Chapter Text
It's been a little while since you finally got back to Dormont from Bambouche, which is a long story in of itself. You and your family defeated The King, reunited Bonnie with their sister, returned color to the world, and went on your own separate ways while promising to stay in touch.
Siffrin, who revealed themself to have gotten stuck in some time loops and Changed into Loop, was staying in Bambouche with Bonnie and Pétronille. Isabeau, after visiting Jouvente, realized he'd outgrown his hometown and decided to also stay in Bambouche. Madame Odile wanted to continue exploring the culture of Vaugarde and was on her own little road trip.
And you! Mirabelle, Blessed One and Savior of Vaugarde! You... went back to Dormont. And went back to the House.
Okay! That sounds kind of lame, but listen! You'd done a lot of travelling over the past year or two. Sightseeing and making friends was fun and exciting, but after all of those events, you were ready to take it easy for a while. Which is fine! It's perfectly normal to need a break after a cross-country adventure. As long as you got back on your feet and went back to normal.
Which. You haven't... really been doing.
Listen! Again! Collecting the orbs and defeating The King and travelling to Bambouche and back had been very emotionally charged and full of turmoil. And you'd done it all without your meds! That was an achievement. A very tiring and mentally-altering achievement which made it a little difficult to focus when you needed to.
Like right now. You were cutting veggies to help make lunch, like you always did before The King. The cat's paw rhyme circled through your mind as you chopped the carrots. Today was stew day, seeing as winter had finally rolled in and it was pretty cold. Luckily, the gardening room functioned as a sort of greenhouse, so the House wasn't short of essentials.
Chop, chop, chop... The carrots are being Changed into nice little disk shapes, which should cook evenly in the stew. You weren't entirely sure what else was going in there, though you saw Marisol adding some broth to start it off earlier.
Marisol. The housemaiden that'd started before you and taught you a lot of what you know now. Sewing, chores, and how to cut veggies like you were doing right now! It'd really hurt to see her frozen in the House back then, but you were super grateful she was here now. It was nice to have someone familiar to lean on, especially one who was familiar with you leaning on them.
"Mirabelle?" Marisol calls over her shoulder. "I'm just about ready for those carrots now."
You hadn't expected her voice, and so the sudden noise causes you to flinch. "Ah-" A glance at your finger reveals a small spot of red on one of your knuckles. You must've accidentally cut yourself in your surprise.
Marisol, as always, goes and fetches the kitchen's first aid kit. She'd long since passed the stage of lecturing you relentlessly to be more careful in favor of quietly disinfecting and bandaging your cut just a smidgen too harshly. Paired with lecturing. You don't think you'll ever fully escape it.
"I taught you how to cut vegetables specifically so this would stop happening," she huffs, dabbing the alcohol pad against your ring finger. "You need to pay more attention."
The floor is a light grey. That's one thing that hadn't changed about the House; it was still largely monochrome even after the return of color to the world. "I'm sorry, Marisol."
"Don't be sorry." She sticks the bandage right over the small wound, pressing down the adhesive-coated parts a bit more than necessary. "Be better."
You nod, expression one of firmness. You would do better. "Right."
The sound of a boiling stew finally diverts her attention from you. Marisol releases your hand to grab the cutting board with the carrot bits on it, scraping the orange pieces into the large pot. You're thankful no blood made it on to the veggies, or else you'd have needed to throw those away and start all over.
Marisol continues to order you around the kitchen. You fetch spices, dice herbs, and deliver ingredients to her to be added to the stew. She really doesn't mess around with things that involve others, you've found out. And this stew is for the whole House!
Soon enough, you're helping to ladle servings into the House's many, many bowls. The semesterly ceramics class always has a unit centered around making bowls or bowl-like objects, and most of them end up donated to the very place in which they were made. There's no new ones at the moment since it's a little too cold to work with clay, but you have a few favorites in the cupboards that you recognize. One of them is in your hands right now: a flatter bowl with a wobbly rim, glazed a soft green color. On the inside is a little design of the Change God, holding a spoon and smiling. It always made you happy to look at.
