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“–it all makes sense, doesn’t it. . . ?” You sank into your cloak, trying to muffle your misery.
But just as they always did, Loop knew you better than you gave them credit for. Loop sighed, deeply, reclining back on their root perch, and gave you a look. “It does.” Loop admitted. “You wished so badly to stay for them, you ended up trapping yourself in a time loop you can never leave.”
“It explains why I don’t have to die to loop.” You added, feeling pain squeeze your heart that you had needed Loop to jump to an extreme to prove it to you. “Or. . . or why the King winning doesn’t reset it.”
“Because there’s always hope, isn’t there?” Loop agreed. “You can all run away and live a reclusive life with each other in the dying embers of Vaugarde. Or maybe the King will keep you all as pets. The only thing that truly leaves you without hope is dying. . .”
“Or my friends hating me.”
“Yes, Stardust. Or your friends hating you.” Loop nodded, but their voice twisted with bitterness. “Of course this is your fault. You just had to make a selfish wish, didn’t you? You’re just as bad as the King.”
Don’t say that, you wanted to yell at them, but. They weren’t wrong. The same thought had been circling in your mind since the previous loop, when you finally read that Wish Craft book and everything clicked into place.
The Universe was not cruel. It simply leads. But a wish born of wicked desire–
You sank further into yourself. You wanted to fall through the root, the grass, the dirt, the rocks, down and down until you were adrift in nothingness.
You do not want to be here anymore.
“Well, then.” Loop continued, voice hard. “We both know fulfilling your blinding wish isn’t going to work. After all, the easiest way to fulfill it is to trap you in time for an eternity. If it was up to them, they would never stay with you.”
You wanted to cry, but as always, your eye remains painfully dry.
“So,” they sneered, “What are you going to do about it?”
. . .
. . . you were going to have to cancel out your wish with another.
It was the only way.
(>>>>>>>)
When Isabeau first spotted the mysterious stranger in the bar, it was nothing more than a glimpse of darkless fabric that caught his eye. Nothing special about it, except that it was so hauntingly bright, a shade he didn’t recognize but felt familiar all the same, that he found himself looking at who it belonged to.
It was an unusual looking person with pale skin, their cloak and hat the same brilliant shade of darkless. The only break up in their design was lightless gloves and an eyepatch covering the side of their face closest to you. The design felt familiar, somehow. Isabeau had probably seen it in a catalog or something.
Lightless heels also peeked out from underneath their poncho, but even that had a bright, pale design on the heel.
They had a glass of something fruity raised to their lips, a silver coin rolling over their fingers. They looked bored, tired. They ignored everything going on around them, narrowed in on nothing.
. . .
Isabeau wasn’t one for approaching strangers in bars.
So he didn’t!
But there was something pulling on his subconscious enough that even though he tried not to, he tried to sneak looks across the bar back at the stranger. He must’ve been doing it too much, because eventually he looked up and met the stranger’s eye.
The stranger looked. . . terrified. Like Isabeau had killed their pet puppy in front of them and was coming for their cat next.
Isabeau risked a look over his shoulder, just to confirm the stranger was looking at him and not some unseen threat, but when he looked back the stranger was gone.
. . . huh.
Some part of Isabeau wanted to chase them down and make sure they were okay, but the more sensible part of him calmed him down. After all, they had probably just been one of the last remnants of the Kingsmen. A henchman of a henchman, maybe. A kingsmensmen.
Whatever. They bore no threat now that they were incapable of controlling the Sadnesses.
Isabeau enjoyed the rest of his drink. By the time he found Odile and they paid their tab, the stranger was long since out of their mind.
(>>>)
Despite being a cloudy and overcast day, Mirabelle found herself enjoying the stalls outside in the village’s farmer market. As autumn crept upon them, they needed more supplies. Coats they had never bothered to pack, maybe umbrellas…
While Odile and Isabeau handled that, Mirabelle collected fruit she may need for their journey.
When the first droplets of rain began to fall, Mirabelle sighed and removed her shawl to clasp over her head and protect herself from getting too wet and continued to shop. She wished she had a hat with a wide and firm brim. A rare style in Vaugarde, but she had seen one recently, she was certain of it.
Not that it mattered. She was almost done shopping, anyway, and she was sure her friends had collected some good supplies.
“Oh, you don’t have to pay for that.” A kindly old lady said when Mirabelle clumsily opened her purse to pull out the required coin. “Anything for a Saviour of Vaugarde!”
Mirabelle felt her cheeks darken. She was used to praises and offers of heavily discounted favours, but usually those came when her ribbon and curls were on full display. She was surprised to be recognized like this.
“I never forget a face,” the lady continued, “even if I’ve never met it. Please, take as much as you want.”
“Oh, just this is fine, thank you.” Mirabelle murmured, wincing slightly. Odile and Isabeau had managed to convince her to accept free offers from time to time, and the papaya was rather expensive… Still, best to be frugal. They didn’t need to pack more for no good reason.
“Does your friend want something?” The lady asked.
Mirabelle frowned, turning around to see who the lady was referring to.
A figure clothed in darkless warm clothes stood a few steps away, frowning past her at the stall. When she turned, they glanced at her face. They didn’t even do a double take, keeping their eye plastered on her, expression stretching in what Mirabelle could only describe as horror.
After a few seconds, they turned and walked away, somehow managing to disappear into a walking group of people and fading in with the darker shaded clothes.
Mirabelle tried to find them again, and then turned back to the lady. “No, sorry, I don’t know who that was. Thank you for helping!”
“Oh, but, they. . .?” The lady blinked, and then smiled at Mirabelle. “You’re very welcome! You have a good day, you hear?”
Mirabelle nodded and continued on her way.
It wasn’t until she was at the next stall that a thought occurred to her.
. . .the stranger had the hat she wanted.
