Chapter Text
You’re worried about Siffrin.
That’s pretty much always the case, these days. It’s hard not to be concerned when the two of you (alongside the rest of your group) are literally fighting to save your country, with all the risks and dangers such a quest might imply. Sif's lack of self-preservation skills doesn't help matters: even Bonnie's better at knowing their limits and keeping themselves safe.
And, well, you're concerned because you love him. Not that it really matters for this: you love every member of your party, each in their own way, and you worry about them, too.
For Mira, who's been forced to face down memory after memory of everything she'd lost to the King's attack.
For m'dame Odile, who takes on too much of the responsibility of keeping you all in line.
For Bonbon, who's far too young to be caught up in all of this.
No one deserves the fate that has befallen Vaugarde, but them least of all — you shudder to think of the individual who thinks watching their spirit fade and freeze could be anything but a tragedy. You're not the smartest of your group, nor the bravest, nor the fastest, but you were trained as a Defender, and you'll continue to protect those you care about until the world ends or you die trying to save it. You wouldn't hesitate to take a blow for any member of your group, and you know most of them (however much you dislike the thought) would do the same for you.
But Sif’s different.
And Sif’s been different. Ever since yesterday, when they went to make a wish at the Favor Tree, you think — ever since then, they've felt off. At first you'd dismissed it as nothing, because you were all stressed about today, and of course Sif's acting a bit weird! You all are!
Then things kept happening. Sif's been quieter than usual all morning — you don't think you've heard a single pun — and they make navigating the House's twisted pathways look almost effortless, the way they glide from room to room, key to key, without so much as a moment of hesitation. Not to mention that you don't remember him being this strong, when you're fighting Sadnesses, nor the technique that he's been using to slice through enemy after enemy in only a couple hits.
Yeah, you could dismiss this all as luck or stress or some quirk of the House's corruption, but you're not as stupid as you tend to pretend you are. There's something else going on. You're also not as brave as you pretend to be, not enough to start a conversation about it.
So now, you're all standing in a secret room hidden in the Dormont House's library that Mirabelle hadn't even heard rumors of, listening to Sif translate a book about a Craft type you'd never even heard of before today that's written in a language neither you nor Odile even recognize, and you can't ignore the feeling that there's something a bit strange about the whole situation.
Or a lot strange. You know m'dame Odile's noticed, considering the two of you keep giving each other Looks every time he finds a key after barely a minute of searching or he flinches away at an innocuous comment. Mirabelle, you're less certain about, but she's got enough to worry about at the moment to be fretting about how your rogue seems to be too good at their job. Bonnie just looks bored out of their mind at the thought of reading yet another theoretical Craft essay.
You don't blame them. It's not exactly the most interesting topic: most of what Sif's reading right now just seems to be various methods for setting up Wish Craft rituals. Not something that's particularly relevant right now: even if you knew how the King got the ability to Craft time, it's not like that'll help you stop him.
You're almost about to tune out when Siffrin mentions something that catches everyone's attention: apparently Favor Trees can grant wishes. Like the one in Dormont. That everyone started asking things to even before the King took over the House here.
It's not too surprising, when you take the time to actually think about it. The superstition had to come from somewhere, after all, even if the reasoning behind it was seemingly lost to time. But then...
"What did you all wish for?" Sif asks the question before you can get to it. You already know most of their answers. M'dame Odile wished to win a coin flip. Bonnie wants their sister to be okay. Mirabelle wants to save Vaugarde and stop the King. Unfortunately, then it's your turn, and you have to sheepishly admit that you didn't... actually... wish for anything.
"I'm an indecisive guy!!! Leave me alone!!!" you tell everyone, when they question you. Wishing for Vaugarde to be safe, like Mira, hadn't felt right, especially when you knew so many others had already done so. And then every other option just felt... too small, too selfish, compared to that. What were you supposed to do, go up to a mythical tree on the evening before you were literally about to risk your life fighting for Vaugarde's last chance at survival and wish for help confessing to your crush?
Although now, considering that Wish Craft might actually be real... maybe you should have asked for something. You tell the group this, and most of them seem to agree.
Except for Siffrin, who proceeds to insist that you (alongside the rest of Vaugarde) have been wishing wrong their whole life, and so none of your wishes would have ever come true anyway. Which, admittedly, is hard to believe. Sure, most Vaugardians don't take superstitions like this too seriously, but an entire country can't just all be wrong? You can't all have misremembered? Not when the only person insisting you're wrong is Sif, who you already know has a tendency to not remember things right, and who also might not have known what a Favor Tree was before yesterday.
But... you don't think you’ve ever heard Sif’s method for wishing before, but something about it just feels right. Like he's explaining some fundamental law of the world to you, and you don't quite understand why but you know in your heart that what he's saying is true. Or maybe it's just your love-blinded heart talking.
Odile seems to think it's funny. "This could have been a way to save Vaugarde if everyone somehow wished for it," she says, "but no one knew how to do it correctly, so..." She laughs. "And the only person who knew how to do it wished for... What did you wish for, Siffrin?"
They freeze.
You're worried about Siffrin. And in that moment, you've never been more certain that there's something wrong. It's the little things, really. The way they've barely spoken a word all day. The way their smile drops every time they think you're not looking. The way they whisper their wish — to see Bonnie reunite with their sister — with the same hushed hesitance you’d expect from them admitting they’d secretly wished for your quest to fail.
“That’s – that’s a lovely wish, Siffrin.” Mira smiles at Sif, causing you to catch only a glimpse of his darkened cheeks before he tucks his face beneath his hat.
“Yeah! Maybe I should have thought of something like that. I suppose that’s just wishful thinking, though.” Your (admittedly, not great) attempt at a pun goes largely unnoticed. Siffrin, in particular, doesn’t seem to even have heard, their gaze focused on the preteen who’s rushed forward to tug at their cloak and get their attention.
“You don’t have to come, you know. If you don’t want to,” Bonbon insists. “I can get back on my own! You don’t have to protect me.”
“You don’t have to protect me,” they repeat, more quietly. “But, if you really do want to come to Bambouche with me—"
Sif bends down to look Bonnie straight in the eyes. “There’s nothing I’d want more, Bonbon."
"Do you really mean it???"
"I don't think Siffrin would have made a wish like that if he didn't mean it, Boniface," Odile interjects. “That being said…”
It takes you a moment to recognize Odile’s expression as nervous, considering it’s not an emotion you see from her often. “If the two of you plan on traveling to Bambouche together, would you mind if I accompanied you? I don’t plan on returning to Ka Bue quite yet, and I haven't gotten to see what Vaugarde is like when it’s not being frozen by the King’s Curse."
She smiles. “And, I must admit, I would like to meet your sister, Boniface. That is, if you’re willing to have an old lady slow your travel plans down.”
Bonnie lights up. “Dile and Frin?!” they exclaim, eyes sparkling.
“A-and me, too!” Everyone looks Mirabelle’s way. “I’ve been thinking about going on a pilgrimage, to see the world — and so I want to come! It would be nice, traveling together without the pressure of trying to save Vaugarde.”
She looks directly at you. “I know you have a job to get back to, Isabeau, but…”
“The job that I quit because none of the other Defenders were willing to help you, Mira? I mean, sure I’d like to get back to Jouvente eventually, to see how everyone's doing, but there's nothing there I need to go back for yet. And... I don't want to say goodbye yet. To any of you." You just hadn't realized that everyone else felt the same way.
Odile laughs. "So, we all wanted to keep traveling together, huh? But none of us had the courage to ask."
"I- I was going to bring it up!" Mira says. "After - if we defeated the King, before you all left!"
"Were you, now?"
"I was! Really!"
"Well, regardless, it's... a relief, to know that we all agree on this." Odile smiles. "I suppose we have you to thank for that, Siffrin. I believe we have quite a lot to thank you for, actually."
"We do?" Bonnie looks confused.
"Well, they wished to see you reunite with your sister, didn't they?"
Oh! You think you understand where m'dame's going with this. "And that can't happen if Vaugarde's still frozen, right?"
"Exactly, Isabeau. I suspect we've already seen some of the effects of this Wish Craft, as well. Unless, Siffrin, you want to continue to insist that your sudden knack for navigating the House finding keys so effortlessly is mere 'luck' or 'talent'."
"I..." Sif hides even further behind his hat.
"Oh, don't be so shy! I don't know where or how you learned about this, but you may just have saved Vaugarde by doing so." You don't remember the last time you've seen m'dame Odile this optimistic without a couple of drinks in her.
But if she's right (and she usually is), there's good reason to be. You smile. "Let's go, Sif!"
"Do- do you really think so, madame?" Mirabelle asks nervously. "I know Siffrin's been helping out a lot so far, but... I just don't know if..."
"Belle." Bonnie looks the most confident out of all of you. "Do you not trust Frin?"
"No, I do, but..."
"Then we're gonna be fine! Because Frin said so, and they're the one who knew how to wish right. And because I can't show you guys around Bambouche if everything's still frozen."
"That's not exactly how it works, but Boniface does have a point," Odile says. "And unfortunately, as much as I'd love to learn more about how Wish Craft works, we don't have all day. What's done is done, and we definitely won't defeat the King if we stand around here for much longer."
"Y- yeah! Let's keep going," Sif agrees.
As usual, when you exit, he's the one to take the lead.
You're still worried about Siffrin.
It'd been easy enough to set your concerns aside when you were still preparing to fight the King. Sure, Sif was too quiet, and didn't joke around with you, and kept tearing through Sadnesses like they were nothing, but that was just the stress of having an entire country's fate resting on their shoulders, right? Or the forgotten Craft powers he'd somehow harnessed that you barely understood.
And yet... the King is gone, now. Vaugarde is saved.
You can still hardly believe it yourself, even when you watched him vanish with your own two eyes. Months of journeying and practicing and training were all worth it to see everyone smile, to laugh and cry and scream together as the realization hit that you'd actually won. There wasn't even the bittersweet finality of your journey ending, because you'd all agreed to travel together to get Bonbon back to their sister!
Really, you're not sure how the day could have gone any better!
...Except for the fact that Sif doesn't seem to care about any of this.
Yeah, he'd celebrated with the rest of you, but you've spent too long crafting your facade of confidence to not notice the way every smile of his is weak and hesitant. When you all met with the Head Housemaiden, they'd barely listened to a single word she said, standing slightly apart from your group as if to minimize the role they played in the King's undoing.
It'd been one thing, for them to be distant and taciturn when you were navigating through the House, when you all still had a job to complete and the hopes of a country to fulfill.
But now, it's over, and Siffrin keeps acting like nothing's changed.
Then he comes over to talk to you, and you forget everything you were worrying about. Because you made a promise last night, and now's when you said you'd fulfill it.
"You wanted to tell me something?" Sif's smile is just as half-hearted as every other one he's offered you this afternoon, but you can't let that distract you.
This is it. This is the moment you've been waiting for all this time. And you’re about to finally tell him, to say the words you've struggled for so long to let out, when—
“Will this be quick?”
—he pushes you away.
Which is fine! It really is! Sif's been through enough already: you don't want to pile more emotions onto them. It was a stupid idea anyway, to try and confess to him when he's clearly not doing well.
Besides, you're still going to travel together for a little while! So you'll get other chances! Maybe none of them will be as perfect as, you know, saving the country, but something will work out.
You'll find your courage eventually. Or, you'll Change into someone who can.
It still hurts some, though, even if you know that him dismissing your attempts to reach out doesn't mean he doesn't care. You already know he loves you, anyway, even if it's not in the same way that you love him. You're close friends! Comedy partners! Comrades in arms! You've even started to consider them family, alongside the rest of your party. And if Sif doesn't ever want to be more than that... you'll be fine.
You're happy enough just to share all this with them.
...
After a minute or so of feeling sorry for yourself, you try to catch m'dame Odile's eye. She's almost certainly going to tease you about your inability to get over yourself and tell Sif about your feelings, but you'll gladly take the blow to your pride if it means having someone to talk to. But try as you might, you can't distract her from her current task: keeping an eye on Sif as they talk to the Head Housemaiden. With nothing else to do, you might as well join her.
"Please come back any time!" the Head Housemaiden says cheerfully. "We'd love to see — Siffrin, are you alright?"
That can't be good.
From where you're standing, you can barely see the tip of Sif's hat where it peeks out from behind her, so you don't initially know why she's so concerned. You do, however, notice the moment when he collapses, dropping to their knees as his legs give out beneath him.
You're running towards them before you even fully understand what's going on. "Sif! What's wrong?"
Your heart aches as they look up at you, their chest heaving with shaky breaths and tears streaming from their one good eye. "Is... is it really over, Isa?"
You don't think you've ever seen Sif cry before.
"Yeah, Sif! We did it! We won! We saved Vaugarde!"
They don't seem to believe you. Right now, all you want is to squeeze him close to you, to run your fingers through his hair and tell him that everything's going to be okay. But you know that'd just make Sif uncomfortable, so you settle for verbal reassurance. "It's really over."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" The Head Housemaiden says, just as confused as you are, as she reaches out to put a hand on Sif's shoulder.
As soon as she makes contact, Sif flinches. "I'm fine!" they lie."I just... I just need to..."
He goes quiet for a moment. Then, without another word, he stands up and starts to run back towards the rest of the House.
"Wait! Sif, where are you going?"
They turn around to give you their best impression of a confident smile. Which is to say, a very bad one, considering they look like they're about to pass out from either exhaustion or emotion at any moment. Not to mention that they're still crying. "I'll be back in a few minutes," they insist, before darting off with way more energy than you expected from them.
You breathe in, and out — a trick you picked up from Sif, to calm yourself down — and try not to notice the silence left behind in Siffrin's wake.
"Gems alive." Odile sighs. "I suppose we should go after him, shouldn't we?"
You want to trust Sif when he says he'll be back... but yeah, you probably should.
Notes:
Surely none of this will have consequences.
