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This blinding holiday doesn’t make any sense.
But what else is new, with anything Vaugardian? Every month there seems to be some new thing half your party swears is a cultural tradition that is ‘SOOOOOO so important, we swear this time!’ but that ends up being another lukewarm (or in that springtime festival that threw your darling little Housemaiden into a panic attack, dramatic) affair.
It’s fine. You’re not in the market to rip their happiness away. You just smile with your lack of a mouth and nod when the Fighter animatedly explains this new holiday to you, go ‘ooh’ or ‘I see’ when the Housemaiden or the Teen interjects with some extra detail that was left out. And then you share a glance with your Stardust and the Researcher, offer a shrug of your shoulders that suggests how tired you are of these Vaugardian antics, and one of them laughs, and the Vaugardians feign offense, and -
It’s a whole process.
You’re not sure how many more times you can repeat this performance.
Unlike most of the other holidays, the explanation for this one came about two months before the actual date. Because it’s a big one. An important one. A holiday with homework, as the Teen explained.
And the Housemaiden corrected them. It’s wasn’t like that, she said.
But according to her explanation, it really is homework.
The Fighter swore it’s fun homework, and you side-eyed him. Though you didn’t dare call out that all homework is fun for him.
That’s not something your character is supposed to know. And if this holiday had a fail state, you needed to pay attention to it and actually retain the information instead of bringing him to the fire.
No memories falling out for this one, if it matters to them. You listened to the explanation like a good friend. Even if you don’t feel like one these days.
Apparently, you’re supposed to wait for the shortest day of the year and exchange presents with the closest people in your life. Drink hot drinks by the fire. Roast marshmallows and chocolate in some weird little sweet sandwich. Discuss any potential Changes that only two people in your party really care about. Meditate on the nature of the weather, or the mood, something something blah blah blah about Change.
That’s what all Vaugardian holidays are about, in the end.
For this one, Stardust’s eye lit up, and you know the people-pleasing part of his brain exploded a little bit. They’ve run through ideas for presents for the rest of the party, asked for your opinion and feedback on them. Wondered if you wanted to exchange gifts between the two of you even though neither of you care about this holiday past making the the Vaugardians happy. They’ve gone shopping for the holiday with others, everyone traveling in microgroups to find gifts for a specific target while the giftee pretends like they don’t know why everyone except them has gone on a market outing.
You’re not sure why Stardust is so welcoming of any of this. Why they’ve decided to assimilate, all of a sudden. It’s like he doesn’t care that none of this is theirs. None of it yours. It’s just another day to you.
A real holiday shouldn’t be so quick, yes? It should be a week of merriment. With a whole festival, or a parade, or something… explosive. Fireworks, maybe? Something wrapped in paper that you pull on and it pops out confetti and candy and a dumb little stock fortune?
There’s a word for that.
It’s fallen through your hole of a memory.
The name of this particular holiday escapes you as well - who cares, it’s just one day - but it’s today, regardless.
Thankfully, you did your homework for it the same day you heard there was homework. Did it on your lonesome, before everyone else went on their shopping trips, their Crafting sprees, their anxiety increasing as the holiday moved closer one day at a time.
Which was uncharacteristically dutiful of you, but you prefer your character not to overlap with Stardust’s too heavily, these days.
And he procrastinated a lot.
So much that they’ve holed themselves up and away in one of the rooms of this rental house, door locked, with frantic sounds of wrapping paper and tape on the other end.
Such a perfectionist when it comes to the party. You couldn’t count the amount of times they came back from a shopping trip empty handed. You wonder if he’s truly happy with what he’s wrapping up there, or if it’s all last minute panic purchases.
You’re not sure which outcome you’re hoping for.
They’ll stumble out there later, embarrassed, and everybody will think his failures are cute in a way that yours will never be -
It’s fine.
It’s good.
If you wanted the rest of the party to coo and pity you, you’d have come clean about your identity issues two years ago.
Not that you’re convinced they don’t know. It’s just… well. Nobody’s going to bring it up if you don’t. You’re a fun little band of idiots with avoidance issues. Sometimes that works in your favor.
Sometimes it traps you in the same two days for years.
You’ll cross your non-existent heart and hope it’s the former.
But it still sticks you in a cramped living room with your Stardust’s party. Fireplace (you can’t feel the warmth of) crackling. Cookies (you can’t eat) packed in a pretty tin. A holiday meal (that you can’t smell) being slow roasted in the kitchen. Gifts (that aren’t addressed to you) stacked at the edges of the walls and a respectable distance away from the fire. Party members taking turns putting things on sticks and cooking them in the fireplace. And, when Stardust takes too much time wrapping, they all nervously eye the staircase and exchange worried glances. Missing Stardust’s presence even though he’s right upstairs.
As if yours isn’t enough.
…
Who are you kidding.
You knew it wasn’t even without the massive pile of evidence in your favor.
But it does mean you’re stuck in this room with them. And sometimes that means one of them will try to strike up conversation with you.
It doesn’t tend to go well that often.
“So, Loop… ” Looks like it’s the Housemaiden’s turn to try and turn you sociable. “Did you have any holidays like this, where you and Siffrin are from?”
It always comes back to them.
“I’m surprised you don’t already know the answer to that, Housemaiden.” It’s a mean answer, but in your defense, it was a pretty mean question too.
“Well… it’s always worth asking… ”
Is it?
“You know, you can always ask us questions too, Loop!” The Fighter always feels like he needs to remind you of this, and you try not to roll your eye(s) too hard.
“You say that as if you think I have a question.”
“With the way you’ve dug your fingers into the floor all morning, I’d be surprised if you didn’t have a question.” Oh, yippee, you can still count on the Researcher to be too nosy for her own good. “If we’re waiting for Siffrin to finish his business, this would be a good time to air out any confusions.”
There is something you’re curious about, it’s just…
Feels like whacking at a hornet’s nest.
…
Nobody ever said you had the best self-preservation skills!
“If this is such an important holiday for you Vaugardians, why didn’t you celebrate it last year?”
That drops the temperature down in the room a few degrees.
“Well… you know how Siffrin was last year, around this time… ” The Housemaiden takes a cookie to stop herself from chewing at her own nails. “Last year, it was only… um, two and a half months since the whole… um… ”
“The loop thing?”
“You realize that makes it sound like it was your fault, Loop.” The Researcher sighs. “And we know that’s not true.”
She knows that now. But this time last year, she was on your case for every little detail. Every little slip up. If anyone in the party knows who you used to be, it’s her. Or maybe she’s got her nose pointed in the wrong direction - it’s not like her predictions are always right. When you joined the team, she thought you were an assassin. As if you could have the guts to raise a hand to any one of them.
Though you hadn’t caught onto her false prediction until you started eavesdropping on her in the bathroom.
Some friend you are.
“Do you know that?” you ask, and it doesn’t feel like playing with fire as much when you don’t have skin to burn yourself with.
She groans. “I do.”
“AND I wasn’t there with all of you since I wanted to do gifts with Nille ‘cause that’s when we just met up again.” The Teen squints at you from across the room, draped in so many blankets you’re afraid they’ll drown in them. “So I did the holidays but you didn’t.”
And now their darling sister is cozied up in bed with a nasty headcold. On one of the most cherished Vaugardian holidays.
The Teen will likely bring up her food and presents later - or they’ll make you do it, since you can’t catch whatever disease she’s harboring in her body - but their tantrum at her absence wasn’t as sharp as it was before. Kids grow up so fast.