. . .
Mirabelle. . . didn’t think about it.
She had things to buy.
(>>>)
Odile was shaking out her jacket, finally having the chance to clean it. Pens and scraps of paper she didn’t remember hoarding spilled onto the warm comforter of her bed. A pair of opaque glasses she had gotten from the House – she thought, but she couldn’t remember when – clattered out as well.
She would have to organize them later. Find out if they were actually useful to keep or if it was just a strange combination of objects she didn’t actually need. She didn’t like collecting useless things, and yet still found herself weighed down by them.
For example, why did she have a random chunk of wood in her pocket?
Did Boniface–
Odile’s thoughts faltered the moment her fingers touched the wood. The shape felt deliberate. Like a skilled crafter had shaped the wood in this specific way, had cut each knot with ease, and–
Odile turned the wood around in her hands.
It was. . .
crude?
Professional, certainly, but it wasn’t completely realistic. Of course it wasn’t. It was a piece of wood that easily fit in her hand, small enough that she hadn’t noticed its weight in her pocket for– a long, long time.
She couldn’t remember ever getting it.
But it was most certainly her own face looking back at her. Those bangs. That bun. The familiar jacket with the very small details of the diamond pattern etched out. Painted over with a thin layer of glaze. Her shoes. The small bulge out of her upper face in the relative shape of her glasses. A book in her hands.
It felt familiar.
Precious.
Like someone near and dear to her had made it, crafted it specifically for her as a challenge, as a favour. She loved it, but her heart felt full of sorrow at the same time. It was a reminder of something.
Something that she couldn’t. . .
Her head hurt.
She looked down at her hands.
She was holding a very nice sculpture. Craved to be her likeness. Someone in the party must’ve made it or commissioned it for her.
She’d have to figure out who, so she could thank them properly or perhaps plan her own surprise.
Funny. She didn’t think anyone in the party carved.
(>>>)
Bonnie wasn’t stupid.
They knew they weren’t. They had been told by teachers and their sister and their friends that they were pretty smart for a kid. Of course, they still were a kid, so there were some things they weren’t included in, some conversations kept hidden.
They still weren’t allowed to shop at the market alone, they knew that.
It was why, when they looked up and found Belle and Nille gone, they started to panic just a little. They knew the instructions. Stay put so their friends could find them again, don’t move from this spot.
And they were going to, honest, but they saw the darkless fabric creasing and blowing in the wind, and there was a jolt in their heart. Something they couldn’t describe. It felt like seeing their sister again.
It wasn’t their sister, of course not, she didn’t wear stuff like that, but Bonnie found themselves jerking forward anyway, running and tripping over themselves.
They buried themselves straight into the fabric, wrapping their arms around them. “There you are!” Bonnie grumbled, squeezing tight. “You’ve been gone for forever, where have you been?!”
“Wh–? What?”
Bonnie’s thoughts skipped.
. . . that wasn’t Belle.
They pulled back, and looked at the person they were holding.
They. . . weren’t anyone Bonnie recognized.
Did Bonnie really just hug a stranger?! Why’d they do that?!
“Sorry!” Bonnie snapped away, running through it in their mind. Why’d they think this was Belle?
Their cloak looked similar to Belle’s skirt, they guessed, but they were tall enough that they no longer tried to recognize people from their knees. They could look at faces fine, and even if they couldn’t, Belle had dark curls and the stranger had a huge hat. They should’ve seen the difference, and somehow didn’t.
Bonnie shook it off, and hoped the stranger wouldn’t think they were stupid as they explained, “I thought you were my friend.”
“Oh.” They nodded, tucking their chin into their cloak until Bonnie couldn’t see their face at all. “Sorry, do you. . . need help finding them?”
“No!” Bonnie shook their head. “I’m fine! They’re coming back, I’m just angry they aren’t here already, that’s all!”
Too much information to give a stranger. What was wrong with them? They were doing something dangerous right now, and they knew better than to give that out. They should’ve paid more attention before they reached out for the stranger. This is how dumber kids got kidnapped, and they weren’t a dumb kid!
Bonnie took a step away from the stranger.
The stranger didn’t follow, feet glued in place.
. . . despite themself, Bonnie almost wanted to ask if they were okay, but–
“Bonnie!” Belle’s voice, shrieking from the stall she had left them at. Bonnie turned around, and her face relaxed when she found them in the crowd. “Oh, thank Change!” She cried, running towards them.
Nille reached them first, pulling them into a hug. “Sorry, Bonnie!” Nille cried, rubbing her cheek all over the top of their head. Bonnie grumbled and tried to shove away. “We thought you were still with us, or else we never would’ve left you behind! Sorry!”
“It’s fine,” Bonnie huffed at them.
“Why’d you leave the stall?” Belle asked anxiously. “You know better than to wander off! You scared us! What are you doing over here?”
“Sorry,” Bonnie grumbled, ducking their head and hiding under their hat. “I thought they were you.” They turned to point, but when they looked the stranger was gone.
. . .weird.
They offered to help, so Bonnie thought they’d stick around.
But they ran as soon as the rest of the group got here? They probably were a kidnapper, then. That was pretty scary.
Suddenly, Bonnie was really, really thankful Nille and Belle had gotten here when they did. Even though they could probably fight their way out no problem, they didn’t want to be taken away at all!
Nille pulled Bonnie back against her. “. . . okay. Okay, that’s fine, then. That’s fine. I’m so glad you’re okay, Bon.”
. . . yeah. Bonnie was pretty happy, too. They hugged her back and didn’t think about it.
(>>>)
Part of keeping a kid happy was making sure they had toys to play with, and now that the King was defeated, the party was doing a wonderful job at spoiling Bonnie. They needed plenty of toys, figures or statues or something.