Don't expect regular and/or frequent updates for this; it is a side project of mine (even if it's kind of taken over almost all my writing time for the past couple weeks). Also, thanks for reading; hope you enjoyed!
Chapter Text
By the time you make it back to Dormont, the exhaustion of spending all day exploring the House and fighting Sadnesses has started to set in.
Bonnie's currently half-asleep on your shoulders (even if they refuse to acknowledge how tired they are, having fervently insisted that "I can keep up!" until you'd suggested that their talents would be better served acting as a lookout). Mira and m'dame Odile are following behind the two of you. They're keeping a slower pace, but they're also not held back by having to constantly stop and ask if anyone's seen the person in a darkless hat and cloak who ran past here recently.
It doesn't help that you can't take more than a dozen steps without running into one Housemaiden after another. All of whom know Mirabelle, and all of whom seem intent on giving her their thanks. You'd appreciate it more if you didn't actively have somewhere to be, right now. Because the last time Sif ran off like that was when they'd first spotted Bonnie, and... Well, you're trying not to think about what could have set him off this time. Especially since none of the ideas you've come up with are good ones.
At least Dormont isn't big enough for their end-of-the-world party to be too crowded, even if everyone in the village seems to be out and about. And, since they haven't been frozen for months, the people here know enough to actually recognize one of the saviors. Which means that you barely have to say a word before someone points you in the direction of the Favor Tree.
"Thank you!" you shout as you run past, ignoring the confused glances and offers of assistance sent your way. You can worry about all that later. Right now, you need to find Sif. It's not like he could really get himself into trouble in a place as peaceful as Dormont, but with the way he's been acting today, you want to be certain.
Luckily for you, there's not much farther to go, and you audibly sigh in relief when you finally catch a glimpse of him, sprawled out on their back beneath the boughs of the Favor Tree.
As soon as Bonnie spots them, they start poking at your back until you lower them to the ground. "Frin!" They start running towards him, but stop after a moment, looking back at you.
Of course they don’t understand why you’re not following them. You don’t know why you’re hesitating, honestly. Maybe it's because you're worried about Sif, and you can't help but feel like there's context that you're missing. That something's gone wrong, in the moments when you weren't around.
Maybe it's because you've had to keep your guard up all day, always looking around and checking to make sure there weren't any Sadnesses trying to mess up your plans. Even though it's over, now (you still haven't really processed that, though, the fact that it's over), you can't find it in yourself to relax.
Maybe it's because you're afraid. Such a simple reason, but those tend to be the most accurate.
Just get over yourself and talk to him. “Sif! Did you really come all the way out here to take a nap?”
The only response you get is the soft whisper of leaves shifting in the wind. Then, louder, the rustling of grass as Bonbon (the bravest of you all, in their own way) takes the lead. “Frin! Stop being stupid and running off! Come on, wake-“
They freeze. “Frin?”
You see all too clearly the moment when something in them breaks.
Bonnie drops to their knees near Siffrin before looking back at you, suddenly wide-eyed and terrified. “Belle!” they shriek, their gaze moving past you to a spot somewhere in the distance.
You can only assume Mira’s coming up behind you, but you don’t have time to look, because something’s wrong, something’s wrong with Siffrin and you can’t waste even a second on anything but running forward to help him and getting to his side and finally getting a better look at him and—
Oh.
Oh Change.
That’s… somehow worse than you expected.
His cloak is tattered and shredded, ripped into strips by the weight of Craft tearing into him. In a few places, the cuts go deep enough to reveal bare skin, although it's difficult to distinguish the dark of Sif's underclothes from the darkness of the blood that continues to seep outward.
You look towards his face, hoping to see a weary smile and hear his stubborn insistence that "everything's fine" even though it very clearly isn't, because at this moment you want nothing more.
Instead, all you're greeted with is a closed eye and a Sif who doesn't seem to be aware of your presence. Like he's sleeping. Or— no. You don't want to even think about that. Right now, they're still breathing, each rise and fall of their chest faint and shaky but still unmistakably there.
Distantly, you notice Mirabelle kneeling at your side, muttering prayers under her breath as she starts to focus wave after wave of Healing Craft into the largest cuts. Bonnie starts to rummage through their bag, searching for any tonics or spare items you hadn't used up in the House. Odile stays a bit further back, but you know that's her trying to help in her own way by giving you all the space you need.
It'll be fine, you tell yourself. Sure, Sif must have the worst luck in the world, to get hurt like this right after your victory, but it's nothing that can't be fixed. You’ll get him back to the house, you’ll all rest up, and then you’ll all talk. About your future plans, about whatever Wish Craft shenanigans have been affecting Sif, about, well, all the things you hadn’t had the time to discuss when the country only had some much of it.
It’s almost believable. Just a few more moments, and you might have convinced yourself. You almost start to believe yourself. And then — you catch a glimpse of something under his collar, and you can’t ignore the chill that runs through you.
Bruises in the unmistakable shape of hands wrapped around their neck.
Like — like someone tried to kill him. Like this was intentional.
Who could have even — no. That's not what's important now. You can worry about who tried to attack Sif later, once you know that they'll live through this.
He's what matters right now. Everything else can wait. Even your own panic. Someone has to stay strong through this, and you've had the most experience with learning to be someone you're not.
A finger pokes you in the side, distracting you from your thoughts. It’s Bonbon, who’s finally found what they were searching for: the last of your Crafted Waters. They hold it out to you wordlessly with shaking hands, but you gesture for them to give it to Mira, instead.
"We don't want to overwhelm him when he wakes up, Bonbon." You'd made that mistake after Sif had lost their eye. "Come on, sit next to me?"
You take Bonnie's hand and guide them to a spot in the grass, close enough that you can still help if (Change forbid) anything goes wrong, but far enough to give Sif space.
They press into your side, trembling. You lean back, and try to keep yourself from doing the same. Bonnie's so young. They shouldn't have had to see any of this. Especially not now, after everything was supposed to be over.
You focus on your breathing. One deep breath in, and then out: don't make Bonbon any more distraught than they already are.
Then, Sif startles awake, and all your focus is on him.
It's a relief at first, to see them conscious and moving and alive. Then, you notice how every minute movement makes them wince, and their look of dazed confusion. Well, confusion, at first: then they catch a glimpse of Mira panicking and shift their expression to a weary smile.
She gasps. "Siffrin! W- what happened? Are you okay? How are you feeling?"
"Hey, Mira." Sif's voice is hoarse and barely audible enough for you to hear. "Have you thought about doing a sleepover tonight?"
What?
"What?" Mira echoes. "Siffrin, I don't... Now isn't the time for that. We- we can do that, sure, but I think there's more important things to be worrying about right now?"
"Absolutely! I- I'll let everyone know!" Well, that answers the "is Siffrin doing okay?" question: he doesn't seem to be listening to Mirabelle at all, so no.
"But...we're all right here?" Mira tilts her head. "Wait... didn't you say this yesterday afternoon?"
"He's probably not thinking straight right now," Odile says. "Don't let it distract you."
Mira still looks unsure, but doesn't press the conversation any further.
"We should probably get him to the House," you say. "Get them somewhere safe to rest and recover. Mira, is Sif stable enough that we can move him?"
"Yeah. That's probably a good idea. But, not yet! I- I still need to..."
"Don't push yourself too hard." You don't like seeing Siffrin injured any more than she does, but you can tell that all the Crafting she's done today has started to take its toll. And you don't know what you'll do if she ends up hurt because of this, too. "There'll be other healers back at the House, right? Ones who haven't spent all day fighting?"
Mirabelle nods. After one final burst of Healing Craft, she stops, pushing herself back onto her knees from where she'd been leaning over them.
"Hey, Sif?" You get as close to him as you can without bumping into either him or Mira. "Can you hear me?"
"Isa?" It didn't seem possible for Sif to look even more lost, but somehow he manages. "You shouldn't be here. Why are you here?"
That one kind of hurts. Where else would you be? Sif's your friend, and your ally, and you've been helping each other out for months now. Sure, he'd run off, and he probably didn't expect you all to follow, but of course you'd be here for him!
At least he recognizes you. It's a low bar, but it's better than nothing.
"I don't think you're capable of walking right now, so I'm gonna have to carry you for a bit, if that's alright?" Hopefully they agree. You know he prefers not to be touched, which is why you're asking, but you can't exactly leave him here if he says no.
You think you catch the barest hint of a nod, but it's hard to tell whether it's an intentional movement. Besides that, they don't respond.
"Just... tell me if it's too much." And, before you can hesitate any longer and talk yourself out of this, you tuck your arms under them and lift them up to your chest.
The first thing you notice is how light he is. You'd seen them without his cloak before, so you knew what kind of body he hid beneath all that fabric, but he still manages to undercut your expectations.
They freeze up when you make contact, before pulling all their limbs inward in an attempt to somehow make themselves smaller. You adjust your grip in response to ensure that they can't fall. When you look down, you see their single eye staring back at you, wide and unblinking.
You ignore the way your heart flutters, alongside the urge to squeeze him tighter. This is about how they're feeling not your own opinions. Don't forget that. "You good?"
Siffrin leans his cheek against your chest, and you can feel its warmth through your shirt. "But you never touch me," they whisper, soft and hesitant, and you know that these are words meant for you and you alone. "You don't want to touch me."
Okay. Sure. That's... probably one of the worst ways he could misinterpret you holding back. You should probably talk about this with them later, when they're fully conscious and present. Just to clear things up.
They continue talking, but their voice has become too soft to be comprehensible. A few moments later, you can feel them drift back into unconsciousness as they relax into you.
"Should we go, then?" If anyone notices the way your cheeks are surely flushed dark, they mercifully don't comment. M'dame gives you a Look as you start the (only slightly slower) trip back to Dormont's House, but you're spared any verbal remarks.
For now. You're certain she'll have something to say about this later.
Not that you're particularly worried about her right now. Under any other circumstances, you'd be overjoyed to have Sif so close.
Right now, you can only hope that you weren't too late.
Word had traveled fast when you got back to the House. By the time you made it to the infirmary, a couple of Housemaidens had already been waiting for you, newly unfrozen and ready to help. And then they’d kicked all of you out — except Mira, who’d insisted on staying — leaving you with nothing to do but wait.
This is not something you’re particularly good at.
If it weren’t for the weight of a sleeping preteen’s head in your lap, pinning you to your chair, you'd have gotten up and left by now in an attempt to find something that you could help with. Surely, with the House still waking up from a months' long rest, an extra pair of hands would have been useful somewhere.
Anything that would help you not think about everything that's happened today.
Anything that'd help you not think about Sif.
Which is definitely not normal for you. Because you like thinking about Sif! He's cute, and he's cool, and you like spending time with him, and you're always looking for new ways to make him laugh or get him to smile. If you've spent too many nights fantasizing about how they'd look in one new outfit or another, well, that's between you and your sketchbook.
Right now, though, all you can see when you think of them is their bloodied and battered body underneath the Favor Tree. Or how pale their face was under the House's lights.
Or the fact that you're still not sure exactly how badly they were hurt. And you can't help but feel like it's at least partially your fault.
You're the one that didn't speak up even though you knew Sif was acting strange. You're the one that let them run off. You're the one who didn't insist on having a talk after you beat the King, too distracted by your own feelings to pay close attention to theirs.
And now, you should be celebrating the King's defeat, with everyone else in town. But instead, you're holed up in a spare room with only the sounds of Bonbon's light snores and m'dame flipping the pages of her book for company.
It's times like this when you almost wish you were as dumb as you pretend to be. Maybe then, you'd be able to convince yourself that worrying about Sif won't help matters.
But your fear is something you've never been able to Change around.
So all you can do is wait.
It takes longer than you'd like, but eventually, Mirabelle finds her way to your room. She looks exhausted (if you've been stressed and worried, she's probably doing worse), but there's a smile on her face as she leans against the doorway.
"He's going to be okay."
It's the best piece of news you've heard all day. And you saved an entire country, earlier.
Odile makes one last note in her book before setting it aside and turning to... you? "Looks like you'll still get your chance to confess, then."
“M’dame, is this really the time for this?” At least she didn't start anything until after you'd gotten confirmation that Sif was going to recover. You know she's only teasing, but your emotions have been played with enough today already.
Mira stares at you, confused, and you bury your face in your hands to hide your blushing. "Confess what? What do you..."
Between barely-open fingers, you see the exact moment that she puts things together.
“Oh, Change!"
Oh no. This is probably the worst time for this conversation to happen.
“Did you really not know, Mirabelle?” Odile laughs. Like she's enjoying this, somehow. Finding pleasure in your suffering. (Okay, maybe it's not that bad, but considering everything that's happened today, you think you've earned the right to be a bit overdramatic.) “Boniface and I have been placing bets for weeks.”
“YOU’VE BEEN IN LOVE WITH SIFFRIN FOR WEEKS AND DIDN’T TELL ME?!?” Mira’s shriek echoes in the silence that follows.
“Let the whole House know, why don’t you?"
“Sorry!” she shouts.
“Sorry,” she repeats, more quietly, “but still… Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’ve been wondering that myself, honestly. Why did you think I was the best one to go to for this, Isabeau?"
"And... you didn't tell him after we defeated the King? Up on the roof, with all of us celebrating our victory: it would have been the perfect time, don't you think?"
"I know!" You were planning to, after all. "I just... couldn't go through with it. Not when Sif was—"
"What's going on with Frin?" Bonbon pokes their head up, then readjusts themself to lean against your shoulder.
"Mira was just about to tell us," you say, thankful for the excuse to change conversation topics.
She takes a deep breath before launching into an explanation. "They... they were pretty badly hurt, but... the other Housemaidens think they should make a full recovery. It's going to take a while, though. Siffrin may have... overused Crafts, pretty severely, so there's only so much healing we could do, and they're going to need to recover from that, too, and- and..." Mira starts to stumble over her words.
"And do you know how long that will take?" m'dame Odile asks.