“Wow, how could I forget that?” Easily, though that’s not the point.
You can tell the Teen wants to contest you on that, but they back down after a couple nervous stares from the adults in the room. Even half a year ago they would have exploded, demanded that SURELY there was something wrong. That they could help. But, no. Now they’ve developed a little avoidance streak of their own. Is that a normal part of growing up, or is it an unfortunate consequence of their upbringing?
Maybe you’re rubbing off on them.
Your nonexistent stomach churns at the idea.
“Dile, do you have any holidays like Hearth Day - " Oh, that was the name. “ - in Ka Bue?”
“Winter holidays? Not really.” She takes a long sip of her drink. “A lot of Ka Buan holidays and festivals are in the summer and autumn.”
“So they’re happening right now, right? Because of the.” The Teen glances at the other Vaugardians for support. “The hemispheres?”
“Yes, Boniface, they would be happening around this time. None on this date, though.”
“But we should celebrate something! ‘Cause it’s from your home.”
“It would feel completely out of season for me, and I wouldn’t want to celebrate outside in the cold like this,” she laughs, “but I appreciate the sentiment.”
You suppose there’s good reason that this holiday is an indoor activity, yes.
Instead of listening to their conversation, which you are not allowing yourself to be a participant in, you watch the flames in the fireplace flicker and dance around. You’ve tried putting your hand into flames, now. You can’t feel it, but Stardust claims it smells like ozone. Yes, it’s a little satisfying watching the whatever-you-have-that-passes-as-skin crust and flake off, shining brighter when you wipe the dust away, but you can’t feel a thing when that happens.
Maybe if it hurt, you’d do it more.
But it’s quite antisocial to choke out a whole room with the smell of your self-mutilation, so you don’t.
Watching the fire becomes rhythmic. Soothing. Something to tether your attention to, something passive and unable to fail. Unlike a conversation partner, the fire doesn’t mind if you’re a little silent. If you ignore it to have a dramatic, inner monologue.
Which is all you love doing these days.
Being a tragic character does come with its perks.
So you take a false breath, and let your mind wander to -
“NYA - !”
Oh, Stars.
You can’t get a second to yourself, can you?
Right on cue, the Fighter is the first one that gets out of his seat to rush upstairs. The Housemaiden follows right after him, and the Teen has to wrangle themselves out of the blankets before coming in last.
The Researcher stays in place, eyes on you.
Like you need a babysitter.
“What do you think he’s up to?”
As if you’d know. You shrug.
“Do you think this is more on the side of entertaining, or upsetting?”
Like you’d know. “I’m not their keeper anymore, you know.”
“You do seem to have a wider… insight into them, than the rest of us.”
Another attempt at her trying to figure you out? Or is this just what she thinks passes as cheery conversation?
“I already got you a gift.” You sneer at her, though it’s not as biting without your mouth. “Stardust forecasts cost extra, Researcher.”
Her brow tightens, gearing up for a lecture, but the footsteps down the stairs blissfully interrupt her.
You’ll owe Stardust one later.
“Soooooooo, um.” The Fighter always sweats. It’s not from physical exertion, even though he’s carrying a small stack of wrapped gifts in his arms.
That’s a social sweat if you’ve ever seen one.
“M-Madame! What do you think of doing gifts NOW?” The Housemaiden asks, as if the Researcher has any stock in when and where you all do a Vaugardian tradition.
“We… can?” She’s just as confused with the question as you are.
“GREAT!” The Housemaiden flies down the stairs, carrying a few presents of her own. Her and the Fighter place a stack of gifts in the middle of the floor, dangerously close to your monologue spot. “SO. Um. Nobody is allowed to laugh… !”
Researcher fails before you. That’s a win.
“MADAME… PLEASE… ” The Housemaiden puffs her cheeks out.
“No, no. Don’t mind me.” She rests her chin in her hand. “It’s cute.”
Stardust’s barely come down the stairs, hiding behind one of the banisters. The Teen has to shake them loose for him to fully descend, shyly sitting an arm’s length away from you.
Oh, so they messed up.
The Fighter’s sweat gets disgustingly visible. “So, uh. We’re all going to be normal about this. Normal and cool and not judgmental at all.”
“Mira. Isa.”
“No, no, it’s REALLY okay!!!!!!!!” The Housemaiden squeezes Stardust into a tight hug. “Okay! So! Usually on Hearth Day, you’re supposed to. Pick one person and give them all of their gifts so they feel extra warm and fuzzy. And some people suggest Changes that would be good for them… but with so many of you here not interested in that, we don’t HAVE to make that part of our tradition - "
You wonder how much of that suggestion is the Housemaiden being considerate of you, and how much is a convenient dodge for herself.
“ - so. Um. NO LAUGHING. Siffrin, he - "
“I wrapped all the gifts and I didn’t label them and I forgot which ones go to everyone.” Stardust’s buried their face in their cloak. “That’s it. That’s all. It’s fine.”
He did not.
But, no. They did. You’d know that guilt-stricken look on their face anywhere.
You can’t help but laugh hysterically.
“Loop… ” Oh, the Fighter’s brought out his I’m-Disappointed-In-You-But-I’m-Pretending-To-Be-Nice voice and everything!
Gee, it’s a relief you don’t need to breathe! There’s no way you’d get enough oxygen if you laughed like this in your old body!!!
“It’s not that funny, Loop.” The Researcher smacks her palm to her forehead.
Oh, she has no idea.
Whatever.
You let your giggles fizzle out, raising a brow at Stardust. “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve done all year.”
The Housemaiden huffs in disapproval. “Loop!”
“That’s really crabbing rude, Loop,” echoes the Teen.
Stardust shakes their head, finally showing his face to you. “… it’s fi - "
“STOP THAT!!!!!!!!! IT’S NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Stars, the Teen didn’t get any less loud with age, did they?
“ANYWAY.” The Housemaiden claps her hands once, in authority. “What we’re GOING TO DO. Is open one of Siffrin’s mystery gifts at a time, and whoever the present is for, we’ll do the exchange for them! One at a time!”
Ah. What a cute way of minimizing Stardust’s discomfort.
Watching them bend over backwards to make them feel better is going to make you reconstitute a stomach and hurl all its contents out, you think!
“That sounds lovely, Mirabelle, though… ” The Researcher tilts her head to the side. “Siffrin, do you remember what you got everybody?”
They nod. “… lots of the boxes are the same size. That’s all.”
Still a stupid, wretched, absolutely irredeemable mistake.
They don’t deserve all of these sympathetic gazes.
“In that case… Boniface, would you like to pick the first one that’s ripped out?”
As a consolation prize for their sister being out of commission? Or because children like ripping presents to shreds, and the party is still oh-so-insistent on them being a child, still?
Whatever the reason, the Teen doesn’t object to it, and they reach for a reasonably sized present - not the biggest, not the smallest.
A safe choice.
They dig their fingernails into the paper until a plain, bright box sits before them. There’s a very couture looking label on the front. Minimalist. Luxury. Perhaps it’s for the Researcher?
“… that’s for Mira.”
No, you would have never guessed that.
It’s not… her style. Did Stardust mess up? Did they give her a present that’s bad, and then yours will be better and then everyone will claim that, actually, YOU’RE the better friend, and -
Stars, that’s a stupid fantasy. It wouldn’t ever happen even if Stardust decided to package manure and give it to her.