The sturdier the better, because while on the road, the last thing any of them wanted was for Bonnie’s toys to break on the journey. They needed to be resilient.
Sometimes, when they visited markets, Isabeau spent his time browsing vendor’s wares until he found something worth spending a bit of coin on. Usually just something nice for another member of the party, but Isabeau would really like to find some actually good toys.
On one particularly sunny day – unusually bright for being so late in autumn – Isabeau found himself at the edge of the market, about to give up, when he spotted another vendor, sitting a few paces away from where a stall would normally go.
There was a blanket spread out across the ground, a few tears in it, but in one solid mid-shade. Sprinkled across the blanket were many light wooden pieces, sparkling slightly with some kind of sealer.
There were all types of creatures carved across the blanket. So many heroes that Isabeau recognized from Vaugardian fables, villains of all kinds. Characters with swords, with shields. A few birds, a couple sheep!
The least impressive things were a few carvings of houses, but they seemed to be more functional than anything else, and that was impressive in of itself!
“These are cute!” Isabeau mused, leaning down to pick up a carving of a dog. “You’re pretty good at this.”
The stranger froze.
Oh? Oh, wait–
Isabeau set down the carving rapidly, leaning down to sit down across from them. “Oh, sorry! I shouldn’t have grabbed it without asking. You’re just! Super good at making these! I mean, did you make these? Are you selling your partner’s carvings for them? Either way, they’re awesome!”
The stranger nodded, keeping their head dipped down. “. . .made them myself.”
“You’re really good at them.” Isabeau encouraged, looking back and forth over the swaths of carvings, divided neatly into categories. Sitting a little ways off from the animals and heroes, he saw a fully carved chess set.
That was incredibly impressive. Madame Odile might like that. The two of them really needed to teach Bonnie how to play at some point, but. . .
That wasn’t the point right now. Right now, Isabeau wanted to find things Bonnie would doubtlessly enjoy. Bonnie liked fish, didn’t they?
Isabeau found two carvings of fish – a salmon and another he didn’t immediately recognize – and another that was of a fisherman. They looked familiar.
Yeah– hadn’t Isabeau seen them in Dormont? Huh! Maybe this was a traveler that had stopped by there recently, or. . . however long ago.
Isabeau gathered up a few more carvings, these time of fable heroes, rolling them over his fingers. They were so cool! The craftsmen ship was just incredible.
“I think I’ll take these,” he said, gesturing at them as he turned to rummage into his coin satchel. “How much are those altogether?”
“Twelve gold coins, but–” The stranger began, and then shook their head. “No! No, wait.”
Isabeau paused, still counting out the payment. “Yeah. . . ? Sorry, are these not for sale–?”
“No! No, they are. But. It’s– it’s for a kid, isn’t it? You have a kid? That’s. . . who you’re buying these for?”
“I.” Isabeau blinked. “Yeah, I am.”
“Okay, um. Hold on.” The stranger reached to the side, picking up a huge chunk of wood beside them, the log as big around as their waist. It had a strap fastened to its lower half, and the stranger reached to pull on the top half.
The lid popped off, and Isabeau took a second to marvel. They had made a log into a box? It wasn’t very thick, either, but not thin enough to just break away from too much pressure.
The stranger held it out towards Isabeau, and he looked in, finding the space filled with carvings, of Sadnesses, of a frog, a big bee, of horses. There were a few generic looking figures inside.
A quarter of the interior was still a solid wooden block, but with a small tug, the stranger revealed that was its own smaller box, filled with accessories. Carved books and gems and swords and ribbons and gloves and a little hat. There were even multiple repeat carvings of tiny Rock–Paper–Scissors hands, like something out of a board game.
They were clearly all made for play. For a kid to have a lot of fun with.
Something in Isabeau’s heart sank. He tried to catch the stranger’s eye, but they didn’t meet his. They kept their face bowed, hidden beneath the wide brim of their hat.
Isabeau swallowed. He couldn’t believe he was butting into this person’s business like this, but it was important, wasn’t it?
After all, Isabeau always prided himself in being able to bond with strangers. It was one of the reasons he had managed to befriend Mirabelle all that time ago.
“You had a kid, didn’t you?” Isabeau asked.
The stranger froze, shoulders sinking up to their theoretical ears. They managed to look smaller than they already did, a hunched ball of sorrow. “. . . yes.”
Oh.
Isabeau’s heart ached, and he wished there was some comfort he could give. Something he could say to take the pain away. All he could settle for was meek platitudes. “I’m. . . so sorry for your loss.”
The stranger shrugged.
“Can I ask what happened?”
“Wasn’t allowed to keep them.” After a pause, the stranger finally lifted their head, smiling brightly. Even with their one missing eye, they looked kind. “It doesn’t matter.”
“. . . are you sure you’re okay with me taking all these carvings?” Isabeau asked. “You worked a long time on them, and if it’s all you have to remember them by, you shouldn’t have to give them up–”
“No! No, please, the kid. . . your kid should get to play with them. If they want to play with them.” The stranger pressed. “It’s probably selfish, but– someone should get the chance.”
“Okay. Well, at least let me pay you–”
The stranger shook their head quickly. “No, no, I. . . for kids, they’re for free.”
“Are you sure–”
“I’m sure.” The stranger said, and back under their hat they ducked, disappearing from view again. “Please. Thank you and– thank you.”
Isabeau thought that, maybe, he should be thanking them. This was unbelievably kind of them, to give up all this stuff for a kid they didn’t know. When he looked down at the stranger, he felt a tug in his heart.
They were done with this conversation.
Of course they were. They didn’t want to engage in this anymore, and why would they? Their kid was gone, and Isabeau was taking the reminders of them away.
“You’re welcome.” Isabeau said quietly, and turned to leave, the box tucked under his arm.