"It might take a month or two for them to heal fully, but Siffrin should be well enough to travel in a week or two? I don't know for certain. Sorry, I'm... it's been a long day."
"Don't worry, Mira!" you tell her. "I think we all could use some rest, and you more than any of us."
"Oh! And... I was able to get us a couple spare rooms to stay in while we're here, so we don't have to go all the way back to the Clocktower. I'll... probably stay in my room, but... madame, do you mind sharing a room with Bonnie, and then Siffrin will move in with Isabeau once they're feeling better? It's- it's two beds per room, so you don't have to worry about that!"
"That sounds lovely, Mirabelle," Odile says. "Could you show us to them, then?"
"But... I want to see Frin, first!" Bonnie jumps off their chair. "Can we go see him?"
"Siffrin needs their rest, Bonnie." Mira yawns. "We all probably do. But... if it's a quick visit..."
Before you can stop them, Bonbon darts past her and out of the room. "Come on!"
Guess you're doing this now, then. Not that you mind.
The infirmary's just down the hallway, so it's not a long walk. When you get there, Bonnie's already caught the attention of the Housemaiden there, who's currently trying to keep them from barging in the room.
They look relieved when you approach — and more importantly, when they recognize Mirabelle trailing behind you. "You're here about your friend? The one with the darkless hair?"
You nod.
"They're in the bed by the far window. I don't expect they'll wake up until tomorrow at the earliest, but I suppose you can stay if you want. We're not technically supposed to let patients have overnight guests, but, well, you did just save Vaugarde, so whatever."
"Are you sure it'll be okay leaving him here without someone to watch over him?" m'dame Odile asks.
"Oh, yeah, they're not sick or anything, so they shouldn't get worse. Unless you're worried about safety or something, but..."
You've stopped listening, having already moved inside to find Siffrin, with Bonnie following cautiously behind you.
Considering they're the only other person in the room, Sif's not exactly hard to spot. And, apart from the newly-added bandages and lack of a cloak (which is currently draped over a nearby chair), they look pretty much the same as before. Which is to say: pale, fragile, and somehow more peaceful in sleep than you've seen them in any other moment of the past couple days.
You brush a couple stray hairs away from their face, resisting the impulse to let your touch linger on the bruises that still line their neck. Now that you don't have to worry about his wellbeing, that particular injury of his stands out even more.
You can't think of anyone in Dormont who would want to do that to Siffrin. You're not sure how anyone would want to hurt him like this, actually, right after he helped defeat the King and save Vaugarde.
You're not nearly as prone to suspicion as Odile, but even you can tell that there's something you're not seeing. Especially considering all the ways that they'd been acting weird since yesterday afternoon.
Sif. What happened to you?
Notes:
sorry if the pacing’s a little weird in this one: the chapter feels simultaneously rushed and also longer than it needs to be but I don’t think it’s going to get any better anytime soon.
as always, thanks for reading <3! I appreciate any and all comments/feedback!
Chapter 3: dawn
Notes:
added some new tags/warnings, please keep them in mind if there's anything that might be an issue for you!
Chapter-Specific Content Warnings:
- mention of past character deaths
- discussion of suicide
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
You don’t remember the last time you actually fell asleep at the Clocktower.
You don’t remember a lot of things, though, so that detail’s not surprising. Honestly, you weren't sure if you were still capable of sleeping without the assistance of Tears, of being able to rest without one memory or another (a hand, tightening; a family, frightened; a name, forgotten) haunting your mind.
And yet, here you are. Waking up.
Not that you particularly want to be awake, right now. Whatever you were doing yesterday has apparently left you more exhausted than usual (somehow) and feeling like you got crushed by a rock. Without the mercy of dying quickly. But you doubt whatever stroke of luck let you manage dreamless sleep for once will work a second time, so.
Get up, Siffrin. You have a country to save (again).
You slowly open your eye—
and then immediately close it. Too bright, too bright!
That's strange. Normally, you've already left for the House by the time the sun starts to rise above the horizon. Did you sleep in? Did everyone let you?
Did they go to the House without you?
No, they wouldn't. You know that. They need you to lead them. They need you to guide them. They wouldn't just leave, not without at least trying to wake you.
(But they've done it before, haven't they? Gone to the House without you, died in the House without you.)
Okay. Take two. It shouldn't be that hard to just look around.
You ignore the instinct to hide away from all the blinding light, and...
This isn’t the clocktower.
You’re... not quite certain where you are, actually. The architecture reminds you of the House (you're an expert on that now, aren't you), though. Except with the "dark and gloomy" atmosphere swapped out for "bright and welcoming". And you doubt the King's gotten into interior decorating sometime since last loop.
It takes more effort than you expect, but you manage to sit up. Which also means you can see the other side of the room, and—
"Oh! You're awake!"
—good news, you're not alone. This shouldn't be as much of a relief as it is.
Mirabelle's curled up in a chair next to your bed, a half-open book resting on her lap. When she notices you looking at her, she smiles, and asks you what you later assume is some kind of follow-up question.
You don't hear her, all your attention pulled away when you notice one particular detail about her dress.
It's nothing particularly special: plain, long-sleeved, a few shades darker than her brooch. She looks as pretty in it as ever, but that's not what’s important here.
What matters is that you've never seen it before.
It's new.
…
You remember, now.
You remember your family allies agreeing to travel with you and Bonnie for a little while longer. You remember fighting the rest of the way to the King, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold onto this moment but not wanting to let it go. You remember talking to the Head Housemaiden, waiting for the loop to end.
Then it didn’t. And you’re still not sure why.
You remember your confusion, too many emotions flooding you for any of them to make sense. You remember sprinting back through the House, through the village, because there was one person who’d always seemed to know what was going on. One person who would be able to explain things. One person who would be able to help.
Loop.
You don’t want to remember them right now.
You don’t want to remember—
A hand touches your arm.
You instinctively pull away.
“Sorry, sorry! I just… you weren’t responding, and…” Mirabelle brings her hand back to her side and looks at you, concerned. “Is there anything I can do? To help?”
You don’t deserve need help. But you should say something, before she starts to get even more worried.
“Is it over?” Stars, talking hurts. “We… defeated the King?”
You know the answer already. How many times have you watched Mira deal the final blow? How many times have you seen him fade away, desperate until his final moments to claim any memory of the country you’ve both forgotten?
But it’s not real unless she says it. Unless she knows. Because you‘re lucky enough to remember all the things that never happened and none of the things that did. So blindingly lucky, that all you know is the same two days repeating. Who needs to remember your family or your home or what you did last week? Those aren’t important, right?
“Yeah! We did it!” Mira thinks for a moment, her brief excitement quickly fading. “Do you… not remember?“
Of course you remember. You’d never forget anything important like that. “No, I…just…”
“It is hard to believe, isn’t it? That it’s actually over. All this time, all the traveling, and we won! Vaugarde is saved!” Mirabelle smiles. You didn’t know it was possible for her to not look stressed. “I know… I know I've said it before, but thank you! For coming on this journey with me. For seeing this through until the end.”
Is this the end? You’re still not sure. Maybe you’re dreaming. Maybe this is just some fluke, and the moment you mess things up (like you always do), you’ll find yourself back in the meadow again. Maybe you’ve finally cracked, and this is all a hallucination.
It certainly doesn’t feel like the end. You’d thought that when you finally broke the loops, you’d be happy. Ecstatic, even, that you were free of that torment.
But it’s the day after the end of the world, and all you are is confused. (And exhausted.)
Why now? What did you do differently to make this time stick? Is it because you know about Wish Craft now? But no, that wouldn’t make sense: why would simply knowing about something change anything?
That’s the one thing that changed, this loop, though. You read the books you didn’t understand before, and you all talked about wishes, and the Favor Tree, and how no one else knew the correct way to wish. And then, you all talked about what you wished for, and you thought it was embarrassing but everyone else was sharing their wish and you didn’t have the forethought to make something up, so you did, too, and—
Huh.
Has this been your own fault, all along?
No, no, no, it can’t be your wish. Because why would everything reset when you talked to the Head Housemaiden, then? Why not when one of you left Dormont, when there was no chance of it being fulfilled? Why would you end up in a time loop by wishing to travel with Bonnie?
There has to be something else. You can’t think of anything else right now (you’re too tired to really think), but there has to be something else.
Someone else.
But who?
The only other wishes you know about are those of your family, and there's no way any of them are involved. They didn't even know how to wish properly, for one thing, and their wishes were too commonplace. Normal. Either something small, or a wish that countless other Vaugardians likely shared.
But, now that you're thinking about them…
“Where’s everyone else?” you ask Mirabelle.
“Oh! I can go get them if you want; I know madame Odile wanted to talk to you about yesterday, and I'm sure Isabeau and Bonnie would love to see you as well.
You're not sure exactly what expression passes over your face at the thought of talking about things with Odile, but it makes Mira freeze for a moment before continuing."Or- I can just let you rest, and let them know when they get back?"
You nod. You don't think you'll be able to stay awake much longer, anyway.
"But to answer your question… Odile's spent all day in the House's library, and Bonnie and Isabeau went into Dormont to get some supplies. And I've… been staying here, mostly. We figured you'd appreciate having someone around when you woke up, and…"
Mira sighs. "It's been great, seeing everyone alive and well, but it's… a bit much? Everyone wants to talk to me, or thank me, or help me, and they're all so nice, but… sorry, sorry! I shouldn't be rambling on like this, not when you're not exactly in a condition to leave."
"No, keep going. I don't mind you talking."
"Really? Are you sure?"
You nod. It's nice, to hear her complain about something new.
You snap back into awareness in front of the Change God statues in Dormont’s center.
Without thinking, you bend down near the figurine you like the most, and wish for — no, no, no, this isn’t right.
You shouldn’t be here.
Why are you back?
Weren’t you free? Didn’t you make it out?
You start to laugh. Stars, did you really think it would be so simple? That talking about wishes would do anything, when nothing else did? That you could just stumble into a solution on accident and have it stick?
Stupid blinding idiot, thinking this could have a happy ending. That this could have an ending at all.
But, it’s fine, isn’t it?
You’re fine. Relax. Breathe. Calm down, before anyone notices that something’s wrong with you. Everything’s just gone back to the way it was. And you know this script by heart, after all. You won’t have to worry about forgetting your lines or losing your place.
Besides, isn’t this an opportunity to make sure things go right? You have all the time you need, now, to fine-tune this play of yours. To find the perfect ending.
To make them love you.
And then you can figure out how to escape.
You blink, and you’re standing by Mirabelle, all her attention focused on those bonding profiles of hers. She doesn’t seem to have noticed you yet, so you take a moment to try and compose yourself before making your presence known. Act normal. Don’t let her get worried. Wait for her to say hello first, like she always does.
She doesn’t look up at you.
That’s strange. Did you come here at the wrong moment? Is she too distracted by something? She’s always the one to talk first, right, and you haven’t forgotten something as basic as this?
But you can always break the script, make the first move. “Hey, Mira.”
She doesn’t respond.
“Mira?” you repeat, louder.
Why isn’t she answering you? Why isn’t she talking to you? Does she even know you’re here? Have things gotten worse, and now she’s like the Head Housemaiden, unable to deviate from a few specific lines? Are the loops finally breaking beyond repair, unable to handle you pushing their boundaries?
You don’t understand. And you’re seconds away from leaving, to go find Isabeau or Odile or someone, anyone that you can actually talk to, when she finally notices your presence.
“Hi Siffrin! Do you need anything?” There it is! She missed her cue, but that’s fine. As long as Mirabelle’s still here with you.
As long as she’s — wait.
“Are you okay?”
No, you’re not imagining things.
She’s not talking to you at all, but rather past you, her gaze focused somewhere in the distance. You feel cold. It’s like you’re not even here. Like you’re just another ghost. Like being erased from everyone’s memory just like they’ll someday be erased from yours.
But, if she’s still talking to someone, then…
You turn around.
…
It’s you.
Like looking at your reflection in a mirror.
Is this what Loop saw, looking at—
“Frin! Are you awake?”
You’re broken out of your nightmare to the sound of Bonnie shouting near your ear. They’re loud. Too loud. Which is probably a good thing, because you can disguise the way you instinctively push yourself away from them as panic over being startled and nothing else.
You try to calm your racing heart and collect your thoughts. This is the House’s infirmary. You didn’t loop back. The King is dead. None of that actually happened. It was just a dream. Just a nightmare. Not real, not real, not real.
It’s still hard to breathe.
“Bonnie, you’re going to wake him up!” Mirabelle runs into the room behind them, before suddenly stopping. “Siffrin? Are you alright?”
You freeze. She’s here. She sees you.
“Mira?” You can’t stop your voice from shaking.
“Yes, Siffrin?”
“…Never mind.” All you needed was a response. That’s enough for you, right now.
Mirabelle doesn’t seem to share the same opinion. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”
“Yeah! I’m fine!” You’ve had lots of practice making your smile look convincing.
“If you say so, then—”
“Then we made you soup!” You hadn't noticed before, but Bonnie's holding a large bowl filled nearly to the brim with steaming liquid. "You should eat! So you'll feel better. Soup always makes me feel better when I'm sick."
Does it work that way for you? You don't remember. But you take the bowl from them anyway. It's warmer than you expected, the heat traveling up your arms and chasing away any tension still left from your impromptu awakening.
The soup's some kind of vegetable-rice mixture. You don't think you've ever had this particular blend before, but you've eaten other things similar to it.
It's also the most delicious thing you've ever tasted. Stars, you forgot how good it felt to try something new, rather than the same snacks and meals you’d eaten time and time again. Bonnie may be the most talented cook you know, but even the best food gets stale eventually.
You're halfway through the bowl before you remember to stop and breathe. When you do so, you notice Bonnie staring at you.
When they see you look back, their eyes widen. "So? Do you like it?"
“It’ s incredible, Bonnie.” For once, your smile is genuine.