“Oh, I’m first… ?” The Housemaiden’s shoulders shrug up in embarrassment as the Teen hands the box over to her. “I-it’s still in the package, I’m sure we can do me later if - "
“Aw, but Mira!” The Fighter brings out sickeningly sweet puppydog eyes. “I remember this store! It was full of awesome stuff! If Sif bought you something here, I don’t think I could take the suspense of waiting to see what he got for you… ”
It’s still lying even if you’re doing it for a good cause, Fighter.
The Housemaiden’s fingers twitch at the edges of the box. “Hrrgh… okay, okay!!”
She lifts the lid on the box to reveal.
Uh.
It’s… something weird. Just a box of fluffy fabric? There’s some kind of structure to it, but when it’s all stuffed in that box, it’s hard to tell. But it’s bright, probably made of cotton, and covered in darker polka dots.
“Oh, what is… ” She gingerly lifts it out of the box, showing it off. It’s a big ring of fabric, about the size of her hand, pinched on the insides and exploding outwards in a big, gaudy mess.
It looks awful.
Stardust picks at the edge of their cloak. “When we visited that town in Poteria, there was, um. A fashionable lady that said those were popular. It was called a, um… ”
“A scrunchie,” the Fighter supplies.
“OH, I’VE HEARD OF THESE! But I’ve always been too scared to try it out… ” The Housemaiden turns the ring of fabric over in her hands, in awe. “Siffrin… ! It’s so pretty!”
“R-really?”
“YES!!!!” She holds it to her chest, and it’s so poofy it spills out of her arms. “Oh, I want to put it in right now! Can you help?”
You avert your eyes as Stardust affixes the garish accessory into her hair. She abandoned her current bow so easily.
Unnerving.
She’s worn that bow for years, from your perspective.
Which is atypical of a Housemaiden, but ever since the party left Dormont, she’s been reluctant to Change things about her just for the sake of it. So she’s had the same taste in fashion all this time. No, she doesn’t wear her bow every day, but more days than not it’s piled on the top of her head, anchoring you to the version of her that you’ve come to know over years and years of your own prison sentence.
You guess all of that flew out the window as soon as Stardust gave her something new to wear.
…
It’s cuter, now that it’s not just a random mass of fabric in her hands. Good for her.
She runs to the bathroom to see how it looks. A delighted scream comes from the other side of the wall. When she comes back, she launches herself at Stardust and hugs them, presses her cheek to his, and babbles out a string of ‘thank-you’s.
You get the feeling you wouldn’t have been thanked with the same warmth even if you gave her the same present.
“Oh, I wanna give you mine next!” The Teen reaches behind them and gets out a smaller package that looks like it’s on the verge of falling apart. “BELLE. I’m sorry I crabbed up the wrapping.”
“Hehe… Bonnie, you’ll be able make fun of me for MY wrapping too, don’t worry… !”
“It’s from me AND Nille because she isn’t good at gifts.”
Still not old enough to keep their mouth shut when talking about people’s shortcomings, you guess.
The Housemaiden takes great care in opening it. So much care that you catch the Researcher checking the clock on the wall. But, eventually, she reveals a spiral bound sketchbook with a small array of pencils attached in a traveling case.
“Oh, Bonnie… ! This is so thoughtful!” She sets the sketchbook down to inspect the pencils. “I’ve been wanting to get back into drawing again!”
“Uh, YEAH! You’ve said it like a MILLION times!” Despite their nonchalance, they’ve got an embarrassed smile plastered on.
“Well, YES, but - " She watches the rest of you, horrified. “Oh no. Did I say it too much and now everyone got me a sketchbook?”
Stardust shakes their head. “Bonnie called dibs on getting you one.”
“Everyone else was TOO SLOW.”
More like everyone else was too nice. But you don’t dare burst that happy little bubble.
“Yeah, we tried not to double up.” The Fighter waits for her to set the sketchbook aside, and hands her a rectangular gift. “Anyway, uh, remember when it was really muddy and you dropped that autographed issue of - "
“WE DON’T TALK ABOUT THAT.” She opens the package, gasping at its contents. “Oh, but it’s a booksleeve… !”
“Yeah, uh, it has a ribbon to tie the book in there so it doesn’t get dropped… since it’s easier to clean the sleeve than it is a whole book, right?” The Fighter scoots next to her to explain his gift, since he has to explain everything. “I used to make these all the time when I was a kid, but it’s been a while since I’ve sewn anything, so I hope the lines are straight… ”
The Housemaiden’s jaw drops. “YOU MADE IT???? I THOUGHT YOU JUST BOUGHT IT????????”
“Aw, Mira… !” His face darkens.
“We told you she’d love it, Isa.” Stardust nods your way.
Yes, and his self consciousness of his own work got annoying after the second night he barged in on a private conversation between you and Stardust. But you should know better, that privacy doesn’t truly exist with this group. Especially with the two of them.
“Here you go, Mirabelle.” The Researcher casually hands her a card, no envelope. There are some bright, cheery flowers drawn on the front, very out of place for a winter holiday.
She laughs as soon as she opens it. “Madame… ! There are better ways to sneak me some coins, you know!”
“You’re hard to shop for.”
“I am NOT!” The Housemaiden pauses to read the card, her eyes sparkling at its contents. “Oh, but the note in here… ! I think I love this more than any gift you COULD have given me, Madame!”
The worst part is, that’s probably true. The Housemaiden can be awfully sentimental. You wonder if that card will ever get thrown away.
And that’s everyone. A gift from every party member to the Housemaiden. At least, from every party member that matters.
You almost take in a breath, thankful that you dodged yet another awkward encounter. Try to sink into the wall so that nobody can see you, and the next gift can be opened without any noses turned up your way.
But the Fighter raises a brow at you before another Stardust can pick up another gift. “Loop, did you get a gift for Mira too?”
You sigh, overdramatic.
Great. You’re not getting out of this the easy way.
“I don’t like my gifts being compared. I’ll hand it over later, how’s that?”
The whole room narrows their eyes at you.
Oh, that’s pure disappointment.
Nothing they can do about it, though! They asked, you answered!
Getting out your gifts now would just complicate this whole present ritual. Make things worse. You’re not in the mood to get into that right this moment.
They can all wait. It’s fine.
Not the end of the world. Reality didn't even break this time!
“… okay.” Stardust reaches for a second present from his pile. “Maybe this one next?”
This one is obviously a book. You can tell from the wrapping. Though that doesn’t narrow down who it’s for - even the Teen has become a bit of a bookworm just by proxy of being with the rest of your party.
Everyone’s able to tell it’s a gift for the Researcher once the paper is torn away and there’s a linen bound, thick journal underneath. It’s bound in a more Ka Buan style, with the bindings wrapped in such a way that the journal can be laid flat to write on. That’s always felt more convenient to you. You’re not sure why Vaugarde decides to bind their journals the same way they bind their novels, making it harder to have them lay on a desk to write. The cover has a cutout design on it, kind of like a diamond. It’s subtle, but lavish.
The Researcher’s always carried different heavy books to channel her Craft through. And there’s nothing wrong with this journal, it definitely suits her sensibilities more than the one you’ve always seen her carry, it’s just.
It’s another difference.
One you know you’re not going to have a fun time adjusting to.
“… you’re running out of pages in the one you have now,” Stardust explains, as if they’re confessing to a great sin.
“I am.” She runs a hand along her new journal’s spine. “You know, Siffrin, the one I have now, I picked up at a market a few weeks before I met Mirabelle. I don’t have a lot of sentimental attachments to it.”