Halfway down the row of stalls, Isabeau realized. He knew that stranger. He had seen them a few weeks back. . . somewhere.
Where had it been?
Somewhere grieving people went, maybe? Somewhere they could hide. . . ?
Isabeau remembered a bar–
and just as quickly
he
forgot
(>)
Bonnie sorted through the cravings Za had given them.
There were so many! All kinds of people and animals and plenty of toys. Some of the toys could even be attached to hands through a tiny wood pin. They were so cool!
“Make sure you keep the accessories in this box here,” Za encouraged before he left, patting the small section in the log. “We don’t want them to break because we were too rough with them!”
“Duh!” Bonnie agreed, frowning up at Za. “Of course I’ll be careful! I'm not dumb!”
“No, no, you’re not,” Za agreed. “Just. . . doesn’t hurt to double check.”
Bonine stuck out their tongue at Za until he left, and then went back to digging. There were so many cool things inside. The log was a little heavy, but Bonnie bet they could convince Za to carry it, or maybe Nille.
One day, Bonnie might be strong enough to carry it, but for now, they were still a kid and could make people carry it for them. The thought made them smile to themselves, feeling just a little evil over it.
At the bottom of the box, Bonnie found four familiar looking figures.
One was of Belle and Za. Really, that made sense, They were famous! They had been traveling the longest, trying to save all of Vaugarde! Of course they already had toys or carvings that looked like them!
The next figure looked like Bonnie themself.
That was a little weirder, especially since nobody let anyone make any crafted pictures of them. They said being famous wasn’t a good thing, which Bonnie didn’t really understand, but they had obeyed and listened, especially when Nille agreed and liked them more when she heard they didn’t let anyone draw Bonnie.
Maybe someone had carved it after they had seen the party in person, then? One of the innkeepers or someone from a market.
Yes! That made sense!
Really, it was pretty cool, honestly
And they now had a toy that looked like themselves and could fit right in with Belle and Za’s! They could go on adventures even when they told them it was too dangerous! They were so excited. That was so cool!
There wasn’t one of Dile.
That really was annoying and weird, really. She was probably more famous than Bonnie themselves were, wasn’t she? She had crafted pictures of herself around. She was everywhere that Bonnie had been!
So shouldn’t she be here?
Instead there was just a weird carving of a person with a long dress or robe or something and a pointy hat. Maybe it was just part of one of the other carving sets. Bonnie went to drop it back in the box but–
. . .
. . .
It belonged with them.
It should stand right there, right in the center, between Za and Belle. Bonnie hadn’t realized that when they first put down the figures, they had left a space just wide enough for another figure to stand.
Yeah! That looked right! They were in order, now! Them and Frin! Them and–
what?
no
there was only supposed to be
nille?
was it supposed to be nille?
no it wasn’t bonnie knew that but their
their head hurt
they
didn’t
know
what
to
think
There was a crunch of boots on the ground, twisting in the dirt. Bonnie blinked heavily at the carved figures, lifting their head up quietly to look up at Dile from where she stood, towering over them. Her lips were thinned in focus, looking down at the collection of carvings.
She probably thought it was stupid that Bonnie had put a random extra carving with them. It didn’t make any sense, did it? Stupid, stupid! Bonnie couldn’t just make up someone new to be there!
It was always the four of them, and now with Nille, too, everything was perfect! Why would Bonnie play make believe? Stupid, childish, awful of them–
“Oh,” Dile said in confusion, picking up the figure of Za. She turned it around in her fingers, rolling the wood between them thoughtfully. “That’s interesting.”
Bonnie curled into themselves.
“I have a carving just like this,” Dile explained, reaching into her pocket. “I was wondering if anyone had the rest of them.”
“Huh?” Bonnie blinked up at her.
Dile set down Za’s carving again, and pulled out a fifth carving out of her pocket, setting it down neatly on Belle’s other side, opposite the weird one. She didn’t even comment that there was an extra person, smiling at Bonnie. “There. Now everyone’s all together again.”
It’s been so long.
Dile frowned suddenly, tilting her head. “Boniface, are you quite alright?”
“I’m fine!” Bonnie promised. “Why? I’m fine! I’m really good! Why would–?”
“You’re crying.”
Oh.
Oh?! Wait, were they? “Sorry,” Bonnie grumbled, reaching up their hand to rapidly scrub at their eyes. “That’s crabbing stupid. Not tryna be a big baby. It was just really nice of Za, I guess.”
“Quite nice of them.” Dile agreed. She set her hand on top of Bonnie’s hat, frowning at them. “If anything’s the matter, you’ll tell me, won’t you? I would love to be able to help you, but I can’t do that unless you talk to me.”
“I will!” Bonnie promised. “Don’t worry, nothing’s the matter! I don’t know why I’m sad or happy or whatever. Just started crying for no reason.”
“That’s happened to me before.” Dile admitted, mouth pulling into a small smile. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if anything else happens, okay, Boniface?”
Bonnie bobbed their head quickly.
Dile stood up, brushing up her jacket, and smiled at them one last time before she walked away from them, leaving them far behind.
Bonnie looked down at the carvings.
The five of them looked happy together.
. . .
They should be happy now. It was so stupid that they weren’t.
So stupid.
(>>>)
“We do have a familytale in our collection,” the librarian said hesitantly, and despite herself, Odile could feel her body perk up, something feeling vaguely like hope flooding her. “But someone else has already asked about it, today.”
. . .
What.
“It’s funny, really, nobody ever asks about this kind of thing!” The librarian giggled as Odile felt every scrap of wishfulness dash itself on the rocks a thousand times over. “And then twice in one day! Funny coincidence, don’t you think?”
Odile breathed in, and out just like she saw Isabeau do sometimes. “Do you have an address for them on file?”
