Chapter Text
Alright, Isabeau.
It’s the day before you’re supposed to kick the King’s butt.
Are you ready?
… No. You don’t think you’ll ever be, really. This is terrifying. As a Defender, you were mostly responsible for a couple city blocks. If you messed up, did something wrong, it wasn’t a big deal. Either the solution would fall into your lap naturally, or the rest of the Defenders would come in and cover up your gaff. (that still twists at your stomach when you think about it too much) (if you were braver, you would have quit the moment you noticed)
But, here? You’re responsible for a whole country. If you mess up tomorrow, then there’s nobody else to…
… Anyway.
You’re standing in front of the Favor Tree. M’dame Odile gave you a knowing look and told you to take as much time as you wanted to figure out your wish. You know exactly what she thinks you’re here for, but.
Well, yeah, you are worried about what you’re going to do about you and Siffrin, but you don’t need a wish to figure that out. You know what you’re going to do, precisely, to the letter.
(whether you’ll follow through on that is a different story, but you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it)
Until then, you’ll think about what you’re actually here for.
You’re not superstitious, but superstitious rituals are a fun little game for you. (it’s childish to wish to a tree to pass some exams, but you did it anyway, fresh as you were after your change) (your refusal of your own intelligence) It’s nice to pretend, for a moment, that everything is as simple as it looks at face value. That your horoscope could have an effect on anything. (that if you look in the mirror and say a few words often enough, they become true)
When all of you were on your way out of Porteria, you found a little fortune teller’s stall. By then, word of Mirabelle’s blessing had traveled far enough beyond Vaugarde for the fortune teller to do a hard read on her, but they were cold reading you and the rest of the party. It was fun (and sad) when they pegged you as a lovable goofball with a heart of gold and gave you a stock fortune to match.
(you had trouble keeping up your facade then, and you remember locking eyes with siffrin, who had just gotten his own incorrect fortune reading)
(you couldn’t shift your expression fast enough)
(caught in your stupid lie)
(and they shrugged, not pitying you, not selling you out, just rolling their eyes and sharing a moment of camaraderie with you, a fellow actor)
(and that’s)
(when you started letting yourself have real feelings)
So.
What will you wish for?
You can’t wish for anything that really, truly matters to you. Because if you do, and it comes true, you’ll feel cheated for the rest of your life. (that your biggest accomplishments were because of a wish) (not because you were good enough to do it yourself) You also can’t wish for anything you don’t care about, because then the wish won’t work. So what else is there to wish for?
(nothing)
(you care too much)
(it’s embarrassing)
Nothing comes to you. You resign to let yourself be the only one out of your group without a wish. But then, where does that leave you? Thinking about the King (this is your last day alive, and you know this), thinking about the curse (and everyone you couldn’t save), thinking about running away (coward, coward, coward)?
No. You want to make sure you’re nice and chipper the next time you talk to everyone. You’re the heart of the group. The rock. The morale.
(act like it)
You let your mind wander to something nicer.
(maybe m’dame odile wasn’t too far off with her assessment of you)
You wonder if Siffrin knows he has feelings for you. It’s obvious they have them, but they don’t really… flirt with you. Not in a traditional way, at least! Whenever you collaborate on some elaborate joke together, he’s always caught off guard laughing with you, always confused at their own reactions. In those rare moments where you share a moment that’s tender, that tugs at your own heart comfortingly, they stutter and stumble like the concept of romance is entirely foreign to him. It makes you wonder if you’re the first person they’ve ever developed feelings for. If that’s true… you really need to come at this carefully. Make it a good experience for them.
(this perceived inexperience is the reason why you can rationalize your cowardice confessing to them)
(if you can argue it’s for their benefit, you can lie to yourself all day)
As if summoned by your thoughts of them, Siffrin comes around the corner to make their own wish.
(you can’t help but smile at their shift in expression when they look at you)
(it’s barely perceptible, but you see their eye brighten, the lid half a centimeter higher than it was before)
Both you and Siffrin are actors. You’re the airhead jock, he’s the mysterious stranger. When you’re put together, you’re the comic relief duo. But it’s all fake, isn’t it? You’ve had enough moments where you’ve seen past their presentation to know what they’re really like. And you like what you’ve seen, all of it, but you’re… worried. It’s like there’s something darker past their own act that they’re not even aware of. That’s a point about your infatuation of him that you haven’t even told M’dame Odile, as much as you’ve used her to keep your own emotions in check.