Great, so you’re pathetic enough that you have more attachments to the Researcher’s stupid journal than she does.
“But I can see myself being reluctant to write too much in this one.” She smiles, thumbing the cutout on the front. “Though it would be a waste. I’ll get over it.”
Stardust’s shoulders relax, her words likely stamping out another nasty line of thinking.
Would be nice if you could have that same luxury.
“DILE CAN I GIVE YOU MINE NEXT?????”
Woah, volume.
You zone out as they dig through their messy pile of presents, wondering if you could close your ears if you still had them.
(Like a ravioli… )
You snicker.
Still funny.
“Loop.” Oh, no, the Fighter has upgraded his chiding to his You’re-Being-A-Crab-But-I’m-Too-Scared-To-Confront-You-Yet voice instead.
How terrifying… !
“The wrapping isn’t that bad… ” The Housemaiden gnaws at her fingernails.
Oh, they thought you were laughing about the Teen’s wrapping performance.
…
It is pretty funny. Though you should hold your nonexistent tongue, since you don’t want the Teen to actually be too self-conscious over it.
The Researcher gingerly peels back the already-torn paper to reveal a wooden box small enough to fit into a pocket. Inside are what look to be like travel-sized, collapsible utensils and straws, as well as a cleaning brush for them. When she takes one of the knives out, it Crafts itself to enlarge, causing Stardust to wrinkle their nose in the same way you used to when there was too much musty-smelling Paper Craft in the air.
A higher quality set wouldn’t smell as much. But the Teen doesn’t yet have the funds or the sense to get something more premium.
“Is this because we’re always missing forks?” the Researcher teases, placing the knife back in.
She’s being nice, not mentioning that half of the missing forks are likely the Teen’s doing. You’ve seen them drop more than a few silver’s worth of forks into rivers when it’s time for them to do dish duty.
“Well, um, and you don’t like people touching your cutlery.” The Teen puffs out their chest, proud of this observation. “So if you have your OWN, then there’s not a problem!”
“This is very sweet of you, Boniface.” She beams down at them.
“Is, um, is it boring because it’s not something more fun?”
“No, I prefer something more practical.” She sets down the carrying case, leaning forward to pat the Teen on the head. “Thank you, Boniface.”
“HEY! I’m not a little kid anymore, Dile… !”
Her laugh turns wry. “You very much aren’t, Boniface. Thank you.”
Their face darkens as they smooth out their hair, all to the tune of the rest of the adults’ awws and expressions of admiration.
Both the Housemaiden and the Fighter offer their gifts up at the same time, both ceding ground to each other with endless ‘after-you’s and ‘oh, sorry’s. Not that you have any nerves in your face anymore, but you can swear you can still feel one of your eyes twitching. Which is awfully rude of you - these were your friends, once - but nobody ever said you were good with feelings.
Nobody ever said you were bad at them, either. Not to your face.
Though you know they’re saying it behind your back.
“Children, please.” At least the Researcher is also tired of their antics. So maybe you’re only physically heartless, not emotionally. “Do you want me to flip a coin?”
The Fighter raises his hand. “Heads?”
“You’re not really going to make me - " She gawks, and pats her side. No pockets in her pajamas. She watches the Fighter over the rim of her glasses. “You called it first, Isabeau, let’s pretend I flipped heads.”
“Aw, man!” He scratches the back of his head, easygoing, not actually as bothered as his whiny voice would make anyone think. “Okay, M’dame. You win.”
The Researcher leans over to collect her present. “My prize feels very substantial.”
It’s a softer gift, with the way the paper crinkles over the object it protects. This must have been one of the other things he was working on - all of his time lately has been about Crafting things for this holiday.
Because he’s sooooo thoughtful.
When the Researcher finally unpacks her gift, it sinks in her hands. Looks like a pillowcase with something in the center, wobbling around to and fro as she balances it between her hands.
“So, um, it’s a hot water bottle? Crafted to heat up on its own, you just, um, add water. But it felt really hot, so I made a quilted cover for it so it wouldn’t burn you if you kept it on yourself for a while - "
“Isabeau.”
“M-hmm?” He whistles, feigning ignorance.
“Are you using our gifts as excuses to practice your needlework?”
“M’dame!” The Fighter gasps, a fake tear appearing in the corner of one of his eyes. “You wound me!”
“That wasn’t a no.”
“I can do something practical and something nice at the same time!” He beams, grinning so wide you can see his molars. “Though, um, if you don’t like it - "
“I said I prefer practical gifts, and I meant it.” The Researcher sets the glorified pillow to her side, patting it down so it doesn’t fall over. “This will be very useful next time I’m meant to sleep in a tent.”
And now that’s over, the Housemaiden offers her present up once more.
“I-I didn’t know what to get you, Madame! So I got you a few things?” Before she even has time to unwrap the gift, the Housemaiden is already explaining it. “Some soaps that looked really soothing… a pretty hair clip from an art market we went to… a warmer set of winter gloves since your fingers are always shaking when it’s too cold… ”
“And some lotions and incense, too… ” The Researcher fingers through the opened box, eyes wide as she catalogs all of the gifts stuffed inside. “Mirabelle, this is too much.”
“WELL! You do a lot for us, Madame!” She’s hiding her face “One gift didn’t feel right? Or two, or three, or…”
“Or six,” the Researcher says, after the final count.
The Housemaiden nods, determined. “You’re six gifts worth of importance to ME, Madame!”
That gets her to relax. “Good to know where I rank with you, I suppose. I’ll only take it personally if Isabeau gets seven gifts.”
He sticks out his tongue at her as the Housemaiden quietly counts on her fingers. Probably running through the calculations to figure out how many gifts she gave the Fighter, too.
“And I will assume this means I’m finished opening all of my gifts?”
You squirm in your seat.
“… I’m not offended, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She waves a hand. “Siffrin, if you’d like to pick out another present?”
You dodge the next round of judgy glances as Stardust evaluates the shrinking pile of presents next to them. He lifts another smaller box, which is longer and thinner than the rest of the packages. Quite the memorable shape compared to the rest of the near-perfect cubes and rectangles the rest of the gifts have been.
“Oh!” A sparkle of recognition hits their eye. “This one’s for Bonnie.”
“You remembered?” The Teen scoots right up next to Stardust, grinning and patting their shoulder. “Good job, Frin!”
If he’s bothered by that patronizing tone, they don’t show it, and hands the present to the Teen with both hands. “Be careful?”
“Did you get me something dangerous?” They ask, ENTIRELY too excited.
“It can be dangerous.” Stardust holds their hands out, fingers shaking. “So don’t, um, don’t rip it like that, it’s… ”
Too late.
The Teen pulls back the wrapping to show a -
“A KNIFE?” Their eyes shine as they show a box with a very fancy kitchen knife drawn on the side, with a warning label printed on that cautioned any users of the sharp object inside.
“SIFFRIN, YOU DID NOT GIVE BONNIE A KNIFE!!!” The Housemaiden jumps in her seat.
“I feel like that’s, something, we should have all talked about?” The Fighter says through gritted teeth.
The Teen, not caring for all of the adults’ panic, lifts the lid of the box to show -
Not a knife.
That’s a. Um. Oh, the word’s on the tip of your not-tongue.
Stone that you get wet and it makes things sharp. The word’s right there. It’s probably one of those easy compound words that you tend to get stuck on, too, something that would be embarrassing if you admitted out loud that you don’t remember what it’s called.