They beam. "Good! It's a family recipe, you know: Nille makes this for me all the time! So I thought I'd try making it, for…"
They look away. "I hope Nille's okay."
You know your line. "You made this for me?"
"No! I, uh, I…" Bonnie still can't make eye contact with you. "…yeah."
Ah. You’re still hated, then.
Because you didn’t teach them to fight earlier. Because you got tired of hearing the same lines and doing the same things over and over when nothing ever changed. Because you stopped caring about making your family happy when everything was going to get reset anyway.
But… you could go back, if you really wanted to, couldn’t you? Do things right, this time. Promise to protect Bonnie. Reassure Mira that she’s not alone. Talk with Odile about heritage. Watch the stars with Isa. And then bring them all to the end, and escape, like you did yesterday. See! Now that you know there’s an endpoint, going back and trying things again doesn’t seem so scary!
You’d just need to… Well, there shouldn’t be any Tears left now that the King’s gone. And the traps should all be disabled, and there’s no way you’ll be allowed to get in a fight anytime soon. Bonnie might still have some pineapple left, if you ask, and you wouldn’t mind trying it again (even if you could go without re-experiencing the feeling of choking on air).
But… there’s a quicker method, and one that wouldn’t need to involve Bonnie. Without thinking, you shift your gaze to look at a nearby table, and the dagger — your dagger — that rests atop it.
It’d be easy. But you promised Loop you wouldn’t turn your dagger on yourself, after the first time. Before it became a habit. They’d always been good at pulling you away from the edge. Like they knew you better than you did yourself. (Ha.)
…
You never did get to thank them properly for their help.
Besides, you’re not seriously thinking about doing this. Because you know. Someone who's sane, someone who’s normal wouldn't consider slicing their own throat for a chance to go back and convince your allies to like you more. What if you forgot how to change things the right way, and you ended up trapped again?
And you're fine. Everything's fine! You've won, haven't you? You did it! You defeated the King, and now it's the day after, and maybe you don't know what will happen next but at least it's something different, right?
Even if you’re not family.
…
The soup doesn’t taste as good after that.
“— been days, Isabeau. And we haven’t found anything.”
You wake up to hushed voices arguing just outside the entrance to the infirmary.
“Isn’t that a good thing, though? That no one else has been hurt?”
“It is, but… people are starting to get worried. Especially now that no one’s allowed to go near the Favor Tree. No one knows what’s going on! And that’s the scary part. At least with the King… people knew what was coming.”
That’s concerning. Did something happen while you were out? You should probably see what’s going on.
For once, you’re not exhausted from the effort of sitting up, which is nice. But that also means that it’s not until your foot hits the ground that you remember that you still haven’t recovered from nearly being killed by an alternate version of you — a fact that makes itself painfully known as your ankle gives out the moment you put weight on it. Sending you crashing to the floor.
Stars, you’re pathetic. Can’t even stand up properly.
“Sif!”
“Siffrin, are you okay?” Mirabelle rushes into the room, Isabeau and Odile right behind her.
You give them a thumbs-up. “I’m fine! Just tripped.”
She doesn’t look convinced. But you’ve got this. “I do appreciate your concern, though. It’s a-floor-able.”
“Nice one, Sif!” Isabeau laughs, like he always does when you share a pun. That’s part of the reason why you started making them, after all! Because you wanted to manipulate him into liking you.
Mira pouts. “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“It is good to see you awake, Siffrin,” Odile adds. “We all were worried, at first, but you seem to be recovering quite well.”
“Do you need any help getting up?” Isabeau offers you a hand, but you wave it away. You’re not that injured. Even if you’re still unsteady on your feet, you do manage to stand up fully on your own before you sit on the edge of your bed.
Isabeau sits near you, while Mirabelle and Odile continue to stand. The room is silent for a moment before Mira speaks. "So… how are you feeling, today?"
"Doing better, actually." It's not a lie. Your body still aches, and you had struggled a bit to stand up earlier, but it's definitely not as bad as before.
You watch both Isa's and Mira's faces light up when you say that. "Oh, that's wonderful!" Mirabelle says.
"Well, if you really are feeling better, I suppose this is as good a time as any to discuss what exactly happened a few days ago." You recognize the look Odile is giving you from the loops: it's the same one she gave you every time you slipped up and shared knowledge you shouldn't have.
…This isn't going to be a fun conversation.
"What is there to talk about?" You're all fine, after all. The King's gone, and you're together. Isn't that what you all wanted?
Odile stares at you.
You stare back.
“Don’t act clueless. We all know something happened.”
You know. But the problem is that there's nothing there to talk about.
You can't tell them about the loops. That burden is yours and yours alone. If they knew what had happened, if they knew what you'd done, they'd leave you behind.
You won't let that happen. Besides, it's not like they can do anything to help now.
And that means you can't tell them about Loop, either, because how do you explain one without the other? So your only option is to say nothing, and hope they drop this eventually.
“Gems alive, Siffrin. You could start by explaining where and when you learned the forgotten form of Craft that helped us defeat the King.” Odile sighs. “Actually, no, don’t answer that, because honestly it’s the least of our concerns. And, knowing you, you’ll insist that you’ve somehow forgotten."
But you have. You've all forgotten.
"Why don’t you start by explaining why you thought it was a good idea to run off on your own and nearly get yourself killed? After we’d already saved Vaugarde, no less. What was so important that it couldn’t wait until we went back to Dormont together?”
“Does it matter?” You don’t understand why they care so much. You’re alive, and you’re together. That’s what matters.
“Yes???”
“It does, Sif.”
So none of them are on your side. Fine.
“I don’t mind secrets, Siffrin,” Odile says. “But when someone I care about gets hurt because of one, I will do anything to get answers. It’d be so much easier to do so if you would just talk to us.”
“We’re here to help!” Mirabelle adds. “I know… you don’t like to talk about these kinds of things, but this isn’t something we can just ignore.”
“Siffrin.” You can tell Isabeau’s serious when he uses your full name. “If we hadn’t decided to come after you, you’d probably be dead right now.”
You wouldn’t, actually. You’d just end up back in Dormont, back in your own personal hell. Not that anyone else knows that. (And they'll never know, because you won't let them.)
So…
You need a distraction. A pun, a joke, anything to keep them from seeing past your facade to the real you.
…
They’re all staring at you.
You can’t think of anything.
Have the loops taken this from you, too? First your home, your heritage, your childhood, and now the Universe thinks you should lose the only part of your identity you chose to create?
Loop was right. You're just some empty copy of the Siffrin they all used to love.
"Siffrin…" Mira sounds unsure of herself.
You look down at the floor, away from any of them. "I don't want to talk about this." You don't deserve their concern. You don't want their pity. You want to leave this all behind you.
Your hands ball into fists at your side.
"M'dame, maybe we should listen to him. Let Sif talk when he's ready." Which'll be never, but you'd take anything that gets you out of here.
"Isabeau, we can't do that. What if someone else gets attacked next? What if Boniface was the next person to get hurt?"
“They would never do that!” If you know anything about Loop, it's that. They could never hurt Bonnie. You could never hurt Bonnie, not by choice.
Too late, you realize that everyone else heard your outburst, too.
"So you did know your attacker." Of course Odile immediately puts things together. "Was it someone in Dormont? But we'd only been here a couple days, and I don't recall you spending much time talking to people…"
No, no, no, you have to stop her.
She can't figure it out. She can't know. You can't let her know.
Because it's you. It all comes back to you. It's always been you.
It was your wish. It was your fault that you got trapped. It was your fault for missing all the keys, for letting them die, for manipulating them and lying to them and guiding them in all the wrong directions. And you can't let them know any of that, because then they'll hate you and they'll leave you and you'll go back and you don't want to go back and—
You feel pressure.
Someone’s… draped a blanket around your shoulders?
“Sif! Can you hear me?"
Everything around you feels fuzzy and out of focus. Even the voices of your family are distant and muted.
"Sif, just breathe. Try and focus on that, okay?"
But you can hear them, still.
You breathe. Each inhale makes the world around you a bit more solid, slightly more real. The taste of burnt sugar on your tongue fades so quickly that you can’t tell if it was actually there or just another echo of the loops.
"You back with me, Sif?"
You blink, which lets you see clearly for the first time in what feels like forever.
Isabeau's standing in front of you, his hands hovering awkwardly like he doesn't know what to do wtih them. Odile and Mirabelle are nowhere to be seen.
"That's it. Can you say something? Talk to me?" He's so gentle, treating you like you're a piece of glass ready to break at the slightest inconvenience.
Maybe it'd be better for him if he let you shatter.
You're too selfish to let that happen. "Something." you say.
He laughs, tiredly, and then sighs. "That conversation… could have gone better."
You don't say anything.
"You know m'dame's only worried about you, right? She still shouldn't have pushed you so hard, but… you are going to have to talk about this eventually."
Silence, still.
You don't know what to say.
It was a lot easier, when you were in the loops. When you had a goal to guide you and a script to follow.When none of their suspicion, none of your mistakes would ever last for more than a day. When you knew what to expect, and were comforted by the safety of repetiion.
All that's behind you, though. You have so much to look forward to! Traveling with allies who can never understand you. Avoiding conversations until they stop trying. Saying goodbye when you reach Bambouche, and becoming an aimless traveler once again.
…
Maybe being in the loops wasn't so bad, after all.
Notes:
The hardest part about this is probably trying to come up with the puns, surprisingly.
Chapter Text
You can't recall the last time you got a full, uninterrupted night of sleep.
In the days before you fought the King, you'd been too worried about the future to rest well. Preparing to fight the false monarch with power enough to bring an entire country to its knees is one thing, but actually doing so is a much more daunting task. Especially when all of Vaugarde is relying on you and a few of your friends. (To tell the truth, you hadn't been very confident in your ability to win. But admitting to that fear would have almost certainly doomed you all.)
Right after, you'd been too worried about Siffrin to be successful at much of anything: finding fitful rest by their bedside when you couldn't find sleep alone, then picking up their habit of napping during the day. And now that Sif's recovered enough to move into your shared room instead of the infirmary, well, he's added a new disruptive factor to your sleeping habits.
Tonight's interruption comes as the sound of rustled blankets, followed by footsteps — just barely loud enough to rouse you from unconsciousness.
By the time you're awake enough to be aware of your surroundings, you can only barely make out the figure of Sif standing by the door, their darkless hair almost seeming to glow where it reflects the dim moonlight. And then, they're gone, vanishing through the now-open doorway like a ghost haunting the House.
In the middle of the night. When there's no logical reason for them to be wandering about.
There's a reason you and Mira keep not-quite-joking about being on "Siffrin duty". Even if it means you're going to have trouble falling back asleep.
Luckily for you, it doesn't take long to spot them, despite the way their lightless sleepwear blends into the shadows. Unluckily for you, it does take a while for you to catch up to them, with the way they're swiftly navigating through hallways like they have a clear purpose in mind.
And yet, you're pretty sure this is the third time you've passed this particular classroom.
When they stop abruptly, mere centimeters from crashing into a wall, you take that as your cue to talk. "Sif?" you call out, hesitantly. He doesn't respond, but he doesn't continue moving, either.
As you walk closer, you can hear him mumbling something under his breath, but you can't make out words. "Siffrin!" you repeat, slightly louder.
They whip around, eye wide, before settling into a fighting stance as they brandish their dagger—
"—hey, Sif, wait—"
—and then a moment later, they lower their guard and drop their hands to their side as they realize it's only you.
"Isa?" His voice is unsteady, as he struggles to catch his breath. Their eye darts from you to the hallway around you. "What are you doing here?"
Honesty's probably the best play here. "You woke me up; I wanted to make sure you were doing alright."
"Oh." Siffrin looks towards the floor. "I'm fine. Just… needed some air."
You don't buy that for a second. "Bad dream?" They've been having those all too often, these past few days.
"I… yeah," he admits, still refusing to make eye contact with you. "But I'll be fine. You didn't need to come after me."
"I did, actually."
"Why?" Sif makes the question sound so straight-forward. Like they genuinely don't know why one of their friends would want to check in with them when they've been having nightmares near-daily.
"Because I care about you." Even if you're still unwilling to admit how much you care. "And because you're still recovering from the last time you wandered off on your own."
You can see Sif try to duck his face under the hat he's not currently wearing in an attempt to hide. It doesn't work.
"And," you add, trying (and probably failing) to inject a hint of levity into your voice, "you're going to give some poor Housemaiden a fright if they find you like this. Why do you even have your dagger on you, anyway?"
Siffrin looks down towards their hand, as if only now realizing what they're holding. They shrug. "Grabbed it when I left."
"Sif… you know the House is safe, right? Now that the King's gone, and all the remaining Sadnesses have been cleared out." You can't really blame him for not feeling that way, though. You both came to this House to fight, and well, considering everything Sif's gone through, he's got even more of a right to want some measure of protection. "But, if it makes you feel better to have it, just be careful, alright? If you pull your dagger on the wrong person, you might really scare them."
Or hurt them, you do not say.
Siffrin doesn't respond for a moment, still looking away from you. "You're not scared of me, though." It's a statement, not a question, but you still feel compelled to answer.
"No?" Scared for Siffrin, absolutely. Scared of him? You're not sure that could ever happen. Not Sif. Not your friend, who goes out of his way to make you laugh with his puns and jokes. Who's always there to lend a helping hand. Who keeps reminding you of all the ways in which you love him, each and every day.
"You should be."
They take a step closer to you, and then another, before finally looking up and meeting your gaze for the first time all conversation. It feels almost threatening, as if they're daring you to pull back or admit that you were wrong. There's a shadow under their eye that you haven't notice before, and you're suddenly reminded that this is also the person who faced the most powerful Crafter in Vaugarde and won (although the same could be said about you). Who's capable of slicing through Sadnesses in a single blow. Who's willing to tear himself apart to protect you all from the secrets he's unwilling to share.
You also realize that, as much as you'd rather not admit it, Siffrin looks really pretty when they're like this. Hopefully it's dark enough that they can't see the way your cheeks burn.