“I don’t, but they didn’t even leave the library!” The librarian said, pointing in the general direction of many, many shelves. “I saw them go somewhere back there. They should still be reading it, so you might be able to catch them!”
Oh, thank the Expressions.
Odile turned away, not even bothering with a thank you – something she would doubtlessly feel guilty about the next time they reminded Boniface about manners – and started to push through the shelves.
She didn’t actually know what this supposed stranger looked like, she suddenly realized, nor did she know what the familytale’s cover looked like.
She really set herself up for failure here, didn’t she?
Odile sighed to herself, preparing herself to head back and have to ask the ditzy librarian more questions, when she broke out of the bookshelves and found herself among a reading nook. There were several tables scattered around, a few window seats, and no people.
Except for a figure dressed in darkless clothing, a book in their lap, bundled into the furthest corner of the room where the only thing illuminating them was a torch high above.
Odile’s eyes fell on the book.
It was completely irregular. With what little she could see of the cover, it looked to be one solid medium shade. The words were all handwritten, type jumbled and irregular.
Interesting.
Odile crossed the short distance over to them, forcing her hands to relax from their frustrated fists. “Hello.” She said.
The stranger looked up casually, like this was the most regular thing in the world. They looked so young. “Is it time to–?” Their words stumbled out the moment they saw her face. They ducked their head, and said nothing.
Ah. They had been waiting for a friend, then.
. . . Odile wondered if they had been close to whoever’s familytale this was. Was she interrupting them? She could come back to this town later. She could convince the party to double back.
She knew she could be brash, insistent.
But she understood grief better than most, she thought. She wasn’t going to take this away from them, not really.
“Here.”
Odile startled as the book was flipped closed and pushed at her. The stranger wasn’t looking at her. All she could see was their hat and their barely shaking hands holding the book.
How did they know–
What other reason was there to approach a stranger in a library?
“No,” Odile said, shaking her head. “Nevermind. I’m sorry for bothering you–”
“Please.” The stranger pressed, holding out the book even more towards her. “I don’t have any connection to it. I’m just– a traveler. I’m not Vaugardian at all. I was just curious, but I don’t have any reason to have it.”
Odile. . . couldn’t help it. She frowned deeply. That seemed oddly on the nose.
But perhaps they were just perceptive? She didn’t know what to do with it. She hesitantly reached out, taking the book into hand. “I. . . thank you for–?”
The stranger stood up as soon as she took it. They snapped up their hand to grab the brim of their hat and pulled it down over their face. “No, it’s all yours.” They hesitated for a second longer, turning slightly towards her, but still not looking up. “. . . I. . . hope you. . . are happy?”
And then they were gone, with a turn of their cloak and hurried steps that vanished, completely fleeing the scene and ducking behind a book shelf.
That was. . . an extremely odd thing to say. And do. Everything about the stranger was odd. Did Odile know them at some point? No, no, some people were just strange. They liked being creepy and mysterious.
Odile sighed, looking thoughtfully down at the familytale. Smoothing her hands over the cover, she had to admit she didn’t care too particularly much about whatever that was.
She had what she wanted. After years, nearly a decade, of toil, she finally had it in her grasp. She had even gotten it without any struggle!
Relief coursed through her, and she felt like a little kid, hugging it to her chest with as much vigor as she could afford. She was so grateful.
Thank the Expressions.
. . . she didn’t know what she was expecting to find in the Familytale, if she’d be disappointed or not. She supposed that would be an adventure in of itself, wouldn’t it be?
(>>>)
As Mirabelle flipped the next page, she found herself falling into her book.
A battle against monsters, fierce and awful, was coming to a head. Half of the cast was missing, having been ensnared in traps on the way up the castle, and the remaining three members were down two, leaving just the hero standing tall.
It wouldn’t be long now until–
“Nails.”
Yelping, Mirabelle startled, looking up until she met the panicky wide-eye staring at her from their spot in front of the town’s courtyard fountain. “Oh!” she said, confused, because why did they look afraid to see her. “Hmrrrgh. . . Thanks, um–?!”
They had already turned away, head dipped, shoulders hunching up to their ears. Mirabelle watched them leave until they turned a corner behind some townhouses, and then felt her heart snap from gratefulness to pure irritation.
Honestly! The audacity!
Who did they think they were, telling her not to bite her nails! She didn’t know them! The audacity!
. . . Mirabelle kept her nails out of her mouth anyway.
She didn’t want them to come back and get annoyed at her for biting them again. Not that it was any of their business, after all.
She looked back at her book.
. . . Mirabelle wondered if the hero felt lonely, there all alone, and not just scared. What if all their friends forgot to come help them?
Would they ever ask for help?
She. . . didn’t know.
( > > > >)
Bonnie had run off ahead. Feet snagging on the ground, excited because they had seen a lizard darting across the rocks.
Their family followed behind them, chatting happily among themselves.
Bonnie leaned down, clasping their hands together desperately. They opened their hands cautiously, squinting at where the lizard should be.
It wasn’t between their hands, already skittering away down the path.
Dumb lizard!
Bonnie stood up again, bursting into a run after it. Maybe they had to be slower? Carefuler! Like a cat!
Bonnie came to a stop a few steps away from the lizard, dropping into a squat. They waddled forward, hands at the ready, prepared to grab and nab at a second’s notice.
They were almost upon the lizard when a squelching noise sounded in front of them. A shadow fell over them a moment later, and Bonnie dared to lift their head and look up.
Sadness.
Sadness!
Bonnie opened their mouth to scream, shout out for their family, curling their hands into fists and focusing on the craft building up in their shoulders. They would have to hold out by themselves but–
There was a flash of darkless fabric.
The sound of metal hitting goop, carving through it.
A lightless flash lurched up from the Sadnesses very being, diagonal from shoulder to knee. It squealed, an awful loud noise, and then burst, disgusting goop exploding in every direction, smearing across Bonnie’s face, the trees–
They blinked, wiping at their face.