The Teen’s excitement over getting contraband dulls as you roll over the word’s origin in your head.
“I’m going to give you a knife,” Stardust says, with the biggest crab-eating grin on the planet, “after I teach you how to use it safely, okay?”
Every adult in the room lets out a relieved breath.
“So, um, why a whetstone?” Oh, THAT’S the word. “Is this because I used yours as a skipping stone before we went to fight the King?”
Stardust smiles wide. Fake. You don’t remember that, so they likely don’t either.
“Because a knife is safer when it’s not dull, you know.” Hypocrite. You know firsthand that he doesn’t keep his dagger as sharp as it should be. “I can show you how to do it later.”
If they remember how, at least.
You sure don’t. But you also don’t have much of a use for a dagger these days, either, so no reason for you to remember to sharpen it. Makes you look too suspiciously close to Stardust.
Still… the Teen getting a knife…
…
It’s not. An unwise idea. The Teen’s old enough to learn how to defend themselves, after all. There are still Sadnesses on the road, sometimes, even if they’re weaker than they were when the party was on their quest for regicide. They’ll mostly use that knife for cooking, but it’s never a bad idea to have an extra sharp on hand for self defense with how the party travels. Even if they’re not the type to channel their Craft into a sharp object. Rock types tend to prefer that nice, sweet, blunt force trauma.
(You think about the King slamming the Housemaiden on the - )
The POINT is.
It.
Feels like an age milestone. Getting one’s first knife.
The Kid didn’t stay a kid, and they’re not going to stay a Teen forever either.
You… you don’t have all the time in the world to get in their good graces. And at this rate, you probably never will. They’ve spent these past couple years being very close to Stardust, once that streak of anger misdirection over the missing eye faded. You know the Teen sees them as a mentor, somebody to look up to, to come to for advice, to cry over. Stardust may not approve of that status, but it’s been thrust on them anyway.
How lucky of him.
And now they’re sharing this… moment. Of teaching. And responsibility.
…
It’s fine.
You’ve made your peace with the fact that you won’t ever have that same luxury with the Teen.
“Boniface, here.” The Researcher hands them a card, shrugging as it passes out of her grasp.
“Dile, did you… ” They open the card and a couple coins spill out. “You got us all the same thing, didn’t you?”
She grins, and says nothing.
Of course.
“Well, um… ” The Housemaiden sets down her present in front of the Teen next. “I hope this is okay! And not, um, me kind of, forcing this on you… ”
Their eyes widen before they can even open it. “Wait, is this - !”
“Eheheh… if you’re that excited about it, I feel much better!”
They tear open the paper to show three books. All of them mystery romance novels from some series you know the Housemaiden and the Fighter have talked about at length. It’s not the one with the castles, the Fighter hates that one. Is that the one Stardust tried to read, but couldn’t? Because they didn’t like how the romance was written?
(Well, not that either of you ever liked any kind of written romance.)
…
Is the Teen old enough for kissing books, now?
“YES!” The Teen flips open the first book to a random page, as if they’re completely unconcerned with spoilers. “Now I’ll know what you and Za talk about all the time!!”
“Just let us know if it’s too much, you don’t have to read it if you’re uncomfortable,” the Fighter tacks on, as he always tends to. “It’s not an adult romance, but I used to get really shy reading this kind of stuff when I was your age!”
“Oh, please.” The Researcher twists her nose up. “I believe Boniface is more experienced with that than you all give them credit for. There was that merchant’s kid a few towns back that they - "
“DILE!!! THAT WAS CONFIDENTIAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Ah, how you miss when they’d get that word wrong.
And what could they possibly have done? At their age?
…
Nevermind, you don’t want to get into it.
The Fighter is graceful enough to cut through everyone’s oohs and aahs to deliver his present. “Oooookay, Bonbon, I’m assuming this is. The last one?”
Not graceful enough to refrain from throwing you under the wagon, you suppose.
The Teen doesn’t comment on it, and pulls back the wrapping without looking at the present. “So, Za, what did you sew for this one?”
He smiles sheepishly and looks away.
Too easy.
And the Teen’s intuition was right, anyway. It’s an apron. Which seems very boring. And the Teen seems to register it as boring, too. They’re nice enough not to say that out loud, but you can see the cracks in their smile, and you can see the cracks in the Fighter’s too, as they both realize that this was a dud gift exchange.
You guess teenagers are hard to shop for, and harder to hand-make for.
Especially when the gift competition is money, kissing books, and the promise of a weapon.
Adult-ish presents for teens are only fun when they’re deemed illicit, and not practical.
This time, nobody even asks if you got something for the Teen. They just move on to ask Stardust to unpack another one of his unlabeled gifts.
If you were surprised at whose this one was for, you’d be even worse at pattern recognition than you thought.
“You know, I sorta forgot I get presents, too.” The Fighter blushes as Stardust hands him the box, scratching the side of his neck.
The Researcher grins at him. “Are you a middle child, Isabeau?”
He laughs. “Aw, what gave it away?”
"What wouldn’t give it away?”
You know the Fighter would take that as an insult if you said it, but he laughs harder instead.
“Isa, I hate to tell you this, but the gift is inside the box.” Stardust has their tongue out, teasing.
“Whaaaaaaaaat, I would have never guessed!”
You avert your eyes. Out of everybody in the party, you’re starting to hate the Fighter the most. He’s always… there. They’re all there, yes, but. He tries to butt in more emotionally. The Researcher gives you space, and the Housemaiden can get intimidated by you, and the Teen’s surly glances can be brushed off. But the Fighter invites you to things, and inspires the rest of them to do it too. He asks questions about you past your surly disposition, still trying to extend olive branches after two years.
Everyone else took the hint a year ago. You get as much space as you want.
Except from the Fighter.
He’s asked if you were jealous of him and Stardust. Not in an accusing way, but in that sickening tone that tells you he actually wants an honest answer.
You aren’t jealous. You’re not interested. Not in the way he seems to think, anyway.
All you want is for him to stop trying to be in your life just because he wants to be in Stardust’s. Since he’s convinced himself that you’re a package deal with them.
And you’re not.
It would be so blinding stupid if you wanted to be, anyway.
So, no. You don’t want to watch the two of them joking and punning and borderline flirting. Not out of jealousy. You just want to opt out of… all that.
“ - no, I really love it!” He’s beaming when you put your attention back on him, holding a bundle of assorted fabrics with no structure. “It’ll be useful to practice, and I used up all of my scrap fabric making presents for… ”
For everyone else. Because he’s soooooooo nice.
Whatever.
“Oh, here’s mine!” The Housemaiden gives him a gift that looks comically small in his hands. “I know usually you only use lightless polish, but I thought, um… ”
He tears back the wrapping, showing lots of shades of nail polish. “Oh, this is awesome! Yeah, mixing it up might be fun… but I think it would be nice if I had a sleepover buddy to test them out, right?”
The Housemaiden squeals in excitement. “We should!”
They do that every week. Where’s all this energy coming from?
“Here, Isabeau.” The Researcher hands yet another card with coins to him.
“HA, deja-vu.” He waves the card in the air. “Still appreciated, M’dame.”
Don’t these people have their own money?
Maybe the Researcher can get by with this repeat performance because of her age.
“Za, I ALSO made you your present.” They drop a hastily-wrapped… thing into the Fighter’s lap.
“Oh, did you?” If he’s suspicious of the present, he doesn’t show it on his face. The wrapping comes undone with just the slightest of jostling, and.
Um.