But you can't look away. Neither can he. And for a moment, any passing onlooker might have been convinced that the two of you had ended up frozen in time.
Then that moment passes, and Siffrin blinks, and you hear the faint echo of their footsteps as they stumble backwards. "We should head back," they say, before immediately turning to walk away.
You, on the other hand, take a while longer to recover, barely managing to get your legs moving just before he vanishes around a corner.
And from there, all you can do is follow.
Your walk back to your shared room is silent, and before you know it, you find yourself in an all-too-familiar situation. It's the same as last night: Siffrin, in their bed, their knees pulled up to their chest underneath a blanket. You, sitting at the other end (next to where his feet would be if he didn't insist on curling in on himself) and looking back at him.
"Do you want to talk about it?" you ask, as you did the night before. Even though you already know the answer, some part of you hopes that things might go differently this time.
They don't look at you, burying their head in their arms. "It's just a nightmare. What's there to talk about?"
"Sif." It's not just about the nightmare, and you both know that. "You can't keep bottling up your emotions like this. I know it's hard, but opening up about things is going to help, I promise."
"I'm fine."
How many times have you heard that before? "Yeah, I'm not sure you saying that more often is going to make me believe it." You sigh. "I'm just worried about you. We all are. And I know we've been through a lot in these last couple weeks, and it's okay if you want to share things on your own time, but shutting us out isn't going to make things better. So, I'll ask again. Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Are you sure? It doesn't have to be about tonight. Just, something. Please."
"Isa, stop," Sif hisses, in that tone of voice that you've come to learn means he's about to start folding in on himself. It hurts, every time, when one of you pushes a bit too hard. When they go glassy-eyed and distant, and then someone (usually you) has to coax them out of the turmoil of their own mind. You've seen them fall into their own head before, but ever since you all went to the House together, it's felt different. Like he's trapping himself in his thoughts, rather than losing himself in them.
And you still don't know why.
You've been helping m'dame look into the Favor Tree incident, when she's not trying to learn more about Wish Craft, and yet neither of you have found anything notable. She's got theories, too, about what happened (almost all of them sound far-fetched, but so does your reality, sometimes), but you're starting to think your only means of finding out the truth will be through Siffrin.
Which won't happen tonight. You're smart enough to know that much.
"Alright, then," you say. "I'll stop." Trying to force Siffrin to talk will only end up making things worse for both of you. "Just, think about it, okay? We want to help. All of us."
In some other version of this conversation, you might have followed that up with a joke — something to diffuse the tension (or maybe just to see Sif laugh). But tonight, all you can think about is Odile, throwing herself into new research. Bonnie, who's only talked to Siffrin that one time since the incident. Mirabelle, blaming herself for not being stronger. And it's a lot harder to smile and laugh things off than it used to be.
In a moment of impulse, you instinctively reach out for Sif — before almost immediately pulling your hand back to land closer to the side of the bed instead. You should be smarter than this! You know Sif doesn't like to be touched! At least you made a clean recovery — or so you think, until you look back at Siffrin to see them staring at your hand, their face almost entirely hidden in a mess of hair.
And you remember the last time the two of you were this close: the day you defeated the King.
"You don't want to touch me," they whisper, nestled into your arms, injured and weak and more importantly not pulling away.
You haven't asked him what he meant since, for fear of what he might tell you. Because you're a coward, who doesn't want to find out you were wrong about your assumptions. Because there has to be some kind of miscommunication here. You want to hope it's the easy answer — that Sif was just rambling some nonsense in their injury-induced delirium — but when have things ever been so simple for you?
You take a deep breath in, and then— "Actually," you say, before you can talk yourself out of this, "can we talk about something?"
Sif looks up at you, facial expression unreadable until it shifts into a slight, teasing smile. "Haven't we been doing that already?"
It's not an answer, but it's not a no, either. "Yeah, I guess, but like, an actual talk. About something different. We- we can do this in the morning, if you'd prefer? So you can get some rest? But it can also be now, if you're feeling up to—"
"Is this about what you promised you'd tell me, after we defeated the King?"
Crab.
Any trace of Siffrin's hesitance from earlier is gone, wiped away by the way they straighten up and stare directly back at you, hopeful. It's honestly quite adorable, actually: you'd be so much happier to see it if the context was literally anything other than this.
"N-no! Not that! Something else!" That particular talk is something that won't be happening for a while. You can't have that talk now. Not when you have other feelings talks to get through and Sif needs the comfort of friends who are willing to support him and overcomplicating things with emotional confessions won't make all this any easier to get through. (Maybe you're merely justifying your cowardice. And yet, there's truth behind your beliefs, too.)
Siffrin's face drops when you deflect his question, but that's not surprising. You're very aware of how frustrating it is to know that someone's keeping secrets from you. To know that there's something they should tell you but that they refuse to admit.
Sif's not the one who needs to be more open right now, though. "It's just… you said something, when we found you by the Favor Tree, and I realized we hadn't really ever had an actual conversation about that, and I know you were injured and probably delirious and it probably doesn't mean anything but I wanted to check in with you and—"
"Isa." You stop rambling the instant they speak up. "What did I say?"
You take a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. "You said, um, that you thought I didn't want to touch you, which… you know that's not true, right?"
The silence answers your question for them. Your heart sinks.
"Well, uh, you know now! We just… noticed you jump when we tried it and so we assumed you didn't want it and we didn't want to make a big deal about it so we didn't say anything and— that was a mistake, wasn't it. I'm sorry."
Sif somehow manages to curl further into himself than he has all night, pulling away from you, but they still don't say anything.
You don't know what to say, either.
How do you apologize for this, for letting your friend get so caught up in their own head that they thought you were avoiding them on purpose (because you didn't like them, didn't want them, as if you ever could)? And since it's Siffrin, it's so much worse. Not just because you love him, and every time you realize how little you actually know about him, it hurts a little bit more. You also don't know how to help.
If you were talking to Mira, this'd be the point where you'd pull her into a hug and tell her that everything was going to turn out alright. But… as much as you want to do the same for Sif, you know. You've seen the way he flinches when you brush against him, the way he pulls back when an outstretched hand gets too close. It's true, that you try not to touch him, but it's always been for his own sake. It's because you love him, because you care, that you can't get too close.
(But Siffrin's changed, from the person you arrived in Dormont with. You're not sure if it's a capital-C Change yet, but you can tell that things are different. So it's hard to say anything's for certain with Sif, now.)
(You've changed, too, or at least you're starting to. Your boisterous airhead facade's been slipping — getting harder to keep up with each passing day — and you're still figuring out how you feel about that. It's been something you'd been thinking about, even before you made it to Dormont: that you wanted to Change again, once you all went your separate ways. To be someone smarter, someone new, someone who wasn't just on the team as muscle.)
(And… maybe you should have Changed sooner, you're starting to wonder, before you even made it to the King. Because Isabeau hasn't been able to help Sif. Maybe someone else could have.)
You focus back on Siffrin, who's now turned away from you, their legs swung out over the side of their bed, facing your room's sole window and staring out at the stars. What exactly he sees in them, you've never quite understood.
"Sif, buddy, talk to me. Please," you plead. "Let me know what's going on in that head of yours."
You barely hear Sif start to speak, at first. "I- I don't mind it. Touch, that is." He's still looking away from you. You can't stop looking at him. "I'm just not used to it, and it takes me off guard, I think."
Oh.
Oh no.
That's… you didn't think this situation could get any worse.
It was bad enough, realizing that you'd convinced Sif that your attempts at making him more comfortable were instead a way of shutting him out. But this? "All this time?" You can barely get the words out. And you wanted him to talk, earlier.
"…yeah."
All this time. They wouldn't have minded, if you'd pulled them into group hugs alongside Mira and Bonbon. They wouldn't have minded, if you'd tried to reassure them with a pat on the shoulder. They wouldn't have minded, if you'd been the one to reach out to them, as you'd wanted to do so. many. times. And you took that away from them. "And you didn't say anything. Because you thought we were doing it on purpose."
"I'm sorry."
"Sif, no, what are you apologizing for? I- I should be the one apologizing to you!" You're the one who messed this up.
"But it's- it's not your fault! You didn't know! I wasn't even really aware of it, before…"
"Siffrin." You can see them jump when you use their full name, and they finally turn to look at you, confused.
It's strange, how being around Sif can make you feel like a scared little kid again. Too afraid to say anything, because you've never known what the right thing to say is. Because you're terrified of making things worse. Because you were like Siffrin, once, unable to speak up when people misunderstood you. You can't be that any longer.
Slowly, you reach out your hands, making sure to leave him enough space to pull back if he's not comfortable. Siffrin's eye darts between you and your outstretched hands, before abruptly widening as they realize what you're offering.
"I- I can't go back in time and fix things," you say. Sif laughs at that, although you weren't making a joke. "But I'm here for you now."
And you wait. And you hope, that they're willing to reach out, too. To do what that younger version of you never could.
And just when you're starting to doubt yourself, doubt that he wants this, too, he moves,reaching out to slot their hands in yours. You feel, more than hear, his sharp intake of breath as you make contact, your larger hands closing aroung his smaller ones.
As far as physical contact goes, this isn't exactly the most exciting experience. For one thing, Sif's wearing his gloves (when he started wearing them to sleep, you're not quite sure), keeping you from making direct skin-to-skin contact. And for you, holding hands isn't exactly a novel concept, considering how often you've found your hand intertwined with one of Mirabelle's or Bonnie's.
But it's Siffrin, which makes everything more meaningful. You're all too aware of the way your heart beats faster and your hands start to sweat (good thing for those gloves, then) and you have to focus on making sure you don't squeeze too hard. For them, this might be the most touch they've gotten in who knows how long. And for you, being careful means you won't feel tempted to reach for more, to pull them closer, to let him know just how much he means to you — you need to take it slow.
As you brush the tips of your fingers against the sliver of bare skin where Sif's shirt doesn't quite reach his gloves, you hear his breath stutter and feel him tense up slightly. Your gaze drifts up from your hands to their face just in time to see their eye slip shut. It's very cute, actually, the way they relax into your touch, almost leaning into it. You can tell they're thinking about something from the way their brow furrows, but, for once, they don't seem to be hurting as much as they have been. Like the comfort of having you there with him is actually helping.
A single tear begins to trail down Sif's cheek, falling from the corner of his good eye. Without realizing it, you let go of one of his hands so you can reach for him, pulling yourself closer as you do so. And then—
For a moment, you hesitate, not knowing what to do next. Are you reaching for their shoulder? Their cheek? Their face? Is this too much — crab, are you going to overwhelm them? Will this be too much?
It's just a moment of hesitation. But it's long enough.
Sif's eye snaps open, taking in the situation, and everything goes wrong. You don't have time to react before he's tugged his hands away, scrambling backwards on the bed, face flushed and panicked.
Crab. "Hey, Sif, buddy! It's okay! Just… breathe? With me?" You take in a deep, shaky breath, holding it for a moment as you wait for them to copy you. When they do, your exhale is more a sigh of relief than anything else. You didn't lose them completely, at least.
Slowly, the two of you calm each other down, breathing in sync. You're the first to speak, once your heart stops pounding so furiously in your chest. "How are you feeling? Doing alright?"
"I'm fine," Sif replies, too quickly.
You raise an eyebrow. "You sure? You didn't look like you were fine, earlier."
"I'm fine. Just got startled a bit." They look away. "Nothing you need to worry about."
You're going to worry about him anyway. But… now that the excitement of earlier has faded, you're really starting to feel the exhaustion that comes from being woken up far too early. You don't think either of you can handle much more, tonight.
Which means you're not going to fight him any further. "If you say so, then… Goodnight, Sif."
Even once you're back in your own bed, you wait until you can hear their breath even out before letting yourself rest.
Notes:
finished writing this at two in the morning (honestly, quite fitting considering when this chapter takes place) so hopefully i don't regret ending this where i did later.
where did my short, simple interlude chapter go. what happened to you.
also! thank you all for reading and/or commenting! i genuinely didn't expect this particular au to attract the interest that it has, but i'm excited to share what i have planned with y'all!
Chapter Text
When you don't know what to do next, you go to the Favor Tree.
It’s almost instinct, at this point. Take a left right by the Change God statues when coming up from the meadow House as you make your way through Dormont. Ignore any of the welcoming waves or kind words sent your way (they won’t remember anyway) (and besides, you’ll loop back be leaving soon enough).
You only stop momentarily to turn towards Isabeau — who's not there, you know, because you're free you're free you're free — and then you catch yourself, because you don’t want any observers thinking you’re even crazier than they already think you are. You don't wait for him to touch you. You don't have to anymore! And all you had to do was get him to pity you enough!
(If only he knew what you’d done here, how you’d snapped and taken matters into your own hands and pushed too far, too much, too fast. Then he’d never want to touch you again.)
The Favor Tree looms overhead, some of its branches reaching almost low enough to touch the grass. As you step closer, the rest of the world seems to fade away. It's nearly as dark as night underneath, and when the wind rustles the branches just so, the pinpricks of light that make it through the leaves almost look like stars.
(A pale imitation, though, you think. And then: did Loop ever notice that?)
No one greets you as you settle into your favorite spot atop one of the Favor Tree's roots. No one waves hello. No one's there to watch you trace a pattern into the dirt with the tip of your boot, or offer advice that only ever felt helpful in hindsight, or reach out to touch your hand when the rest of the world had convinced you that you weren't there weren't living weren't real.
But none of that should be surprising. After all, you were only ever talking to yourself here.
And now even that's gone.
Loop's gone.
You’d tried to call them, the first night you’d been conscious and awake and on your own. You’d hoped and prayed and wished for someone, anyone to answer, and all you’d gotten in return was static and a blinding headache. Your sponsor, your friend, your other half — whatever you’re supposed to call them now, they vanished from your life just as swiftly as they'd entered it.
