sewing patterns from whatever era you wake up in. Loop had agreed. You're sure Isa would too, but he had already passed.
You wonder if the current world still uses some of his work. You wonder if it's in a museum somewhere, and that the world remembers him not for slaying a tyrant, but for gentle and precise hands that hold a needle and thread.
You know it does not matter, because he is dead, and his spirit has long since moved on. He has other things here you take the time to clean, from various hobbies over the years- fiber arts, books on Craft research, books on the few bits of culture from your homeland. There was a brief period of time he became obsessed with golf, even, and you clean off the third place award he had here from a competition.
A stupid thing to keep, really, but you value it because it belonged to him, and you move on once you are done.
You look around at the crypt.
Mira had died first.
A soldier until the end.
She spent four decades after the King's death fighting, making her way across Vaugarde killing the Sadnesses that roamed across the country, and many of it's monsters that stood in the way of progress. She had wanted nothing more than for her people to live in safety, and never fear the monsters that roam in broad daylight.
It was a job that was her undoing, and you thank the stars and the moons that her body was recovered before it was consumed.
Long ago, you and Loop had discussed the idea of somewhere to sleep after everyone had left you. You both had thought it a peaceful idea, but had nowhere to truly go. You talked, and she heard.
Mira had requested that if you were to sleep somewhere, to build a place for yourself underneath her burial tree. She had said that she hopes it would make both of you feel safe, if you were within her roots, and that you could both dream in peace.
She wanted to shield you, one last time.
…
She was right, and here, you have never felt more safe within these stone brick walls.
When construction on the crypt had started years after her death, you had watched it happened alongside everyone else, though only you, Loop, and Odile lived to see it's completion. You had all expected to find her corpse within the roots of her tree. She was buried underneath a wild plum tree, so her name would not be forgotten, but honored.
All you had found was a bundle of roots where she was laid.
Euphrasie had called it a wonderful thing, because it meant she was accepted by the land itself, and taken into it.
You had chosen to accept this, because it meant Mira had gotten what she wanted. She was a part of Change, until this forest is no more. You are not worried abut the forest's death, Euphrasie will not allow it to perish so long as you are here.
Now, Mira's roots are starting to break through the stone bricks, but you find you are not worried about the structure of this place. You do not think Mira would let it collapse, and trust her judgment in wrapping the walls in herself. Perhaps she knows something you do not about how it is made, but then again, she was there for it's construction.
In a way, it feels like her arms are around you again.
…
The things you would give for one more hug from her.
There's a section of wall in here for her as well, and you go to it. You pick up her rapier and shield, and clean them off. You dust off the entire series of the Cursing of Chateau Castle, clean her Change God statue, wipe off the books she had written, and put them gently back in their places.
You wish you had more of her, but Mira had touched so many lives, and you could not deny them a memory of her. You take what you can get.
You will preserve what it here until the end of eternity, or the end of you.
It is still whichever one comes second.
You return to Loop, as you always do, and always will.
They are curled up on their side, a blanket Isa had sewed long ago wrapped around them to keep them warm. Their antlers have grown long, and their expression is one of peace.
It is an expression that has not changed since they went to sleep.
Good.
You gently pick up their wrist, and hold their hand. Their pulse is steady, and stronger than before.
Loop will not wake until the door to your home is opened. The sleep they are in is one they chose themselves, and it is not a decision that will be regretted. This is what the both of you have wanted for a long time, and you are grateful for the chance to rest.
You had told Euphrasie to wake the two of you should Vaugarde need you again, but you do not think it will for quite some time. You hope it will not for quite some time.
You want nothing more than to return to sleep.
…
In truth, you care very little about Vaugarde, but this is the country your family was from, so you will defend it to the end.
You would be in the same enchanted sleep as Loop, but there is iron in them still, so your fangs pierce their skin and you drink quietly.
You wake up every couple of years or so. Loop cannot feel pain like this, but they can die, so you preserve them like everyone else. Your oath to stay by their side until eternity cannot be broken even by the Universe, and the iron shard turns a little smaller with each passing decade. You will do what you can to help them survive.
…
You can see their dreams in their blood now.