Kneeling down in front of them was the darkless figure, hands hovering around their face. They’re checking over Bonnie for injuries, they realized. “Be more careful, Bonnie!”
Bonnie couldn’t help but sniffle, eye snapping over to their eyepatch. Bonnie had crabbed this up before, hadn’t they? They had messed up so badly that Frin had–
“I’m sorry,” Bonnie blubbered out, reaching up to drag their arm across their face. “I– I forgot, I didn’t mean–”
“Woah,” Frin said, urgently, taking a knee, leaning towards you. “I shouldn’t have yelled. You’re– you’re just a kid, you don’t know better, you didn’t–”
“Bonnie!” Belle, running up to them, threw herself close to hug Bonnie tight to her. “Oh, thank Change, I wasn't thinking– Thank you! Thank you so much!” She said to Frin, looking up at them with eyes wet with tears. “If you weren’t here– I don’t know what we would’ve done.”
For some reason, Bonnie felt vindicated. Like it was this great, important thing that she saw them. But that didn’t make sense. Frin was always with them, weren’t they?
Frin was already on their feet, several steps back, ducking into their cloak. “. . . I was just in the area.”
“We’re lucky you were,” Za said, arriving a moment later. “You’ve got a knack for that kind of thing, don’t you? Thanks, Sif.”
Frin
flinched–
“You know who I am?” They demanded, shoulders lifting to their ears. “You remember?”
Of course they remembered Frin?!
“Of course we remember you?” Dile agreed, frowning in concern. “You’ve been with us for a long time, you. . .” she trailed off.
. . . Did she really not remember where she had seen them before?! That was so crabbing stupid! They were always–
They.
. . . .
. . . .
“If you remember!” The figure in front of them spat, almost like a cat would, taking an angry step forward. “Then why would you let Bonnie wander off by themselves?! We agreed we wouldn’t let them do that anymore! They could get seriously hurt!”
“Hey.” Za frowned. “Not that we don’t appreciate you being here, but what right do you have giving us parenting advice for our kid?”
The stranger flinched, again, stumbling back away from them. Their single eye – they weren’t even hurt! Why did Bonnie feel bad just looking at them?! – bounced between them desperately, looking for something, looking for–
Their breath started to come faster, awful heaving ones. “Of course. Of course, you just had to think about it, didn’t you? You just had to. . .” They pivoted on their heels, shaking their head. “No. No, sorry. Just– forget it. Be more careful with Bonnie.”
“Bonnie.” Za repeated.
“The kid.” The figure amended, as if they hadn’t just revealed themselves to be a creepy stalker. “Just keep an eye out? Please? Something bad could happen otherwise.”
“Do you know that guy?” Nille demanded impatiently, tapping her foot.
“No.” Za said. “I’ve never seen them before in my life.”
“Huh, really? Because, they kind of look like one of Bonnie’s wood carving figurines.”
The air grew impossibly still.
(>)
It was weird, right? They had just found out some weird creep had been chasing them around, learning things about Bonnie.
Planting a wood carving of themselves among Bonnie’s collection for some creepy reason Mirabelle couldn’t begin to fathom, they had tried to burrow themselves into their lives! Thought they could save Bonnie and then berate them like it wouldn’t send off all their alarm bells!
But as she sat there that night, the carving in her hand, preparing to chuck it into their campfire, she. . .
Found she couldn’t bring herself to.
It was stupid. It was wrong, it was dangerous! But the idea of getting rid of it. . .
She felt like she was destroying something fragile.
Mirabelle sighed, looking up at the sky above them, filled with a billion flickering lights. Sometimes, she wondered what they were. Fireflies, maybe? That didn’t make sense. They hardly ever moved, and when they did it was just a quick flash of light, a blink-and-you-miss-it moment, like–
There! Just like that!
A quick zap of light, and then it was gone, and–
Mirabelle sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head.
It didn’t matter. She was getting off track.
She looked down at the carving, running her finger over the carving’s face, it’s smile, it’s one missing eye. “I wish we knew what your intentions are.” She hissed at its face. “I wish we knew what you wanted!”
something
broke
and
the
fire
looked
funny
(>>>)
Odile lifted up her lamp as they wandered the woods, chasing down their lost rogue.
She should’ve known long ago, the emptiness among their group too great to ignore, but smothered by Craft and pain regardless.
While she had noticed a handful of times that the formation they stood in left an aching emptiness in their center, between Isabeau and Mirabelle, her ability to hold onto that piece of information had slid out of her fingers as easily as water.
The flaw in their tactics had been obvious, but she could only call it out in hindsight.
She did not understand how they could’ve forgotten so thoroughly. Neither did anyone else, brought awake to the sensation of Mirabelle shaking them awake and sobbing, telling them about Siffrin, reminding them that he existed–
What terrible friends they were, that they had forgotten him.
That they believed, if only for an evening, that he was someone hunting them down, intending to kidnap Bonnie.
They had lost their eye for Bonnie, and how did they repay them? By losing their memories of the very person who had fought so hard for them!
They never would’ve gotten through the House without Siffrin. And yet Odile could recall both sets of memories easily. She could remember the empty spot at their front. The keys found from it falling out of a closet, the levers pressed by an unforeseen force–
Of course Siffrin had always been there, handing them back. How could he ever not be?
How could they be so awful as to have forgotten him?
“Let me get this right,” Pétronille said at Odile’s side. “When I asked if you all knew that person, you told me no. But now, less than a day later, you’re telling me you always knew them, and they’ve been mysteriously missing for some time now?”
“. . . yes.”
“And you only remember because. . . Little Miss Housemaiden managed to break whatever forgotten Craft was keeping him hidden from you?”