If it weren't for the second silver coin tucked safely away in the pocket closest to your heart (Odile had found it afterwards, and assumed that it was yours), you wouldn't have any proof that they'd existed at all. (You have your memories of Loop, but you of all people know how easily those can be taken away. If you could forget your country, your culture, your home — who's to say you couldn't forget them, too?)
That's not the only thing they'd left behind, though. As you sit under the tree, enjoying the fresh air after days spent cooped up in Dormont's House, you absentmindedly brush a hand against your neck. The bruises Loop had left there have since faded, but you don't think you'll ever forget the feeling of hands tightening squeezing stealing the air from your lungs and the life from your body.
You'd tried to fight them off, fruitlessly (since, for once, you weren't choking on pineapple) struggling for one more breath. It hadn't worked. You'd been too tired. Too weak. Too overwhelmed. Too unwilling to actually hurt Loop after they'd done so much to help you escape. In those final moments, you'd been terrified — not of dying, but of what might come after. Would this finally be the end for you? Or would you wake up in the meadow once more?
And then they'd stopped, before you'd have gotten to find out. By the time you realized that they'd let you go — before your eyes could make out anything that wasn't blurry shapes, before your lungs stopped desperately screaming for air, before your heart calmed its pounding in your ears enough for you to hear anything else — they had already fled.
You still don't know why.
What made them let go, when they'd started lashing out at you the moment they'd realized what you being back at the Favor Tree meant? You don't have to wonder why they'd tried to kill you — if anything, they'd been too nice during the loops. Too willing to help, too willing to give advice (despite it mostly being bad advice), too willing to support the duplicate that had taken their role and their lines and their spot on the stage.
Now you'll never know, because they'd left you behind. You'd barely gotten to talk with them at all, outside of the jabs and insults they'd thrown your way between all the physical attacks. You hadn't gotten to thank them for everything they'd done for you. (Without their help, you'd have lost the will to keep going loops ago.)
They'd just left you behind, to take their place. An understudy, thrust into the starring role. It's not fair, that you're the only one here when they're the only reason you made it this far to begin with. But when has anything in your life ever been fair?
…
You want them to be here with you. You'd wish for it, too, if the last wish you made here didn't go so horribly wrong.
They're not, though.
And you can't change that. So there's only one last thing left to do. (You're not sure how you know this, but if you think about that too hard you're scared you'll wind up forgetting it entirely.)
Loop had asked you, once, who you thought they were. You hadn't known the answer, but you'd made your best guess anyway: perhaps they were a ghost. It would certainly have explained why they didn't seem to have a life outside of you. How they never seemed to leave the tree, How they refused to be seen by anyone else even when your allies would have made for much better conversation partners.
At the time, they'd given you yet another of their half-answers, claiming you were neither right nor wrong. But you know the truth, now.
You were right, even though neither of you had known it at the time. They're gone, the Favor Tree now truly their grave. A part of them had died a long time ago, their own loops changing them past what they could bear to live with.
And… when you visit a grave, you're supposed to leave something behind. Something important, with memories attached for both you and them. There's only the one choice, when you think about it. One thing that stayed with you throughout every loop.
You pull out your own silver coin and place it on the tree root where Loop used to sit before returning to your own spot.
"Thank you, Loop. I'm sorry things had to turn out this way. And… I'll miss you."
Despite the teasing, despite their taunts, despite the way they tried to kill you and how they dragged you off on that one loop to witness your family's deaths at the hands of the King, you really will. It was nice, to have someone who understood. Someone who you could talk to. Someone who you didn't feel like you had to hide from, even after the pressure of the loops got worse and worse.
You're starting to miss the loops, too. Even though you know you shouldn't, as if even considering the possibility might trap you in that endless cycle of fighting and dying again, again, again, you still do. You'd gotten used to the routine, the consistency, the safety of knowing exactly what happens next. If you went back, you could fix all your mistakes. Make sure everyone is happy. Live through your perfect ending.
And back then, you'd had Loop, there to remind you that even when you got lonely, you were never alone. (If you found a way to loop back, would they return, too?)
You don't want to go back, though. You can't. You won't. There's so much to lose, and so little to gain. You wouldn't know the warmth of Isa's hands as he looks at you like you're something worth caring about. You wouldn't know the taste of Bonnie's experiments in Ka Buan cooking; some are unusual and strange but all of them are new. You wouldn't know the hope of having a future to look forward to again, of the weeks you'll have together as you all travel to Bambouche.
Once you reach Bambouche — it's hard to know what will happen then. But that's something you can worry about later! Since you have time, before—
"Siffrin!"
—before you expected anyone else to come out here, apparently.
You look in the direction of the voice and immediately spot Mira, her darkless dress fluttering behind her as she runs toward you. “There you are!” she shouts. As she gets closer, you can see that she's winded from the effort of getting here — and how she fidgets with one of the teardrops pinned beneath her brooch.
"Is everything okay?" Seeing Mirabelle nervous about something isn't exactly unusual, but she wouldn't have come all the way out here to find you for no reason, right?
She shakes her head. "No, no, everything's fine! I was just trying to find you, and then Isabeau said he thought you were with Odile, but then she thought you were spending time with him, and Bonnie didn't know anything, and—" Mira pauses to catch her breath "—and I was starting to get worried! Especially since the last time you went off on your own, you…" You don't need to be as perceptive as Odile to know she's talking about the last time you'd met beneath the Favor Tree.
"I'm okay, Mira. Just wanted a bit of time to myself."
"I know! I can see that now! But you're still recovering from a lot, and you're not supposed to be using Craft yet, and… I'm allowed to be concerned about my friends, aren't I?" Her smile is like sunlight, bright and warm and energizing. You're not sure you deserve it.
But you don't dwell on that thought any further, because Mira also said that… "You were looking for me?"
"Oh! Yes! Euphrasie — the Head Housemaiden here, you've met her — wanted to meet with you before we leave for Bambouche!" (It's all over when you talk to her. You don't want this to be over.) "She said to just stop by her office whenever you're free during the day."
"Anything else?" You don't mean to be so dismissive, but it's hard not having your script to guide you anymore. Those well-worn paths shaped from loops of repetition have been replaced with cliffs of unfamiliarity, and every misstep brings you closer to the edge. When the light in Mirabelle's eyes dims, you have to hold yourself back from zoning out until you can run off and fling yourself into the nearest Tear. (Even now, you still want to fall back on old habits, to manipulate every question and every response to make sure they like you.)
Mirabelle's not aware of any of that, though, as she looks down and scuffs a mark in the dirt with her shoe. "A-and I wanted to check in on you? But yeah… that's all. Unless you needed something else?"
You can fix this. "Thank you for letting me know, Mira. I'll be sure to stop by later." Maybe. If you can work up the courage to go. (You've seen enough of the Head Housemaiden for several lifetimes.) You could always claim that you'll have forgotten, the next time she asks — or maybe you'll actually forget, because that's a thing that you do.
"Okay!" Mira's voice is bright, so you'll count that as a success. "Well, that was all I came out here to do, so… I should probably get back to the House."
"See you later, then!"
Mira turns back toward Dormont before starting her walk back. She only makes it a couple steps in, however, before she abruptly stops and looks back over her shoulder at you. "Actually… can I stay out here for a bit?"
You might have come out here for some time on your own, but you'd never say no to spending more time with Mira, so you immediately nod.
Instead of taking a seat atop one of the many tree roots jutting out of the ground, she chooses to sit on the grass and rest her back against a tree root. She's just close enough to you that the ends of her curls brush against your cloak.
"So, what brings you to the Favor Tree?" Mira asks, once she's gotten herself situated.
"It's quiet." Almost too quiet, you don't say. It's weird, being here without Loop around.
Mira laughs. "It's a nice place for that! Most people don't come here unless they're making a wish — something about it being a change from their everyday routine, you know? But when I was younger, back when I first started living at the House, I… may have made a habit out of running away for a bit when things got too overwhelming?"
That sounds like something you would do. Not her.
"And sometimes I came here! It's a bit far from the House, but it's not like there aren't reasons to visit the actual village of Dormont, and it was a good spot to get my thoughts in order. Also, I was a lot younger then! I haven't thought about it in a while!" Mira looks away from you. "Well, except…"
"Are you alright?"
Mira shakes her head. "It's nothing! You don't need to worry about me!"
It doesn't sound like nothing. "Mira. You came out here for a reason, didn't you?"
She sighs. "You're right. But are you sure I'm not bothering you?"
You shake your head. You like helping your friends! Especially now that it's not with the same problems, over and over again.
"It's just… it's a lot, being around everyone again now that I've been traveling with you all for months. I know part of it's just adjusting to everyone not being frozen in time anymore, but it all feels so different now. Even my old friends are acting like I'm someone new, rather than the same old Mirabelle I've always been."
She's changed quite a bit since you've gotten to know her, you think. But you don't know if that's what she wants to hear, so you stay silent. Don't push things. You can't reset anymore.
"And," Mira continues, "it's not anyone else's fault. Everyone's the same person they were when I left, because of the King. They've all been frozen in time, so… it has to be me. I'm the piece that doesn't fit anymore." She looks up at you, and it's hard not to hide away from the direct eye contact. "Is it something similar, for you?"
What. "What?"
"With the King, and saving Vaugarde, and everything else that's happened in the past few days! I don't think I entirely understand what happened, but… you've been acting differently, ever since."
Is… is she talking about the loops? But she can't know; there's no way she could — Mirabelle was never the one suspicious of you before, and — and you didn't do anything too out of the ordinary this last time, besides reading all those books and that one conversation you're trying not to think too hard about. Still…
"It's not the same thing, I know, because I've been traveling for months and you were off on your own for only a few hours at most." You try not to audibly sigh in relief. "And you're also still recovering from your injuries, so of course you'd be a little bit off! Even so… it's more than that, isn't it?"
"Mira, I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me."
"No, you're not!" The sudden intensity in Mirabelle's voice makes you jump. "Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't yell. But everything's not fine. We still don't know anything about who attacked you, and you've been so distant, and you don't joke around as much anymore, and… and I'm worried! About you! We all are!"
You won, though? And it's not like Loop's going to come back and finish the job, and… are you really so different? That they've noticed? They pay enough attention to you to notice? And… "I thought you didn't like my puns."
"What?" Mirabelle glares at you. "No, I… what does that have to do with anything?"
Oh, you've got this. You pick a stray leaf off the ground. "I can't be-leaf this. Knew you'd come around eventually."
"Siffrin." She snatches the leaf from your hand and sets it down on the ground. Okay, maybe not the time. "Glad to see you're feeling better now, but can we have a serious conversation? Please?"
Well, that was a mistake. Time to— no, wait, you can't reset like that anymore. You're trapped. Stars, you'd prefer having a script for this.
"Anyway… you do know you can talk to me about anything, right? Me, or madame Odile, or Isabeau, or… actually, probably not Bonnie, but the rest of us are here for you! Because we want to make sure you're happy!"
It's not the first time you've heard this from Mirabelle. Last time, it was because she was worried about dating and not wanting to Change in all the ways people expected her to. But this version of her has already talked to you about that? So it has to be something else. "Is something wrong?"
"Huh?" Mirabelle tilts her head. "Did the whole 'I'm worried about you' thing go over your head?"
Okay, you're confused, too. "I…"
"Yes, something's wrong! You're acting weird! And I just wish you'd talk to someone about everything, before you let it spiral into something worse!" Her eyes shine with the same determination she has right before she defeats the King. Even if it doesn't make sense. All she's talking about here is you.
"Because I know how it feels! To be hiding something, afraid of what will happen if anyone — even the people you're closest to — finds out! It's what I had to do, when everyone got convinced that the Change God was the one who blessed me! Because if I told anyone, people would start to lose hope. Maybe, if you or madame or Isabeau found out… you'd leave me. So I couldn't say anything, because there's no way I could have done it all on my own!"
Mira sighs. "If I could go back, though… it all feels so silly now. I can't speak for all of Vaugarde, but… you all wouldn't have abandoned me. I should have trusted you. Maybe then…" She stops, and glances over at you. "Oh! Is this too much! I'm sorry, if it is! I know you prefer your privacy! Also, I'm sure the others have been asking you questions, too. And I don't want to overwhelm you or anything!"
Something in your chest aches. She felt like that? Too?
"I know… I haven't done the best job at trying to reach out to you in the past, so… if you don't trust me enough to talk about this, that's fine too." You trust her. More than you trust yourself. That's the problem. "But I felt like I had to say something. So…"
All you can do is watch as Mira turns to face you, hope shining in her eyes as she extends a hand out to you. It'd be so easy to take it. "Is there anything that's bothering you?"
Part of you wants to tell her. You want to tell her that you understand.
But you can't. Because you don't know the script you don't know what to say you can't let anyone know. You can't lose this. And you know they won't react well, after learning how you manipulated them.
But you can't. Because even without her blessing, even without being chosen by the Change God, she's still Mirabelle. She's still so brave, so kind, so unwavering in her conviction to do what's right. What do you have to offer, that'll make keeping you around worth the burden of the truth?
"Mira."
"Yes?" She looks so excited. Your hands clench into fists.
"I can't." And as quickly as it started, the light in her eyes goes out. "But it's… it's not you. I promise. It's just- it's not you."
"Oh." You don't like seeing Mirabelle this upset. "Do you… do you still need time to figure things out on your own?"
It's a good enough excuse as any. You nod.
"That works too, then!" If only things were that easy. But it's good enough for Mira (you just want them all to be happy). "Just… feel free to come to me! Whenever you want to talk! And don't forget that we're all here to help you if you need it!"
You don't need help, but… "I'll keep that in mind."
Mira smiles. "Thanks. For that, and… for everything you've done."
…
Neither of you know what to say, after that. It's a comfortable silence, though, in a way that the two of you hadn't been able to share before.