They are wonderful things that you do not dare to even try and wake them from, and you find you do not miss them. They are right here, after all. You can hear their voice in their blood, and you may see their face as you please.
Still, you are surprised to find that is enough for you. It has always been enough for you to simply look at them.
The dreams are of your family. Of meeting, of arguments, of laughter and games. Of a journey that you had went on, of hunting, of death, of bonds forged in blood, tears, and time.
They are of after death repeated again and again, and new chances once it was over. Of praises given to your family for granting freedom from ice, of travels from outside this country to escape it, and returning to it as well to aid in restoration. Of celebrations, of recipes, of forging, of sewing, of research, and of funerals.
Of a crypt constructed underneath a wild plum tree, of two bodies returned to sea, and of two given to fire, and a promise made.
And the dreams restart once more, with a hunt through a wild place where the two of you had first met.
It is nice to be able to see your family's faces again, and you lift yourself from Loop's wrist, and seal the wound before tucking them back into the blanket. You will join them again in sleep soon, but right now, you look around at the little corner you and Loop share.
Your knives and Loop's fan are here, as well as wooden carvings of your family so you do not forget them. There are star charts rolled up in a basket, still pristine, and moon and star ornaments hang from the ceiling. Loop had preserved many of their accessories- stars, animals, and tiny, dulled weapons. Your cloaks are both neatly stored in their own chest, along with a handful of outfits ready to go when the crypt is opened again.
You have little desire to wear anything not touched by Isa's hands, even your hat, sat on it's own stand, has been modified by him to add a veil.
Just in case, he said, You get sunburns a lot, Sif.
…
On a stand sat six bonding earrings, two of a moon trapped in a ribcage, two of stars with three slashes through them, and two of a tiny spool of thread pierced through with a needle. Sat next to the stand were six pins in a small basket- two rounded, two with stars, two rectangular in shape.
You had done your best to share what little you had of your people.
You are sure the world has long forgotten about the place you came from, but you've found you stopped thinking of it as home a long time ago.
This place is your home, after all. You are surrounded by the memories of your family, and you find that you belong here greater than you ever belonged anywhere else.
You were always meant to be here, and you are grateful that this is where the Universe has led you.
You crawl into the coffin besides Loop, laying atop the blanket and turning to look at their sleeping face.
Someone with a heartbeat might find something like this tragic, to have never spoken to the one you love in years, that you stand guard for them and the dead, but you find that you do not mind. They are all here, after all, and you take a quiet pride in being the one they trust to stand guard for eternity.
Death is in your nature, even if that death is not your own.
You pull the lid of the coffin back over it, and close your eyes to sleep for another handful of years before you continue your patrol.
✧₊˚. ⋆ ✧ ⋆ .˚₊✧
You wake.
You check on everyone, and drink.
You sleep.
✧₊˚. ⋆ ✧ ⋆ .˚₊✧
You wake.
You check on everyone, and drink.
You sleep.
✧₊˚. ⋆ ✧ ⋆ .˚₊✧
You wake.
You check on everyone, and drink.
You sleep.
✧₊˚. ⋆ ✧ ⋆ .˚₊✧
You do not know how many times you have done this when you wake up to happy humming, but Loop has not awakened. The doors are still sealed, and the sound is familiar in a way you cannot place.
You lift off the lid and the humming stops, and you sit up from your living grave.
Someone you have not seen in centuries calls a name that you haven't heard in centuries.
That name is yours.
"Siffrin!"
Sitting on the floor is someone who, like you, does not bear a heartbeat. She sits with a book in her lap that you have taken careful precautions to preserve in her memory.
She is made of the same flowers, leaves, and wood as the plum tree that still hides your home, and she is smiling at you.
"Mira." Had you a heartbeat, you are sure it would leap out of your chest as you move to get out of your coffin.
She hops up, her bright leaves rustling with movement. You recognize the wood grain on her face as the same one as the roots that over took her body so long ago. The same ones that keep these walls stable, and her roots do not touch what you are preserving of your family.
They're her family, too, after all, and you stumble towards her with nothing but trust in your heart.
She looks how she did the day you met her, and she walks towards you to wrap you in a hug.