Odile breathed carefully, in and out. She knew where she got that little habit from now. It didn’t make it hurt any less.
“Yes.” Odile said slowly. “That’s about correct.”
“Wow. Leave it to Belle to stumble on the right answer for everything.” Pétronille murmured, mostly to herself. “She really is just. . . the perfect person, isn’t she?”
. . . Odile tried not to let Pétronille’s bitterness bother her.
There wasn’t any real hostility between the two younger women anymore, but Pétronille had never quite gotten past the way Bonnie had clearly latched onto all of them, craving a support group that Pétronille, on her lonesome, could not provide.
Odile wasn’t in the mood to mention it most days, and she certainly wasn’t today. They had more pressing matters, like trying to get their long lost rogue to come home.
Not that they’d be able to find him.
There was no sign of him anywhere aside from the barely-starting-to-reform Sadness goop where they had seen him that afternoon, the branches above broken from the force of which he had dropped out of them.
“Do you really think we’ll be able to track them down?” Pétronille asked, curious, holding up her own lantern to inspect the foliage in the direction Siffrin had disappeared.
“. . . It’s unlikely.” Odile admitted, the admittance feeling like gravel in her throat. “Perhaps, but. . . If they do not want to be found, then they won’t be. And after the way we talked to them. . . I doubt they think we want anything to do with them.”
“To be fair, they were being a massive creep.”
Maybe a little, but that was because they were missing valuable context. They were missing a lot of context, really.
Odile thought of the carvings. She thought of the smooth cover of the familytale.
She didn’t know how Siffrin had known of the familytale, but he had pressed it into her hands without hesitation. He clearly knew she wanted it. He clearly knew that she wasn’t approaching him because she knew him, but because he had something she wanted.
The thought made her sick.
He was still a mystery to unravel, but he was his friend, lost, alone, and hurting. Someone who clearly knew them.
They had never become strangers to him, not the way he had become one.
“. . . It doesn’t matter.” Odile sighed. “If we stumbled upon him before, multiple times, then I have faith we’ll stumble upon him again. He’s somewhere out there. And we’ll find him.”
She hoped, anyway. It was the most she could do.
(>>>>>>)
When Isabeau next spotted Siffrin, it was nothing more than a glimpse of darkless fabric that caught his eye. He found himself looking at every darkless thing he found, hoping desperately it was Siffrin, hoping he had finally found him, his buddy, his best pal, the one who, quite literally, got away.
His gaze barely lingered, just long enough to confirm they weren’t who he thought, and then away he looked again.
Except this time, there was something special about it. The shade was so hauntingly bright, one he recognized and was well familiar with.
He knew who that belonged to.
He barely had to look at the pointy hat to confirm it, or the corner of the eyepatch that he could barely see behind locks of hair, that disappeared as Siffrin turned his back on him.
Isabeau had always known that eyepatch was his own handiwork from the first time he saw it, but of course he smothered it down because of that once-changed Craft, or whatever had cursed them!
Siffrin was walking away from Isabeau, at a smooth, even pace, nothing like the rapid speed walk he always broke into before whenever anyone saw him.
They probably hadn’t seen Isabeau or Pétronille, standing at the stall, scanning the crowd.
“Hey,” Isabeau said quietly to Pétronille, waiting for Siffrin to perk up like he always did at the sound of their voices, but Siffrin didn’t.
Instead, Siffrin stopped at a stall, picking up a fruit and rotating it in his gloved hand.
Isabeau could imagine the face he was wearing.
“Hey,” Isabeau said a little more urgently, and Pétronille sighed, something impatient and tired, but he pushed the shopping basket her way. “Watch this for me, I’ve gotta– hold on.”
Pétronille grunted in confusion at her suddenly increased load while Isabeau pivoted away from her, walking as quickly as he could towards Siffrin’s back.
Let this be Siffrin, don’t let it be someone else–
Who else would be wearing such a recognizable cloak and hat?
Isabeau was still ten paces away from Siffrin by the time Siffrin stiffened, setting down the fruit with careful deliberation. Isabeau could see the way his arm trembled.
They turned around, eye already blown wide with clear terror before it even locked on Isabeau.
It was almost enough to stop Isabeau in his tracks completely. Nearly, but not quite. Isabeau closed the distance, reaching out his hand for Siffrin, feeling a relieved smile growing on his face. “Sif, I’m so happy to–
Siffrin burst into action.
He swung around, ducking under Isabeau’s arm, fingers snapping–
Isabeau caught the collar of his cloak before he could get more than a step through. “Come on,” Isabeau said chidingly as Siffrin jolted in place, gaggling around the taught fabric. “I know your tricks, buddy. You can’t slip away from me.”
Siffrin was breathing hard, Isabeau realized.
Arms snapping up to wrap around their face, trying to jerk their way out of Isabeau’s grip, lowering himself more and more into a kneel the longer Isabeau held on. The stall owners were looking at them in confusion, half leaned out over their products to frown at them.
That didn’t matter right now. Siffrin was shaking.
“Sorry,” Isabeau apologized quickly, letting go of Siffrin and getting down next to him. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry. Wasn’t thinking. You know me! Not really good at the whole thinking-things-through thing!”
Siffrin. Paused.
They blinked at him, eyebrows knit together, still with their arms wrapped around their face. “No, you’re–” They cut themselves off with a shake of their head.
Oh.
Isabeau knew what the problem was. Duh, of course that’s what it was! Odile had predicted this ages ago, how had he not listened?!
“Sif. Siffrin, Siffarooni–”
Siffrin flinched again.
Okay! Okay that was cool, that was so totally cool! “Buddy.” Isabeau prompted. “We remember you, buddy.”
Siffrin shook his head.
“For real this time!” Isabeau promised. “We actually– we actually do, okay? You can look at us, you can–”
“Za!” Pétronille called, arriving at his side at a trot. “You actually found him again?! Crab, I guess Madame Dile was right, we were going to bump into him again–!”