Is that a rock with googly eyes on it?
“It’s cause you like to take care of stuff but we can’t get a cat or a dog since we’re always traveling,” they say, all matter of fact with their arms crossed. “So it’s a pet rock.”
“Aw, Bonbon, it’s adorable!” The Fighter pinches the rock as if it was alive and with pinchable cheeks. “Does it have a name or do I get to come up with that?”
“Oh. Uh.” They blow air into their cheeks. “I didn’t think you’d wanna name it. You can call it anything, I guess?”
“Hmmmmmmm… ” Careful not to jostle the inanimate rock in his hands, the Fighter rocks back and forth, thinking. “Rocky seems too obvious… maybe, like Rockefeller… or Rocksanne… ”
The Researcher slaps her forehead. “You are NOT naming your pet rock Rocksanne.”
“Obviously not.” Stardust nods sagely. “Rocksanne is just her stage name, Odile.”
“HAH!!!!!!! Oh, that’s good.” He sets the rock down carefully. “Don’t worry, Rocksanne, we’ll give you a good legal name soon.”
Even the Housemaiden chimes in. “Don’t forget their alternate names, Isabeau…!”
“You’re all SO EMBARRASSING.” The Teen hides their face. “I didn’t think it’d be like this.”
Why wouldn’t they? Everyone gave their most typical reactions.
Like usual.
…
This time, there’s not even a pause where your present to the Fighter is supposed to go.
That’s fine.
Instead, Stardust brings up the last gift at their feet. The one for the Teen’s sister, perhaps? Though you thought they were going to give her presents after her fever breaks. Can’t give her gift if she’s sick in bed, right?
“Then this last one’s for Loop.”
Wait.
YOU?
“ME?”
“… Loop, why wouldn’t I give you something?” Stardust’s smile drops, surprised at your surprise. “Didn’t we say we were going to?”
“Yes, but I didn’t think you… meant it?”
“Loop.” They sigh. “Of course I - can you just open it, actually?”
Sure. Dwelling on why Stardust decided to be generous and give you a gift even though this holiday means nothing to you isn’t your biggest priority now. Neither of you have that much to your (lack of) name, so getting a nice gift…
It does feel important, despite your disinterest in what day it is on the calendar.
You take the box from Stardust, peeling back the ribbon they deemed it necessary to decorate the package with…
The.
Hm.
Is that how Stardust knew to save this one for last? For you?
Why does this feel like a set-up? It’s unclear if it’s for an execution or a punchline, with Stardust’s crab-eating grin across from you.
…
Whatever.
Nobody ever said you had perfect self-preservation skills.
You open the box, delicate not to bend or break anything, checking what’s inside, and -
“Stardust, I’ll kill you.”
You ignore the whines and ‘whoa, buddy’s from everyone else, eyes fixed on Stardust. They break into a howl, laughing so hard tears form in the corner of their eye. Because he thinks he’s sooooooo funny.
It’s a blinding flower.
A silk one, the same shade and species that they gave you a few times in the loops.
“What’s… going on?” the Housemaiden asks, ignorant to the history of this stupid flower.
“Stardust is trying to trigger me, obviously.” Not that it’s going to send you in a panic attack. As annoying as their little habit to give you gifts became, it was something new, was something to break apart enough of the mundanity.
Your outbursts are enough for the rest of the party to look over your shoulder at the box’s contents. The Researcher adjusts her glasses. “A silk flower?”
“Stardust used to try and bribe me with flowers during the loops.”
“It wasn’t a bribe, Loop.” He sobers up, enough to throw a pout at you. “It means you’re important.”
Yeah, yeah, whatever.
It’s… a nice gift. Looks pretty expensive. Well made. Comes from a loving place in Stardust’s heart.
You should say that out loud, right? Stardust would love hearing that he did a good job. Even if you weren’t literally him, in a past life, you’d be able to pick that up. So thanking them and saying they did a good job is. The nice thing to do.
…
You set the box to the side.
“Oh, I want to go next!” The Housemaiden scoots over to you and drops another gift in your lap. “Here you go, Loop!”
Huh.
Wait.
What?
“Here I go… ?” As in, this gift is for YOU? And not Stardust? Or another party member?
“Did… did you think you weren’t getting presents, Loop?” The Housemaiden looks like she’s going to cry even thinking about you being left out.
“I, um… ”
You don’t have to answer for everyone to catch on.
The room brightens and dims in that way where you know your head’s doing something embarrassing.
“Oh, are you, um, worried because… ” She chews on her lip. “Did you really not get us something after all? Because, you know, that’s okay - "
“No, I did, I, um.” You grip the present in your hands. “I just can’t hand it over right now.”
“Okay! That’s fine. You can still open this one now, though!”
Ah.
Wow, that’s, um.
An unconditional gift, huh?
Well. Perhaps this is just a pity gift, yes? Because it would be awfully rude for them not to give you something if everyone else in the room exchanges presents. So, if you had to guess, this is just filled with. Nice junk that you give to an acquaintance. Candles you won’t use. Books you won’t read. Some stupid bauble or souvenir.
Instead, when you pull back the wrapping, there’s.
Oh.
…
“Pearls?”
“Well! We were in that jewelry store, a few weeks ago, and the consultant was being SO RUDE because… um, of the no ears thing.” The Housemaiden huffs, clicking her tongue in that way she does when she’s genuinely peeved off. “But I, um. I thought I saw you staring at some of the necklaces?”
You were. The pearls felt familiar.
Like something you’ve grabbed onto before and tore, to the disdain of whoever was holding you. And she said that she wouldn’t pass them down to you if you kept misbehaving like that.
…
“Was that, um, bad? And you were staring at them because you hated them, or - "
“It’s.” The words stick in your throat. You can be rude to Stardust all you want, but if the Housemaiden gives you a gift, you have to thank her properly. “No. I thought they were pretty. Th-thank you. I just don’t know if it… ”
If it suits you.
“If it goes with anything else I wear.” Since they all do insist that you wear clothes, now.
“Oh! Well, you can borrow one of my dresses!” She beams, proud of her solution. “I’ve seen you stare at those, too!”
WHAT?
YOU, HAVE, BUT????
WHAT??????????????????
Stardust has the gall to laugh. “Mira, I think you broke them.”
“Teehee…!” She grins at you. “It’s cute of them, though!”
HUH??????????????????????????
“For their sake, let’s not dwell on it too long.” The Researcher sets down another gift. “Loop, open this one before you set the house on fire.”
… the Researcher gave you an actual present?
Not just coins in a card?
“Are you surprised it’s not a card?” She smirks at you. “You’re awful at spending money, Loop, I’m not giving you a chance to procrastinate your own gift.”
AND SHE JUST KNOWS THAT???????
“An ultra rare gift from M’dame… you better open it!”
She. Cares that you would actually use and enjoy a gift? She went through all this trouble to make sure you didn’t just sweep your own present under the rug and forget to treat yourself???
That’s.
You don’t know how to react to that.
But everyone’s staring at you to open it, so…
You take a breath you don’t need and follow the stage directions.
It’s a book. With paper cranes and other animals on the front. Thin, instructional, full of pictures. There’s a small package of origami paper attached, with pretty shades and a fun array of patterns. Enough to last you a while, even if you mess up a lot trying to fold some of the more complex things the book advertises that you’ll be able to make.
“You’re skilled at making cranes. And you don’t seem as stressed when you make a nice one.” The Researcher smiles at you conspiratorially. “I have a hunch learning other folds would be fun for you.”