After all this time, she is holding you again.
You hold on, wrapping her in your wings, and the neither of you say anything for some time.
She doesn't have a heartbeat, and the both of you are now a little closer than before.
She asks you how long it's been.
You say that don't know.
She thanks you for trusting her with your safety.
You smile, only because you know you would trust no one else.
…
…
…
You ask her if she regrets her death.
She asks if the child she saved lived to adulthood.
They did.
"I'm happy with how I died."
Then, she thanks you for storing her favorite book series here, and you find yourself bursting out into laughter.
She pouts, and the two of you let go of each other, but not for the last time.
Mira walks with you through your patrol, and she asks how everyone had passed. You tell her the truth, and she mourns quietly with you, but rejoices in learning that they, too, trusted her with what was left of them. That they lived full lives, even if hers was cut short.
She promises she will continue to shield everyone in death, just as she did in life.
You trust her with your death, too, if it comes before eternity.
You are awake longer this time. Mira says that this crypt has been here for 342 winters, and you thank the forest for keeping track for you. It is less time than you thought it would've been, but that is alright.
Mira travels through her roots to see the sky eventually, and you return to sleep, knowing she'll stand vigil in your place.
When you wake up again, she is still here, and you find yourself weeping over the knowledge that her return was not a dream. That she is real, and she is here with you again, and that like you, she does not bear a heartbeat.
You are not alone in death, and that is comforting in words you cannot name.
She is still not eternal, but she is here for longer than a human lifespan, and you thank the very Universe itself for that.
You thank Change for that as well, for letting her turn into something else, so you may be together again.
The two of you sometimes spend weeks together, simply leaned against one another. Sometimes with a book, sometimes with nothing, sometimes talking, sometimes silent.
Someone with a heartbeat might find it boring, might find it it's own type of torture, to sit and do nothing for days on end, but you are not a rotting thing. You are something designed to last forever, and you learn that these long periods of rest and waking are part of your nature.
A grave has always been part of your nature, and graves are silent, and still, like the two of you often are.
You are comforted by her presence, and she is comforted by yours.
You tell Mira that you are surprised she is not more restless. She used to be human, and used to be constantly moving. She was not someone who could stay still for very long before, but you suppose trees don't exactly move.
She laughs at you, and tells you that is she is not stagnant. She is always moving in some capacity. Besides, she enjoys sitting here with you for weeks on a time as she continues to grow.
"I'm expanding my root system!" She explains, and you learn that she is far more than a single tree.
She is a forest these days. She is connecting herself with the land above, through wood and mycelium, and that she is learning of the outside world.
She tells that she had talked to Euphrasie again with the help of the mycelium, and was able to ask Euphrasie if it was possible to extend the life of her tree. She was told to expand herself, to sprout in other places, and become a forest of flowering plum trees.
Euphrasie has told her that she looks forward to seeing how Mira grows.
You ask her why she wishes to expand her lifespan.
"I want to be here when Loop wakes up!"
You smile, and nuzzle your face between her wooden shoulder and flowery hair, and lay there for some time. She will be by your side for a very long time, and you are safe sleeping within her roots.
Some time later, you lift yourself up from Loop's side to the sound of whining.
Mira is pacing, whining all the while, so you ask her what's wrong.
…
She tells you she might have expanded a bit too much, and now some of the local cities are treating her like a minor god. That plum flowers have become a symbol of peaceful death, and that they are leaving offerings for her now at her trees.
They have named her Gravekeeper.
She is whining less about the offerings, and more about the name.
"It's not a graaaaave!!"
You question why they named her that.
She tells you that no one remembers that this is where your party is laid, they only know that there is a crypt inside this forest. They think whatever is inside is dead, and this is a grave, but they don't remember for who. She admits that it's kind of a grave, but you and Loop are alive…
Well, Loop is alive, you died long before you met her.
Still, you find yourself breathing in relief at the knowledge that your family has been forgotten, and that no one will come to disturb their rest.
She wonders if they remember the party that killed the King at all, and you hope they have completely forgotten about your journey. She says she will try to find out, and you ask her not to tell you what she finds.