Currently, the Change God is covered up by a decent helping of stew. You whisk the bowl up off the counter, striding out of the kitchen and making your way to the dining area. Housemaidens who've helped prepare the meals tend to eat last as serving is part of the work, but since this chore is on a weekly rotation, no one's too upset by it. Plus, you may or may not have snuck a few carrot pieces earlier. You couldn't help it; they looked so tasty!
Only a few more bowls to pass out, and then you could finally sit down and eat. Well, maybe not just eat--the Head Housemaiden had recommended you a book to read that supposedly held some good advice for anxiety, and you wanted to give it a try despite not having too much time in your schedule. Maybe you could read it while eating? Or stay up a bit late-
"Oof!" You collide with someone, causing you to drop the bowl, and "Oh, no!"
It's shattered against the floor, the happy little Change God design in the middle broken in three. The stew is spread out in a wide yet shallow puddle, encircling the shards of pottery that'd been flung out.
Aah, the bowl! The bowl was broken! And the stew- it was all over the floor, and it was no good now and that was a slipping hazard, you had to go clean it and pick up all the pieces of the dish so no one accidentally hurts themself and that's gonna make you late for your your watercolors class after lunch-
"Mirabelle," the person's voice scolds. They're already bending down to start picking up the shards. "Why weren't you looking at where you were going?"
Oh. It's Claude. You feel a little less bad for running into them now. Still! The bowl! "Sorry! Sorry..." You also crouch down to help clean up the mess.
"Really, princess, you can't expect everyone to just conform to whatever you're doing." Claude is already depositing the shards in the nearest trash bin. You open your mouth to stop them--maybe you could've repaired the bowl had you tried hard enough; it has an effigy of the Change God on it, so it shouldn't go in the trash--but it's too late. You sigh quietly. If only you'd had more time to speak up...
"I don't- I don't expect that, Claude." You deposit your own collected shards into the trash, reminding yourself that something breaking is a part of Change. "I really was just being clumsy. I'm sorry."
"And there you go with the apologizing." Somehow, Claude had already gotten a roll of paper towels for you. You accept them with a small nod. "Just clean that up. I'm sure no one will notice; Marisol always makes extra food for no good reason."
Again, you open your mouth to tell Claude that extra food was never bad, but they're already striding off.
You look at the puddle of stew on the floor. It still needs cleaning.
You sigh, rip off a few paper towels from the roll, and get to work.
As predicted, you're late to your watercolors class. You'd at least managed to cram some hastily made toast into your mouth before sprinting your way to the classroom.
You stumble your way just as the instructor is about to begin speaking. Everyone else who's already seated turns to look at you. Your already racing heart gallops in your chest like a horse who just heard the sound of a bag crinkling. They're all looking at you. You want to shrink into nothing and disappear.
"Mirabelle," the instructor notes with mild surprise, going back to their desk in order to check your name off on the attendance sheet. You duck your head and quickly make your way to your seat, trying your very best to ignore the looks of everyone else in this course.
Today was supposed to be about painting something that either doesn't exist or you've never seen. Really, it was just an exercise to gauge everyone's creativity levels, but it still sounded fun. There's House-supplied easels and canvases from the classes earlier this year on woodwork and canvas-making which you eagerly make use of. You have your own watercolors, though; you'd heard once that painting was a good way to reduce stress or anxiety. It never worked--you got worried about messing it up somehow--but it was still nice to make things.
Your mind is a little empty on ideas. You still have to read that book the Head Housemaiden recommended, you agreed to help that one stylish girl that's in a lot of your classes sort out her closet after this, and being on cooking duty meant you had to help make dinner as well.
Paint something that doesn't exist... Well, that bowl from earlier doesn't exist anymore, does it? It'd been your favorite; maybe painting it will help you feel a bit better. Picking up a pencil, you sketch out the general shape of what it'd looked like. A little Change God at the bottom, with the walls coming up around it to form the dish...