It would be fun.
It’s the one thing Stardust forgot how to do that you didn’t. A point of pride in your behavior, something you can point to and claim superiority over. And something meditative to do when you so badly want to destroy something but don’t want to kick up a fuss.
You feel very… seen, with this gift.
“… thank you.”
And suddenly everyone is cooing, as if they saw a cute animal???
You’re just -
…
You set the book down. No need to cry because somebody did something nice for you.
“Loop, I, uh.” The Teen thumbs through a little homemade book, nervous. “I didn’t know what to get you. Because you can’t eat and you don’t really have hobbies and you don’t even shower or anything - "
“I thought you said you still need to bathe?” Stardust mumbles, blinking wide-eyed.
“SO I GOT YOU THESE COUPONS.” They place the book in your hands. “And when you give one to me I’ll sabotage someone’s food for you like it says on the coupon?”
The Housemaiden’s jaw drops. “WAIT, WHAT?”
The Fighter is sweating. “Hey, wait, whoa, what, uh, what kinds of sabotages, Bonbon?”
You flip to the first page. ‘Putting wasabi in Za’s food.’
Some involuntary, soft expression crosses your face.
“You’re, um, smiling, I think - " He sniffles. “IT’S A SPICY THING, ISN’T IT????”
“Noooooooo.”
The next page says, ‘Potatoes in Frin’s food,’ and the next declares, ‘Making Dile’s food too sweet.’ There are multiple sabotages for everyone, even the Housemaiden and the Teen’s sister. At the end, there’s a couple pages of blank coupons, for you to write your own…
That’s a lot of power.
And it makes mealtimes a little more… entertaining. For you. Since normally you just sit there and wait for them all to finish.
“… this is very sweet.” You put the coupon book next to the origami book. “That might be my favorite so far.”
It’s only barely a lie. Anything from Stardust’s party is a treasure to you.
But watching the Teen so excited over winning your favor is just an added bonus.
Next is…
Okay. Fine. You don’t dislike the Fighter. You can’t bring yourself to actually dislike any of them. He’s just a lot, lately. And as nice as these presents have been so far…
You shudder to think what the Fighter got you.
Obviously it’s something stupid, or it’s him overstepping again. Assuming the two of you are something that you don’t want to be. Assuming you want to be part of whatever puzzle him and Stardust are making together. All of that - those kinds of connections passed you by years ago. It’s not something on your mind anymore.
But it’s not as if you want to cut either of them out of your life entirely. You just don’t want the assumptions.
That’s all.
He hands you an envelope.
There are two tickets for a theatre show in town. Something that looks very dramatic, if the posters of it plastered around town are accurate. It’s a show you’ve secretly wanted to see for weeks, and that Stardust has not-so-secretly wanted to see, but the tickets are hard to find.
Obviously not impossible, because you’re holding a pair.
“You can, like, take whoever you want, but I assume it’s gonna be Sif.” The Fighter watches you nervously, unable to look you directly in the eye. “I know I’ve been cutting into your secret buddy time, with all my, uh. Present making stuff. So this is something I can’t butt in on.”
Time is a very valuable resource for you. Especially time that you’re not spending overthinking, or stewing, or brooding...
Giving you an excuse to have an uninterrupted night with Stardust, doing something you both like, without expectations.
It’s embarrassingly thoughtful of him.
“That sounds… ”
You watch him, and. Gah, that’s disgusting. He’s looking for your approval.
… but not in a weird way. Not in the way that he used to look at you during the loops. He cares about you, that’s clear, but in the same way he cares about the Housemaiden. Where he knows that even though you’re more peers than you are with the Researcher or the Teen, there’s not a thought in his mind that he should make your relationship with him anything other than platonic.
Which. Feels better, honestly.
Like these tickets are a promise that no matter what happens, you’ll be here, too. Even if you’re not participating in all that.
“It’s nice.” You should throw him a bone. “If the tickets aren’t sold out, you should come too.”
His face blanks.
“As friends only,” you add, needing that to be clear.
“… it is sold out.” He gives you a wobbly smile. “But I can catch you both on the next one, how’s that?”
“Sounds like a plan,” you say, and hand the tickets to Stardust. They secure them into one of their pockets for you.
Everyone shoots you one last smile and then, blissfully, all of the attention leaves you.
And immediately descends onto Stardust.
Like sharks finding blood.
“Siffrin.”
“Sif.”
“Frin.”
“SIFFRIN!!!” The Housemaiden leaps to give her present first. “It is YOUR TURN now!”
“M-me???” They look to you for help. “But I? But you? It’s? Um???”
Oh, he should know by now that you’re not doling out presents at the moment. “Did you really think you aren’t getting presents? When you spent all this time giving things to them?”
Yes, it’s what YOU thought, but who says you can’t have a little fun slinging that accusation back towards them?
“You took the words right out of my mouth, Loop.” The Researcher laughs, once, like a bark. “Siffrin, we really need to get that self-sacrificial streak out of you.”
He hides his face in his collar, muffled groans escaping out.
Ridiculous.
But endearing.
“Here you go, Siffrin!!!” The Housemaiden extends her gift to him with a sickeningly sweet smile.
Hiding his face, they take the box, showing… a magnifying glass?
“I know you don’t like reading very much, Siffrin, but, I, uh.” She sweats as she explains. “You?? Squint at the page when you do??? So I think maybe, you, don’t like it because it’s hard??????”
They laugh, hollow. “That, um… ”
The Teen passes them one of the books from their gift pile. “Test it?”
Stardust sighs, cracking open the book and holding the magnifying glass to it. “I can, I just don’t think it’s.”
He pauses.
And reads.
………………
“Um.” They hand the book back to the Teen. “…………………………………… that helps.”
“YAY!!!” She giggles, lurching forward to hug them. “IT WORKED!!!!!”
“Sif, don’t tell me you need glasses, too.” The Fighter squeals. “Actually, it’d be pretty cute…!”
“Traumatic head injuries do alter your vision even after the loss of depth perception.” The Researcher taps the side of her head. “And if you went to that doctor we asked you to visit, Siffrin - "
“Mmmmmrgh.”
“ - I’m sure you would learn a lot about yourself - "
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmrghhgppmh.”
“M’dame, maybe this isn’t the time to… ” The Fighter shakes his head, waving her off. “Okay, Sif, I know I kind of got you a gift already by proxy, but, uh, in case Loop didn’t actually end up taking you to the show, I had a backup… ”
“Oh, so Stardust gets two gifts and I don’t?”
The question doesn’t faze him at all. “Sorry, Loop. Partner privileges. And you opted out of that.”
“I’ll opt back in if it gives me free stuff.” Over your dead body, but it’s a fun joke.
Stardust blushes as you and the Fighter actually share a laugh for once.
Maybe it’s not so bad if the two of them are a Thing, if you can use that to effectively embarrass Stardust.
Though the present the Fighter hands over isn’t anything to write home about. Just a new pair of gloves. They supposedly match the alternate eyepatch he made for Stardust months ago, but you know nothing about fashion.
At least Stardust is pleased with it.
“Here, Frin!” The Teen lays a barely-wrapped blanket in their lap. “It, um. Didn’t wrap very well. But I didn’t know what to get you!! Except when you’re not wearing your cloak you’re ALWAYS COLD!!!”
Well, yeah, their circulation is trash without the cloak.
Point made for you: Stardust’s already draping the blanket over their shoulders. Even though the fire supposedly makes the room all warm and toasty.