It'd been hard to find a chance to just relax: even when you took breaks, you couldn't escape the burden of your rapidly approaching fight against the King: the end of your journey. Mirabelle, in particular, had struggled with the stress of all of Vaugarde's hope placed upon her shoulders. (And there was still that looming fear — that they'd find out, that they'd leave you behind, of what would happen after this second journey ended — but right now, you were free. Right now, they cared.)
For a little while, you and Mira can simply enjoy the peace and quiet: hear the birds chirp and the leaves rustle in the wind, smell the faint scent of smoke from someone cooking, watch the sun begin to set on the horizon. Then she speaks up. "Do you have something like the Favor Trees, where you're from?"
"Huh? Why do you ask?"
"I was just thinking? Because you've come here often enough, that it seems important to you?" Mira's rushing through the words fast enough that she starts to stumble over them. "And then you knew how to wish properly, when none of us did! And, so, well, I don't… really know anything about where you grew up, but it seems like? It's a tradition there, too?"
Was that a thing?
You wouldn't know.
"Oh, is that a bad topic, too?" Mira watches you carefully, until she spots in your expression that makes her look away. "I'm sorry for bringing it up: you probably don't talk much about your past for a reason, right?"
Of course you didn't. If the topic never came up, you could still pretend that you were normal. But you can't tell Mira about that, either.
"It's not… it's just… I don't think it works that way?" Maybe an explanation will distract her. "The Favor Trees have some power, but it's not like they're that important. Besides, regardless, it's getting the ritual right that really matters, more than the location. Making sure the Universe hears your request."
You glance over at Mira, hoping some of her concern has melted away. She blinks back at you, utterly lost. "The Universe?" she asks. "Who's that?"
Stars, you'd forgotten. (Like you forget everything.) Why'd you think this was a good idea?
Did you want another painful reminder that no one else remembers anything about your faith? Did you think giving Mirabelle an opportunity to question you further would turn out well?
It's all gone. It's all forgotten. Even what little you know slips past your fingers just as often as you manage to snatch bits and pieces. You've tried to explain these kinds of things to them before, and they always—
"Oh, no, no, I didn't mean it like that!"
Mira reaches for your hands. Every instinct in you tells you to pull away, but you resist, embracing the warmth of her palms through your gloves. Even though Isabeau had helped you talk to the others about being more open to touch, you're still not used to others initiating it so casually.
"I wasn't trying to be rude!" she continues. "I shouldn't have interrupted you. Especially since… you never really talk about this… and…" Mira stares at you, squeezing your hands tightly. "And… can you tell me about it? About the Universe, and your culture, and… I want to know more!"
This is new. Why does she care so much? You know how your party reacted, before. They'd never thought about the Universe as more than a passing joke, or gave more than a passing thought to the stars (except Isa, when he took you out to see them).
But so much has changed, in a matter of months weeks days. Maybe, you can hope, something's changed here, too. (Or, Mira's asking out of pity, because she couldn't have the conversation she wanted to have with you.)
It's hard to start, but you eventually manage to find some words. "The Universe… isn't really a 'who', like your Change God or Ka Bue's Expressions." You pull your hands back slightly, silently asking Mira to relax her grip so you can use them to gesture at the world around you. "More of a… concept? An entity? A guiding force?"
You know how to describe it. You'd grown up with it, after all! But the words slip out of your mind as soon as you try to grasp at them. And even if you could remember, it's not like Mirabelle would understand if you started speaking in your native language.
So, you're stuck scrambling for whatever synonyms you can scrounge up.
"It's kind of… everything? It's a part of the world, and then the stars, and even what's beyond that. Guiding us wherever we go." The Universe leads; you can only follow. "But if you know how to ask for things properly — like making a wish to the Favor Tree — the Universe will listen. And that's how…"
"That's how Wish Craft works?" Mira's eyes are wide as she follows your every word. You haven't had such a captive audience since…
Since the loops. You did enjoy your acting, at times.
"It's that simple?" Mira's voice breaks through your thoughts before they can spiral away.
There's more to it than that! You open your mouth to answer, only to be distracted by a spike of pain jolting through your head. It's not that bad — even by normal standards, you think, and not compared to the feeling of smashing your skull open on a rock — but you reflexively wince anyway.
"Are you okay?" Mira asks.
“Just a slight headache. I'm fine." Probably just the side effects of talking about your past for so long. If a little bit of pain is what it takes to remember anything, though, you'll gladly suffer through it.
That doesn't reassure Mirabelle, though. "That's not… Can I help?"
You don't need the help. (You're used to hurting.) But it'll make her feel better if you agree, so you nod. A moment later, her Healing Craft wraps around you like a warm blanket, and you have to hold back a sigh as the relief hits you.
"Better?" Mira smiles at you as she pulls away.
You give her a thumbs-up in return.
"That's good!" She fidgets with her hands. "But... back to what we were talking about… do you miss them? Your family?"
What? But you hadn't… besides, your family's right here! With you!
"You haven't really talked about them before, but you've been traveling for a while, haven't you? I can't imagine being away from Vaugarde for longer than a short trip."
Yeah, she's lost you. You know your memory isn't great, but it's not like you forget about things while you're talking about them.
"I know we've been traveling quite a bit, but it's not like—" Finally, she picks up on your confusion. "Siffrin? Are you still not feeling well?" Now that she mentions it, your headache does seem to have returned, so it's not a lie if you agree. "I suppose we have been talking for quite a while… Come on, we can go back to the House together! Bonnie will probably want some help finishing dinner, anyway."
When she helps pull you to your feet, you don't resist. It's not bad, to have someone like Mira (and everyone else) looking out for you. Even if it's just temporary, while you're still recovering.
You’ll miss her, when you all go your separate ways.
Notes:
we're so back. hopefully the next chapter doesn't take another three and a half months. for the sake of my writing consistency, if nothing else.
also, if you're wondering why the Loop fight was different, don't worry about it :)
Chapter Text
"Mira said you wanted to see me?"
You pass through the doorway to the Head Housemaiden's office as swiftly as possible. It might be rude not to wait for an invitation, but you're more concerned with the rock trap that you're very well aware is installed outside the entrance. It's almost certainly not active right now, but you don't want to take any chances. You don't get second chances anymore.
Besides, she's the one who asked you to come. You certainly wouldn't have shown up otherwise. If Mira hadn't not-so-subtly brought it up again earlier in the morning, maybe you could have gotten away with the request "accidentally slipping your mind". But you can't disappoint Mira, not when she's been taking so much time out of her duties to assist in your recovery (and you really don't want her to suddenly decide that she'd prefer to stay in Dormont rather than travel with you).
"Oh, yes, come in!" At least this isn't where you normally meet the Head Housemaiden. You're not quite sure what going back up there would do to your mental state, but it certainly wouldn't be good. As it stands, you're barely tamping down the urge to go rummage around in her desk drawers for the key again, which would be incredibly rude considering the owner is standing. Right. There. And talking to you. "Siffrin, was it? I'm so glad you could find the time to stop by before you all left: I was beginning to worry my request had completely slipped your mind!"
"What do you want from me?" You don't have the time for pleasantries. The faster you can get this over with, the faster you can leave. And once you're out of Dormont, you'll be free from this nightmare entirely.
The Head Housemaiden smiles, seemingly ignoring your aggression. "Well, our earlier conversation got cut short before I could properly thank you for everything you've done! I, and the House, and all of Vaugarde are very grateful for you accompanying young Mirabelle on her quest!"
You've heard this before.
"And…" she takes in a deep breath, "…I am truly sorry for what you went through afterwards." You sigh, too, more out of relief than anything else. "To think that someone would do something so violent, here, well it would have been unthinkable up until a couple weeks ago!"
Yeah, you doubt many people here have to deal with their time-clones trying to murder them and take their place after they finally manage to escape a timeloop.
(You don't want to think about this any further.)
"We're doing everything we can to make sure this doesn't happen again," the Head Housemaiden continues. "I know you're going back on your travels soon, but if there's anything we can do for you, please don't hesitate to let me know!"
Yeah, no, you can't do this. Too many better-forgotten memories. You're halfway to the room's exit when you become aware enough of yourself to realize what you're doing, and even then, you don't stop backing away.
"Wait!"
When you look back at her, you half-expect the world to start breaking down again. But the walls and papers and trinkets all look exactly as normal as they should.
"I'm sure you have other important things to get to," she says, glancing between you and the door like she's not sure why you haven't left yet, "but I have one last thing for you before you go. Call it a gift. And an apology. And… I believe these would get better use with you than kept here gathering dust."
Hesitantly, you step forward.
She rummages around
It's… a pair of books.
Great. Of course someone that Mira idolizes this much would choose reading material as a proper "gift". You're not even sure these will be worth the extra weight.
Except— wait— you recognize one of them. It's the one Wish Craft book you found in the secret library, complete with the same glittery tree on the cover you remember.
The second one is smaller, unfamiliar, with an unmarked cover.
Why is she giving you this? What does she know?
"Your group's scholar came to me with questions while you were recovering from your injuries," the Head Housemaiden explains. "This book in particular—" she gestures at the Wish Craft book "—was one she asked about; she said it seemed important to you?"
You'd rather never see it again, honestly. Wish Craft's done nothing but make you suffer.
"And the other's from my personal collection," she continues. "I suspect they're written in the same script, although I am unfortunately unable to know for certain."
Is she…? No, you don't think so, her accent isn't the same. But she's always known more about the loops than anyone else you've met. She knew that something had gone wrong, when no one else did.
"Quite curious, that we'd happen to run into a traveler able to translate them. Is it your native tongue, or…" She trails off, looking at you expectantly. But you've run out of patience. You shouldn't have come here to begin with.
"I should probably go, bye!" you call out as you flee, with just enough sense to grab the books and take them with you. So she doesn't try to chase you down later, that's all, and not because you actually want them or anything.
The sooner you can leave all this behind, the better.
The book rests in your lap, still unopened after days spent carrying it around.
You'd managed to find a corner to stash away that blinded Wish Craft ritual guide before you left Dormont (if you never have to think about Wish Craft again, it'll be too soon), but you couldn't bring yourself to do the same for this one.
Call it a souvenir, or something. A memento to remember Dormont by. You can't imagine how you'd ever forget all this, but… you've forgotten worse, haven't you?
…
You breathe in, and out, and try to think of something, anything else.
…Like the wonderful smell emanating from where Bonnie's currently stirring a pot, preparing a meal! Something special, they'd said, to celebrate the start of a new journey, right before they'd told all of you in no uncertain terms to stay away so you didn't ruin the surprise. (And then they'd immediately recruited Isabeau to help with some of the preparation, so you suppose the secrecy wasn't that important.)
A hand lands on your shoulder, causing you to jump.
"Oh! Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to startle you!" You can just barely see the tips of Mira's curls as she peeks over you to try and get a glimpse of what you're holding.
You let go of the book immediately, suddenly feeling self-conscious about your choice of hobbies. "Hey, Mira."
"Siffrin!" She giggles. "Can't believe you're the one reading for once! Do we need to start a book club?"
"Wouldn't it be…" weird, you're about to say, since it' supposed to be girls-only, but that never came up this loop, did it? "…h-hard to do that? While we're traveling?"
Mira tilts her head in confusion, and then shrugs. "I-I guess? But, really, if you're interested, I'm sure we could find a library or two to hang out in for a bit! Oh, Change, what should we start with?" You're suddenly a little scared of the look in her eyes. What have you gotten yourself into.
At least you successfully distracted her from your mistake?
Mira keeps mumbling under her breath for far longer than you expect her to. "…maybe if we— Wait, Change, sorry Siffrin! I maybe got a bit excited about the idea, but is that something you'd even be interested in? I know my taste in books can be rather… unconventional… and not something like your…" She squints at the cover of the book you're holding. "…Whatever that is. Where did you get that, anyway?"
"The Head Housemaiden gave it to me," you tell her. "Before we left. Figured I could at least check it out."
"Euphrasie herself gave you this? I'm jealous!" Mira sits down in the grass next to you, leaning her head against your shoulder. It's warm. "What's it about?"
"I hadn't exactly… started reading it yet?" you admit. "And she didn't exactly tell me anything, just kind of handed it to me?" Maybe, if you hadn't left so suddenly, you might have gotten an explanation, but you still don't regret that.
"Oh! A mystery! Can I see?" You're not exactly why she's so curious, but there's no harm in showing her, you think. When Mira gets her hands on the book, she takes her time studying the front and back cover before flipping through a few pages, looking increasingly more confused as she does so.
She doesn't get far through the first page she actually tries to read before she hands it back to you, wincing in pain. "Change, I can't even read this! Did Euphrasie manage to find you another book on that Wish Craft thing?"
You look over at the page Mira has it open to. It is, like both she and the Head Housemaiden had figured out, written in your language. The one no one's supposed to be able to read, except for you. (Thank the Universe you've somehow managed to keep the ability. You still don't understand how that whole "memory" system works.)
It's… not a book on Wish Craft, though. As far as you can tell, it's actually some kind of fiction novel? You get just far enough through the page to figure out it's about some girl (who you know nothing about) walking along a beach (which you might. know a bit more about, if this is from where you think it is) before Mira speaks up again.
"Is it from the same place as you?"
When you glance up to look at her, surprised, you completely lose your focus.
"Sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt!" If Mira had a hat like yours, you think she'd be hiding behind it right now. "You can go back to reading if you want! It's just… I was thinking… it's probably nothing, but…"
Okay, now you're curious, though. "What's up, Mira?"
"…When we were talking, a few days ago, you were talking about wishes, and the Universe, in the same way that I talk about Change. Like it's something that's really important to you."
Wait, she remembers? Usually everyone else forgets about this kind of stuff? It's not their fault, you know, but why is it different now?
"And the books none of us could read… they were about the same thing. So… is that because they're from your home? Wherever that is?" She looks at you like she's waiting for clarification, for an answer that you can't give her.
Because you don't know. You'll never know. Even trying to remember its name tore you apart (you still remember the King's cries; your own screams; the desperation for something, anything, to hold onto).