You are safe here, and the world has forgotten where you lay, save for the few who were there when this country was encased in ice.
She also says she talked to Euphrasie, about what to do about the offerings, only to be laughed at and patted on the head.
You are only a little ashamed to say that you laughed as well. Just a little.
It has been 724 winters since you were sealed in here, according to the forest, and you soon return to your sleep.
Next time you wake, it is because Mira wakes you.
She tells you that Euphrasie is dying, and that Mira is almost done spreading her roots across the country to take Euphrasie's place.
Trees do not live forever, after all, and Euphrasie's time is almost up.
You do not mind the idea of Mira taking Euphrasie's old role of bearing wishes, simply because you know Mira will still be here, but you find yourself mourning Euphrasie alongside Mira. You did not speak to her much compared to Mira and Loop, but she was a friend all the same.
Euphrasie comes to visit, slipping in between the roots in the crypt when Mira allows, and leaves the door intact so Loop's dreams are not interrupted. The country is in no danger, after all, and she does not desire to open the crypt before it is time.
You are grateful for the chance to say goodbye to her, and she leaves you and Loop with a gift. A pair of pendants carved from the trunk of her tree. You recognize the symbol on them as one of strength and authority, and know that Euphrasie has bore this symbol as long as she has been a being of root and leaf, and now it is yours.
"For good luck, when you are needed again!" Euphrasie says, and you thank her for them. You are sure that you will need it, and know this is not a thing to be taken lightly. Mira will bear this symbol soon as well.
She places a gentle kiss on Loop's forehead before she leaves, and you watch a small ball of light form where the two touch, and you know they are meeting in Loop's dream one more time for a goodbye.
You do not interrupt. You do not dare to get between the two, and do not worry for Loop's safety with her.
When she pulls away, Loop still has not stirred, and she stares at them with a solemn expression before leaving to accept her second death at the end of a long and heavy life.
You will not see her again, and you mourn.
The forest has told Mira it has been 1343 winters.
You spend some time awake with Mira for a while, mourning for the last connection you had to a frozen time, before she has to take the body she uses to speak elsewhere. There is work for her to do, and you go back to sleep in her roots.
She is always there when you wake up. You wonder why, when she has so many responsibilities now that requires a body with a face, though you're more curious how she always manages to know when you wake up.
"Well, of course I do! I learned your schedule a while ago, so I! Make sure! To be here!!! …It feels wrong, to let you wake up alone."
You are grateful for her company, and even now, you continue to do your rounds on the crypt. The stone brick is long gone, and all is encased in roots, save for the still-sealed door.
Time will not take this place, and you always make sure to refresh the Craft preserving your family when it starts to wane. Mira has learned to do the same, and her roots will always continue to be the walls, ceiling and floor, until she is no more.
You do your patrol, and return to sleep.
✧₊˚. ⋆ ✧ ⋆ .˚₊✧
You wake.
You preserve what you love.
You spend time with Mira and Loop. One awake, one not.
You sleep.
✧₊˚. ⋆ ✧ ⋆ .˚₊✧
You wake.
You preserve what you love.
You spend time with Mira and Loop. One awake, one not.
You sleep.
✧₊˚. ⋆ ✧ ⋆ .˚₊✧
You wake.
You preserve what you love.
You spend time with Mira and Loop. One awake, one not.
You sleep.
✧₊˚. ⋆ ✧ ⋆ .˚₊✧
It is 1997 winters when Mira wakes you, and she tells you something is stirring underneath Vaugarde. She tells that Change itself has spoken, and in three years, it will awaken. You think of a pendant you were gifted long ago, and a promise you made long before that.
You are not afraid of what's to come, and you are looking forward to seeing for yourself how Vaugarde has Changed.
…She also tells you that Change came out with a prophecy of its defeat, and that she's pretty sure it involves you two, so she should probably teach you modern Vaugardian before the crypt gets opened by whoever Change's chosen one is this generation. Because they're doing something for once about a country wide disaster.
Shocking, even to her.
She also tells you that you will be required to do the full Trials for the Orbs because of this.
You will not admit to the fact you ran out of curse words and started making up new ones.
She tells you people say lobster instead of crab now, and add that to the list.