But you are fully genuine when you’re alone, your face pulling a goofy smile without your permission. Your stumbling, puppy-love act isn’t that fictional when you’re left to your own devices with Siffrin. (just because you cage your heart doesn't mean it's nonexistent)
“Isa!” (their eye crinkles around the edges)
“Sif!” (you’re certain yours are doing the same thing)
“Isa!!!” (if he didn’t love you, why would they indulge you in this when the audience isn't here?)
“Sif!!!!!” (if you didn’t love them back, why would this routine make your chest tight?)
They stick out their tongue cutely. “Okay, that’s enough.”
“Aw, boo!” You could have yelled with him at least twice more before you stopped the bit. “Anyway, I was just looking at the Favor Tree! Isn’t this tree cool???”
“Yeah it is…”
“Glad you agree!”
He smiles. They’re going to make a pun!! “One could say it’s a pretty…”
“Uh huh???”
“… TREE-mendous tree.”
“HAHAHA!!!!! YEAH!!!” It’s not their best, but it catches you enough off guard that all the stress leaves your body. “YEAH!!!!!! YES!!!!!!!”
You reach forward to place your hand on their shoulder. (as a bro thing, you’d say, if they asked)
(it’s the end of the world and you need contact)
(but are you selfish enough to touch them even though they dislike it?)
… No, you’re not. Dial it back a bit, buddy.
“Haa. That was funny.” You let your hand swing next to your leg, passing it off as you catching your balance after laughing so hard. “I’m gonna go soon so you can do your thing with the tree, but do you wanna talk before I go?”
He does have a few things to talk to you about. A sleepover, which you agree to, and get your dibs on the left side (this is a courtesy to him, since you can tell he gets nervous when sleeping on the right side with his new blind spot). You explain the Favor Tree (you wonder where they’re from, since they don’t know a lot about vaugarde). He asks what you’ll do after defeating the King (you answer honestly, for once, after deflecting and venting about the defenders to them).
… You, uh, say a lot to him for that last one. More than you calculated. It's not your fault, you have trouble keeping your crabbing mouth shut around them. If he wanted to, you think he could pluck out the exact thread inside you that would fully unravel the binds you've put yourself in. But either out of ignorance or respect, they don't. Instead, Siffrin watches you fondly when you explain your next step of being a clothing designer. You smile, tie back any bubbling feelings you have about that, and try not to be disappointed when they tell you their dream for the future, which is obviously something they made up on the fly.
Maybe they’re undecided. Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with how much they do or don’t trust you.
Maybe later, you can both pull back the curtains and you can figure out what he really wants to do after this fight, if you both manage to survive it. (would they be willing to do it alongside you?) (so you don’t have to let go?)
… Stop that, you’re not going to get anywhere by being desperate.
All options of conversation exhausted, you wave them goodbye and give them some space to think.
(it would be nice if you could spend your last day with them)
(you have a stupid little fantasy about taking him stargazing, but you don’t indulge in it)
(it feels wrong to have too much fun today, even if you know you’ll never have another chance for any of this)
(because no matter how prepared you are)
(you know your team can’t beat the king how you are)
(but you can pretend)
(siffrin loves plays)
(he’d probably like an actor)
You’re always the first to wake up in the group, even on a normal day.
(it’s nice to have some time to yourself, without the act, for an hour or two)
(get into character)
Your reflection in the mirror is fuzzy. You can only see blurred shapes, finding landmarks in your reflection by changes in value. Without your glasses, you could be classified as legally blind. That’s what they said when you signed up for the Defenders. You still have them, too, sitting at the bottom of your bag in a protective case.
Every morning, you decide not to bring them out.
Every morning, you need to use the minor craft that fixes your eyesight instead.
You could have opted for the permanent option when you were crafting your body, but you didn’t. It should be a conscious choice, every day. (a daily promise to keep the facade up)
You flick yourself in the forehead to apply the craft, and your reflection sharpens in the mirror. The messy, mid-toned hair sitting on the top of your skull. The broad, hooked-bridge nose you crafted on yourself to act as a facial anchor. The too-wide, lopsided smile that you fix to be sufficiently warm and encouraging. The little scruff of facial hair you keep on your chin. The dangly, jangly earrings that used to feel heavy when you first started sporting them - you barely notice them, now.
That’s Isabeau.
(and he’s going to let vaugarde die out today)
(guess he’s not any better than the defenders after all)
“Everything’s fine,” Siffrin says, walking all over the Death Corridor without any worries in their mind, and you believe them.
(craftology says people with protector craft are gullible, so you pretend to be)
(except this time it’s not an act)
(and you don’t have the time to feel embarrassed over this genuine streak of gullibility before - )
Alright, Isabeau.
It’s the day before you’re supposed to kick the King’s butt.
Are you ready?