Isabeau made the mistake of turning towards her, barely managing to snag Siffrin’s cloak again when he attempted to scoot away from him. “Hey! Hey. . . Stop that. We’re. . . We’re not going to hurt you, Sif. Don’t you. . . want to stay with us?”
Siffrin froze, turning to stare at him with wide-open shock. His gaze darted up to Pétronille, and then back to Isabeau. “I– I’m not– You keep–” they trailed off. Their gaze searched Isabeau’s, looking desperately for something. “How. . . how are you still remembering me?”
“Easy,” Isabeau grinned at Siffrin. “Mira did something and fixed it.”
Siffrin stared at Isabeau, fingers clenching around the dirt, and then releasing, and clenching again. “That’s not how that works,” he said mournfully. “That’s not how it– you should be forgetting me again already! You’ve never been able to– not before– Look, I’m sorry I butt into parenting the— the kid, but–”
“Bonnie told me you protected them from a Sadness.” Pétronille said, arms crossed and frowning down at him. “Lost an eye for it. Nobody’s quite sure how they forgot you, and they’re not happy they did, but trust me. I don’t care about the parenting thing, and neither does anyone else.”
“Honestly, we’re just glad you’re not some creep.” Isabeau agreed, reaching up his hand to hold Siffrin’s face. Immediately, he pulled back at Siffrin’s flinch. “Look, we– We’ve been looking for you everywhere ever since then! It’s been– it’s been a good few weeks, hasn’t it! We weren’t able to find you– anywhere!”
Siffrin stared at him for another minute, gathering up his cloak. Isabeau let him, still ready to lunge out and grab him if he needed to, but Siffrin seemed calmer now.
“I don’t. . .” Siffrin took a trembling inhale in, and released it. “I haven’t been meaning to follow you. I keep trying to– go anywhere else, and then I’ll look up and there you are. I wasn’t trying to be– creepy.”
“You weren’t trying to find us?” Isabeau repeated, confused.
“. . . it hurt too much.” Siffrin admitted quietly, eye skittering across the ground. They weren’t looking at Isabeau anymore. “That’s why– That’s why I don’t believe you. There’s no way you just– broke the Craft. There’s no way you did it accidentally.”
“Why not?”
“Because–!” Siffrin spluttered. “Becuase I– I knew how to, and I keep doing it accidentally, but Mira doesn’t, so how did she–?! I blinded it up! I don’t get an easy reset! You have to– you have to prove it! Prove you actually remember me! Say something!”
“Oh boy.” Isabeau breathed.
“Hey,” one of the stall owners said in confusion, leaning far over to squint at them. “Do I need to call the Defenders?”
“No.” Siffrin muttered, hiding in their cloak.
“It’s okay!” Isabeau reassured quickly. “I used to be a Defender!”
“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is, Za.” Pétronille deadpanned, and then to the stall owner, said, “Promise we’ll be out of your hair in a second. We’re just dealing with this right now.”
“Pétronille mentioning you lost your eye for Bonbon isn’t enough?” Isabeau asked Siffrin, pushing his hands, palm up, into his lap.
Siffrin, meekly, shook his heard.
“Hmm. Okay. Okay, let’s see– you’re a pun master, you know. You didn’t start using them until two weeks in, and then it was an every day thing! You were always taking care of us. Going hunting and foraging when we weren’t near a town. You were kind of mean at first, too, even after you started using puns. That changed after we met Bonnie, you know? You were so nice to them, and then I guess they convinced you to be nice to us.”
“Sorry,” Siffrin said meekly.
“No, no! It’s okay! It’s fine! It really wasn’t even all that big of a deal, it was just. . .” Isabeau frowned at Siffrin, still shying away from him. “. . .You lead us through the House really easily, you know? You were so fast about it. Efficient. We knew. . . We knew we had chosen the right person to lead us, you know? And then we defeated the King, and you just. . . Didn’t stick around.”
Siffrin’s shoulders were shaking, fingers twisting into each other.
“We were so scared.” Isabeau whispered. “We were starting to leave the House to try to find you, because you weren’t anywhere at all. You never came back, and then we. . .”
Isabeau felt his own voice break, and he fought against the tears welling up in his eyes, tearing his gaze away from Siffrin. If they chose now to run, he wouldn’t notice. “. . . we forgot. We forgot about you! I don’t know how, but we went from knowing you and loving you to– to–!”
A small hand, a touch Isabeau never wanted to forget again, rested on top of Isabeau’s hands. Jolting back to himself, Isabeau raised his tear–stained eyes to meet Siffrin’s.
Oh.
Oh, Siffrin was–
Siffrin was listening to him. They were hearing him! “Hey, Sif.”
Siffrin’s smile was watered down, but it was real. “Hey, Isa.” They greeted timidly, voice cracking as his fingers unfurled against his.
“Sif. . . !”
“Isa!”
“Sif!”
“Isa!”
“Can I hug you?” Isabeau pleaded, and Siffrin nodded, rabbit-quick, desperate, willing. Oh thank Change!
Isabeau surged forward, wrapping his arms around Siffrin’s back and pulling him in close. Siffrin startled in his hands, and then shoved against him, small arms reaching up to wrap around his back.
“See?” Pétronille bragged to the stall owners. “Everything’s cool! They’re cool!”
They were! They were.
They were back together again, finally, after so long–
There was a lot to talk about. Like if Siffrin knew how they forgot him, why he never reached out, how he knew whatever it was that Mira did that fixed it, why he didn’t do it himself–
Why he thought he needed to avoid them.
But that! That did not matter right now.
Because right now, Siffrin was in Isabeau’s arms. He believed they wanted him, and Isabeau was never going to let him go ever again.