There! It was just a simple green color, so maybe you can focus a bit more on shading this class. A quick wash with wide strokes of your brush dipped in the color fills in the bowl. You let a bit of the green pigment gather around one edge of the object to deepen the hue, grabbing your pencil to begin cross-hatching some shadows in.
"What'cha makin'?" a housemaiden next to you asks, peeking over your shoulder.
"Just- just a bowl," you stammer out, a line you were drawing going a bit squiggly at the sudden social interaction. "I was carrying it earlier, but I dropped it and it broke." You pull back a fraction to get a good look at the grander scheme of your art. "I figured--well, it doesn't exist anymore, so it should be okay to paint, yeah?"
The housemaiden's brows furrow. "I dunno, Mirabelle. Breaking it means it Changed irreversibly, you know? Painting it pre-Change feels a bit odd." Their head tilts. "And every depiction of the Change God should be different. You're just making the same one again."
"Oh!" Oh, Change, they're right. No, this painting isn't very good at all. You sigh. "I suppose so..."
"It's okay." The housemaiden pats you on the shoulder. "You can just pitch it once class ends. Leave the past in the past, yeah?"
You open your mouth to reply, but the distant bells of the clocktower ring out over Dormont. Class is over. Everyone is packing up their stuff and leaving, including the housemaiden you'd just been talking to.
You didn't even get to finish your painting. If only you had more time...
As your very full schedule dictated, you helped the Stylish One organize her very, very expansive closet. Who knew one could have that many gowns? You also managed to catch her name since you'd never had the chance before: Francine!
Francine was a pretty hardcore Change believer. Sure, you were a housemaiden rumored to be blessed by the Change God themself, but Francine was really into it.
"What was it like, being blessed by Change themself?" she asks you as you fold one of her very pretty red blouses. "Did you see them? Hear anything?"
Ah. Right. People still believed you'd been blessed by the Change God in order to save Vaugarde. It's been a while since that rumor started, and even though Euphrasie had been free to tell the truth to everyone, she wanted you to do it yourself. And you just. Hadn't found the strength for it yet.
Francine must notice the way your face scrunches up, because she pauses putting one of her orange gowns on a hanger to focus on you. "Was that too much to ask? I know it happened during a stressful time-"
"No! No, it's fine." You try your best to soothe her worries. Francine hadn't meant to take a dig at that specific stressful thing. It just came up on its own. Maybe you should take a page out of Loop's book and actually talk about it with someone. "I just... Well, I wasn't- um." You swallow dryly, fidgeting with the bottom hem of the blouse. "I wasn't blessed by the Change God."
Even Francine's animated figurine of said God seems to fall still and silent in the wake of your admission.
"...But you were made immune to getting frozen," Francine eventually manages to say. Shock rends her voice slower and higher pitched. "How could that have not been Change?"
"It was the Head Housemaiden," you explain. "She- she couldn't defeat The King, but she had enough time to save one person. I-" It's hard to swallow; your throat feels constricted. "I was closest to the exit."
Francine is trying her best to not let her face crumple. You knew you were special to her and Change even more so, but people deserved to know the truth, right?
"That's... The Change God still could've helped out, right?" she tries her best to rationalize. "I mean, you ended up being the one chosen out of everyone else. And you managed to save all of Vaugarde!"
You try to laugh, but it comes out weak. "Yeah, I guess so."
But you know better. Not once in that entire journey had you felt the presence of the Change God except for when Loop got the knifekey. And that wasn't even directed specifically towards you--it fell in their hands.
Had that even been Change? Who knows what higher power Loop was praying to? Or Odile? It could've been the Expressions or the Universe or anything! The Change God was notoriously lazy, after all. Had you ever really felt their presence? How much of saving the world was your work, and how much of it was them? Did... did Change even care about you?
Francine hands you another blouse to fold. It's the same green as that broken bowl from earlier. "I think this one's pretty, don't you?"
You swallow down the lump in your throat, ignoring the clamminess of your palms. "Y- Yeah. It looks nice."