"I…" Yes, because she's right. No, because it doesn't exist. Not anymore. Because it's gone, erased, forgotten.
"…Do you not want to talk about it?" Mira asks, giving you an out. "Is it like madame Odile's research?"
What? "What?" Where did that come from?
"What," Odile echoes, looking up from her own novel.
…Has she been listening in this whole time?
"You both have secret backstories!" Mira exclaims, like the answer is obvious.
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Isa split off from where Bonnie's watching over a fire and head over to join you.
"Ah, yes, my field of study," Odile remarks dryly. "I don't think I'd call that a backstory, but I see where you're coming from."
"Yes! That!" You still don't know where Mira's going with this. "And then Siffrin's… well, everything! You're both so mysterious!"
Is that meant to be a compliment?
"Should we start throwing out guesses for where Siffrin's from, then?" Odile's smile indicates that she's only teasing you, but you can't help but shrink back from all the attention. Why are they suddenly so interested in your home? It's gone, it's forgotten, it won't come back, and yet—
Odile glances over at you. "Or… maybe that's not the best idea," she adds.
"Oh!" Mira looks like she was moments away from listing every country she could think of. "Wait, why?"
"It's not common in Vaugarde, but in some other parts of the world, one's heritage can be a… sensitive topic," Odile explains. "Something too personal to be treated as a game. And I suspect Siffrin wouldn't enjoy the attention."
Mirabelle fidgets with her hands. "But, then, are you okay with…"
"Please, Mirabelle, if I really cared about you all not knowing what I'm researching I would have said something months ago," Odile says.
"Besides, you're not even studying anything!" Unlike you, who, as far as the rest of the world, is from nowhere. Maybe the comparison's more apt than you thought it was.
…Too late, you realize you said the first part of that out loud. And that everyone is staring at you. (Except Bonnie, who you think is too far away to hear.)
Stars. You weren't supposed to know that. Odile always gets suspicious when you say things you shouldn't and she's already onto you right now and you need to loop back but you can't loop back and you have to fix this somehow say something say anything and… "I mean—"
"Sif!!! How could you say that?!" Isabeau cuts in (when did he get here), a hand clasped over his heart. "How could you tell her? It won't be as fun unless she still thinks we're clueless!"
Huh?
"Oh, so you both figured it out then?" Odile laughs, which doesn't make sense, because shouldn't she be mad at you? For revealing her secret? "I suppose I've let this go on long enough."
"HUH?!?" At least Mira gets you. "This whole time?"
"Isabeau's the one who got the idea stuck in your heads, not me," Odile clarifies. "I just didn't deny it."
You… suppose that makes sense? She wasn't that hesitant to reveal it when you got her that familytale?
You still feel like you're getting away with something you shouldn't be.
"Thank you for playing along, m'dame!" Isabeau smiles. "To be honest, I'd known for a while, but it was fun to come up with guesses! I was actually hoping I could keep it up for longer, but I suppose someone—" he glares at you "—had to — hey wait Sif I'm kidding! Don't look so distraught!"
You school your expression into something resembling nonchalance. "I'm fine, Isa."
"I didn't know, though!" Mira's eyes are still wide in surprise. "You're really not studying anything? So what's with all the books, and all the questions, and…"
"I do have hobbies, Mirabelle. One can find enjoyment in seeking knowledge outside of academic pursuits, you know."
"So is it… researchology?" Isa laughs. "No, wait, that really doesn't work now that the secret's out."
You laugh with him, and smile, and let the conversation carry on without your input.
At least the focus isn't on you, anymore. And it really is nice, listening to the rest of them talk. Especially when it isn't conversations you've heard dozens of times before.
You make it to your first stop on the journey to Bambouche just as the sun begins to set.
Isa leads the way as you navigate through the streets: the town's considerably larger than Dormont, even if it pales in comparison to the cities you vaguely remember passing through before. Nothing special, really: you've probably seen hundreds of towns this size in the years you've been traveling.
You can't stop staring.
There's just… so many people. All just going about their day. All so alive and new and real in a way the people of Dormont had ceased to become for you.
How long has it been, since you've seen something this new?
You're not quite sure, and attempting to do the math would only be more trouble than it's worth. So you don't! Instead, you busy yourself with trying to keep track of everyone while letting your eyes wander as much as you can. Which lasts up until you crash into Isabeau's back when he suddenly stops at a street corner.
"Hey, Sif, you okay?" When Isa's hand reaches out to help steady you, you can see the hesitation in his gesture. You ignore it, and glance around, hoping no one else was paying enough attention to notice your misstep.
Luckily enough, Odile and Mirabelle seem to be a ways back, chatting with some shopkeeper who you can immediately tell is trying to give poor Mira another gift she doesn't think she deserves. And Isabeau's standing right in front of you, so he's a lost cause. Which just leaves…
Wait, where is Bonnie?
…
They have to be here somewhere, you tell yourself, even as you feel your chest begin to tighten as you look around. It's fine. They're safe. It's fine. No one's going to hurt them here.
It's fine. You're fine.
You can't help the gasp of relief that escapes you as you finally spot them talking to some stranger.
"Bonbon!" you shout, running towards them. "There you are!"
"Heyfrin," they mutter. "What do you want."
They look okay; they're not hurt, but… "You can't go running off like that! You could have—"
Bonnie cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. "I can take care of myself, you know. I'm not a little kid anymore."
They are, though. Stars, you still do not know how to handle this side of Bonnie.
"My apologies, I hadn't meant to steal them away for you for more than a moment." The voice of the person Bonnie had been talking to feels oddly familiar, even if you can't quite place it. "Just catching up, you know how it is."
"Frin, you remember Lucien, right?" Bonnie asks, still glaring at you.
You have no idea who this is. "Yeah, of course!"
"Siffrin, was it?" they ask. You nod. "I presume you're the one taking little Bonnie back to their sister, then?"
"We all are, actually." When had Odile gotten behind you?
"Ah! It is good to see you as well, madame. Please pass on my gratitude to miss Mirabelle, then, although I'm sure she's been showered in well-wishes already. And if there's anything I can offer to the saviors of Vaugarde, don't hesitate to ask! You have done all of us a great service, and…"
You start to zone out; you've heard enough variations on this particular speech already to consider it all too familiar.
It's weird, being recognizable, when you've spent your whole life being the opposite of that. You've never been a particularly memorable traveler. Never stayed long enough anywhere to make real connections. And now everyone seems to know your name.
Until they start forgetting again. Which shouldn't take long: you're all too aware of how easy you are to miss.
When Odile starts speaking, you focus back in. "—assure you, your assistance a few weeks ago was more than enough, although I will pass on the offer to the other members of our group." She glances over at you, giving you her very recognizable Vaugardians, huh? look.
You doubt that offer's ever getting mentioned to either Isabeau or Mirabelle.
"Speaking of them, though, we should probably get going before our companions start to worry about us. Come along now, children."
"Hey!" you respond, in mock protest.
Bonnie pokes you in the side. "Want to hold my hand, Frin? So neither of us gets 'lost' again?"
Now they're both bullying you?!? This isn't fair. You hide your face under your hat.
"I won't keep you, then." Lucien (apparently) nods sympathetically at you, although the faint smile on his face suggests he, too, is not immune to the charm of your suffering. "Safe travels, my friends."
As you walk away, something in you bristles at that last remark. You're well-accustomed to Vaugardian hospitality by now, but you don't understand how people can be so casually affectionate. Odile doesn't consider you a friend (because you didn't earn it, this loop), and you've been traveling together for months! Who does he think he is, to claim friendship so soon?
You're so lost in thought that you barely notice Mira and Isa huddled together, right where you left them.
"Bonbon! Sif! Where'd you go?" Isa asks as you approach, like you were more than a couple dozen steps away.
"I found Lucien and said hi!" Bonnie tells him. "And then Frin followed me because they're too stubborn to let me do things on my own!"
"Oh!" Mira gasps. "Is he doing well? I hope the Curse didn't do too much damage here…"
The town looks normal? You think? From what you've seen? Not that you know what normal is.
"He's doing fine, don't worry," Odile says. "More than fine, it seems. I'd have invited you two over, but it's late enough as-is." And because she's less prone to idle conversation than even you are.
Isa glances up at the sky, and you follow suit. It's gotten quite dark, actually, even if the light from nearby lanterns makes it difficult to see the stars.
"Been a long day, huh, m'dame?" he suggests.
"You tell me," Odile agrees. "If you're all okay with it, I'd suggest we split up: Siffrin and I will go get us a place to sleep at the local inn, while the three of you can find and bring back something to eat."
You don't like that she's singling you out, but everyone else is nodding along and you can't think of an excuse not to agree. Besides, after that disaster of a conversation, you're sure Bonnie wouldn't mind being away from you for a bit.
By the time you make it to the inn and get your rooms (rooms! Plural! You don't want to think about how much that cost, even with the discount you were given as saviors) you can definitely feel the exhaustion starting to creep in. Spending all those days confined to bedrest while you recovered from nearly dying was not good for your traveling endurance.
So as soon as you get a key from Odile, you head straight for you and Isa's room so you can collapse onto the bed. Maybe you can get a quick nap in, while you wait for everyone else to get back.
You're expecting Odile to go to her own room, to get a bit of solitude before the rest of your group shows up. Instead, however, she follows you in, standing awkwardly in the center of the room like she doesn't know what to do with herself.
Too late, you realize she did so with a plan. "We met Lucien last time we were staying here," she begins, "passing through on the way to Dormont. He and his family hosted us for the night, as the usual places were already occupied by other refugees fleeing the Curse.
Now that she mentions it, that does feel vaguely familiar, but… "Okay?" Why is she telling you this?
"Oh, don't look so surprised. You're not nearly as good of an actor as you think you are. It's the look in your eyes — well, eye — you get the same one every time you're struggling to remember something."
You pull your hat down to hide your face. And proceed to bury both your face and the hat in front of it into the blankets atop the bed, for good measure.
"Did you split us up just so you could tell me that?" you try to ask, but with your mouth buried in a pile of fabric it comes out as a mumbled mess. You repeat it, again, once you've recovered from your embarrassment enough to be willing to sit up a bit.
"Would you prefer I brought it up in front of everyone?"
No, you wouldn't. She's right.
"I am starting to get quite concerned about these memory lapses, though. They've been getting worse lately, and… I know some people have bad memories but this can't be normal.
"It's fine, Odile. I'm used to it." The gaping holes in your memory are just a part of you now! Something you'll never be able to get rid of, no matter how hard you try. Something you'll never be able to let go of, because having the fragments is better than having it all be wiped away completely.
"Siffrin…" She sighs. "That's not a good thing, you know."
You shrug. It's really not, but there's nothing you can do about it! You've tried! You've died trying! "I know."
She sighs. Again. A lot of that going around. "Are you this evasive on purpose or is it just natural to you?"
"Of course I'm evasive! How do you think I manage to avoid traps otherwise?"
Odile doesn't give much of a reaction, but you can see the tiniest hint of a smile peek through on her face before she catches herself. "You know that's not what I meant."
You wink mysteriously.
Odile narrows her eyes at you.
You stare back.
She gives in first. "Trying to distract me from worrying about you? It's not going to work."
She's worried about you? "I'm fine, though?"
"Are you, now?" Odile doesn't look convinced.
You nod. You're out of the loops, the King is defeated, and you and your allies are traveling together! What more could you ask for?
"Siffrin. These memory issues, your nightmares, the way you've been even less talkative than usual — I don't know if it's because of getting attacked and nearly dying or the long-forgotten Craft skill you called upon to guide us through the House, but clearly something's going on with you. You're hiding something. Something important enough that the one time I tried to push you for information you started panicking badly enough it shut the whole conversation down and have since been trying to avoid me as much as possible for weeks."
That last part's not true, though? You've been traveling together all day! And before that, most of your time was spent cooped up in the House recovering. And it's not like you two weren't around each other then, even if you'd prefer to stick closer to Mira, or Isa, or…
Okay, maybe spending one-on-one time with the person both most equipped for and most insistent on sniffing out your secrets wasn't exactly your idea of a good time! She hasn't been able to figure out anything yet, but one misstep on your part and that could all change! And you don't like change!
Odile takes in a deep breath, then lets it go. "…I know you'd rather I move on from this, and stop poking around in your business. Believe me, I'd prefer if I didn't have to be the one to confront you about this, either. But that only works if you talk to someone about what's going on, and I can tell you don't plan on doing so."
She'll hate you if you tell her, though. They all will. If they knew how much you manipulated them so that you could drag them on this second journey together.
"It doesn't have to be me," Odile continues. "Doesn't have to be now. But I'll figure it out eventually, you know. Even if you don't want me to."
Yeah, right. If she couldn't figure it out before, she definitely won't figure it out now. You're fine. It's fine.
You still don't say anything, though. Let her assume you're thinking about it, even if you already know the answer.
She sighs. "I should have left this to Isabeau," she mutters under her breath, just barely loud enough for you to hear. Then, louder, "…I'll give you some space, for now. Feel free to come see me if you need anything."
As soon as you hear the sound of the door opening and closing, you roll over and bury your face into the nearest pillow, letting out a muffled scream. (A quiet one, though. Wouldn't want anyone to hear you.)
Of course she's onto you. Probably talking behind your back, too, making sure everyone knows that poor Siffrin's acting strange.
Weren't you supposed to be free? Aren't the loops supposed to be over? So why do they keep dragging you back, asking you over and over and over again if you want to talk? If you want to relive your worst nightmares?
You just want things to go back to normal, like it was before. Why don't they get it? They're better off not knowing. This burden's only yours to bear.
…
Back to the stage, Siffrin. It wouldn't be the first time you've had to convince them that nothing's wrong.
Notes:
happy birthday siffrin! (and loop but they're not in this)
let's just. not talk about why this took so long (if you really care it's a combination of major irl life changes + other projects + one scene in particular that took forever to figure out).
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