Not that you can feel it.
They squeeze the Teen in a tight hug. “It’s perfect, Bonbon.”
The Teen pouts, hugging back with the same force.
The Researcher also has a real, physical gift for Stardust, likely for the same reasons she gave you one. When they tear away the paper, there’s a small roll of fabric with carving tools.
Usually Stardust just uses their dagger, but…
“I figured it would be safer to give you a wider away of tools for the job,” the Researcher explains. “Though I do hope you take the advice you give to Boniface in their knife lessons to keep these sharp.”
He gives her a big thumbs-up. It says a lot about Stardust’s recovery that even the Researcher fails to bat an eye at the idea of giving them something edged. Right after the loops, everyone was hesitant to let them engage in knife hobbies (not hard to guess why), but now… it’s not even a question.
…
Oh.
That’s all the gifts, isn’t it?
And you still… didn’t give yours out.
“Well, that was a wonderful gift exchange!” The Housemaiden says, hands clasped together.
You… you think you got a comb for the Housemaiden? Something with plum flowers carve on it? Not that you’d have the skill to carve that, you’re horribly out of practice, but you saw it and it reminded you of her, so… so you snatched it up. Forgot to even pay for it at the market you were at. It’s a detail you’ll omit, because Mirabelle is just so… funny about taking things for free even though you all literally saved the whole country.
…
“Oh, oh! I should check to see if the food’s ready!” The Teen declares, cheeks puffed out.
The Teen. It was something illicit, right? Like Stardust’s gift. Right! Oh, the weighted dice. They’ve tried their hand at cheating during game night. But they never have a good enough plan. Wouldn’t it be fun to try and show them the ropes? You think you remember having a set of cheater’s dice when you were Bonnie’s age - it’s just another rite of passage, isn’t it?
…
“As much as I’ve enjoyed the treats this morning, I’m very much looking forward to eating something more substantial,” the Researcher says, smiling softer than usual.
The opera glasses, those were for the Researcher. Since she complains every time you go to a stage play of not being able to see properly. What’s the use of having those glasses if they’re not even fitted to her prescription correctly? Though it’s her fault for always getting your group in the nosebleeds. Odile’s fear of heights magically disappears whenever it’s cheaper for her to to sit higher up.
…
“Uh, but you didn’t spice it too much, right Bonbon?” The Fighter asks.
You spent too long looking for a stupid Crafted thimble that would fit anyone’s thumb. Since the Fighter Crafted his own fingers to be so impossibly big for NO reason. And it’s not as if you could have measured his fingers without him knowing exactly what you were going to do, or for him to misinterpret your intentions in an embarrassing and ‘comedic’ way. Isabeau really should have had one before all of this, honestly, if he’s serious about his new career path.
…
They’re all going to move on without you, aren’t they?
And.
You set it up like that. That’s how you’ve operated with them for the past two years. Stayed here, looking pathetic, didn’t… make enough of an effort to re-establish any of them as friends. Even if you want to. Even if you’re desperate to. Because trying would mean… what? The chance of rejection?
The idea of any of them rejecting you, after all you’ve been through. The thousands of times you’ve seen them die.
It’s.
It’s not something you can see yourself getting over.
But where does that leave you? Standing here, watching them form tight bonds with a less traumatized version of yourself? Pushing them away whenever they try to ask you how your day’s going?
Stars, you told Stardust to be honest with them, and he is. But you can’t even take your own advice?
Speaking of which, they’re staring at you. “Loop? Did you - "
“OKAY. LISTEN.” This is an embarrassing explosion on your part, but you need to get it out! “I DID. GET GIFTS FOR EVERYONE.”
“Oh!”
“Oh?”
“AAAH?”
“Did you?”
You said you did this whole time, right… ?
They’re just. Not here.
Because it’s embarrassing.
“I, um.”
You shrink, seeing all of those pairs of eyes on you. All of them expectant. Happy, somehow?
Okay.
It’s fine.
Get it out. Admit it.
“I wrapped them two months ago and forgot to label them.”
Everyone stops breathing.
“And I don’t know which ones go to all of you.”
You don’t know what you’re expecting. Laughter, maybe? Either out of endearment or derision?
But all you get is. More stares that would run your blood cold if you had any left.
“… so, uh, can I say it now?” Bonnie asks, watching the adults for approval. “Because it’s really crabbing obvious now.”
“I… ” Stars, you can’t deal with this happening today. “………………… please don’t.”
Odile sighs. “But you know that we all - "
“Yes.”
“And we don’t think any less of you because - "
“It’s… hard to believe, but. I know.” You pinch the space where your nose would go, if you still had it. “I just. Don’t want to get into it right now.”
“Will you ever get into it, Loop?” Isabeau asks, hypocrite that he is. “You know we want to help, and if - "
“Do you think dredging this up is helping?”
One day you’ll have to say it.
You know that.
Just.
Not today.
Please.
“We can help without saying it?” Mirabelle suggests, taking your hands into hers. “I mean! I think I’d like to say it one day, and ask HOW, or why, but… but you know we all want to help you, right Loop?”
It’s hard to believe that.
“And that we also want to be your friend?”
It’s harder to believe that.
“A-and that doesn’t have anything to do with other people we just so happen to be friends with?”
That one’s an impossibility. You narrow your eyes.
“It has a little bit to do with that.” Odile’s the only one brave enough to admit it. “But not to the capacity that I know you’ve blown it up in your head.”
Urgh, that’s.
That’s probably true.
Blind her for always needing to be so correct and sensible.
“I think what M’dame is trying to say, is… you know we want you around, right Loop? Like, I really want to get to know you better, even outside of your whole… um, past.”
Very careful way of saying it.
“YEAH! I do too!” Bonnie sneers. “You still haven’t told me how you glow.”
“And if there are gifts that are un-given… ” A scary glint passes over Odile’s glasses. “We reserve the right to collect them, don’t we?”
After you went through all that trouble to purchase and wrap things… it WOULD be a waste not to give them out.
Though you’re exhausted. Do you have to do it right this moment?
“… can we try pinning gifts to faces after you eat?” You need a break.
“Of course, Loop… ” Mirabelle seems proud of you for asking to leave, somehow? “Sometimes Hearth Day is really overwhelming for people. It’s not just you.”
Yeah, well, this little admission is… throwing a wrench into your mood.
At least nobody dares to call too much attention to it. Yet.
That definitely won’t last forever. Soon there will be questions, heart-to-hearts, apologies… stars, you’ll have to tell them how long you looped for, won’t you?
That’s a problem for future Loop.
“I’m going to lay down while you do the… eating thing.” You’ve earned a little bit of antisocial behavior, haven’t you?
“Oh, sure!” Isabeau beams at you. “We’ll give you a little extra time after, too.”
You nod in thanks, ready to retreat upstairs…
… before being caught on the arm by Stardust.
“Loop.” He smiles. “Thank you for doing that.”
For what? “Blowing my own cover?”
“Being honest.” They pat you on the shoulder, encouraging. “They’ve all wanted to help this whole time, you know.”
Acknowledging that is just going to make you cry. So you won’t.
“Well, congratulations, then!” You give them a mirror version of their own smile, without the mouth. “My little admission was actually your present for today.”
They stare at you.
Judging.
And tilt their head. “Are you just saying that because you forgot to give me a real present?”
…
You bolt up the stairs, wondering if you could fold your ears over like a ravioli if you still had them to block out Stardust’s laughter.