Chapter Text
You have heard this before.
-
As you float in a lightless void, body suspended in nothingness, you think to yourself, What if you were to tell everyone you’re in a time loop, this time around?
Then, the world resets around you.
-
You’re not sure why you didn’t do this last time, if you’re honest.
…well, okay, that’s not quite true. You really did plan on telling everyone (minus maybe Boniface) about your predicament last loop, when you first realized you were back in the general store, mid-squint at some moldy books you still couldn’t make out the names of. But then you had seen Siffrin, alive, and then had heard a voice ringing in your head, and subsequently had an exhaustingly long talk with that voice; needless to say, you were not especially stoked at the idea of another emotional conversation so soon. It was easy, then, for the idea to just… slip from your mind, for the moment. By the time you found your party together again you were at the Clocktower for your sleepover for the second time, and you didn’t much want to add to everyone’s worries for the journey ahead.
You’d tell them after you got through the so-called Death Corridor alive , you reasoned, but by then the moment had passed. Your trap master had seemed a little annoyed at first that you were second-guessing their work when you bluntly told them to “check again” after they hadn’t found anything; but their expression had quickly changed when they eventually found the switch and a giant rock had hurtled to the ground just feet away, narrowly missing everyone. Your relief at surviving past the literal first hallway had taken priority over a heartfelt discussion, at the moment, but everyone else had moved on quickly after that, and it was easier to just fall in line behind the others at that point. There would be more downtime in the House later, surely, and you didn’t want to distract everyone from the powerful Sadnesses that populated the floor.
And then Siffrin got pushed into one of the King’s Tears.
You only had a moment to look at his face, frozen in shock, before–
(a tug)
And you were once again squinting at some moldy books, splitting headache behind your eyes in full force. You grimace and pinch the bridge of your nose, resisting the urge to sigh heavily.
You’re glad you didn’t have a chance to see Boniface’s reaction at that. It’s not their fault, you know, even if an uncharitable part of your brain can’t help but be annoyed that they didn’t look where they’re going, didn’t they know the House is dangerous, they can’t just act like it’s a game -
You release the death grip you have on your nose and blink aggressively, once. No, you can’t hold that against them. They’re a preteen, for gem’s sake. They were already inconsolable after Siffrin lost his eye, and you haven’t missed how they’ve treated him differently ever since. They’re quicker to anger, never get within arm’s length of him, and, most damningly, won’t look them in the eye. As a result, they’ve been gravitating towards you more often, lately, which you don’t mind - despite your distaste towards children in general, Boniface’s wormed their way into your heart (too embarrassing to say so aloud, of course, but you think they know, anyways) - but, well. You can tell that they miss him. If they knew that they caused his…freezing, even by accident, you don’t think they would ever truly get over it. You’ll make sure to leave that part out, when you tell everyone. Lost in thought, you miss the door’s bell jingling, and only snap out of it when you hear your name being called.
Right on cue. You turn, and school your face into a more normal expression for the rogue’s sake. “Oh, Siffrin,” you say, unconsciously slipping into the same cadence as last time.
They smile at you - you, thankfully, must look normal enough that it doesn’t immediately concern them - and open their mouth, presumably to tell you about the evening’s plans, but you cut them off before you can think better of it. “I apologize for sending you on a second quest, but could you do me a favor?” You keep your tone even. No need to preemptively worry them. “There’s something that’s come up regarding our journey tomorrow that I would like to tell everyone about. And you seem to know where everyone is, don’t you?” You nod at the slightly-crumpled piece of paper in his hand, after having seen him fiddle with it during your last loop.
“Oh!” Their eyebrows raise briefly at your words. “Sure, Odile! I mean, that’s already what I was here for, haha. Mira had the idea of having a sleepover tonight at the Clocktower!”
“Ah, yes,” you respond dryly, “the Clocktower we already planned to meet at? I’ll be there regardless, but nonetheless I would like to discuss this with everyone before that, if possible.” You let the wry smile that’s made its way onto your face fade into an expression that you hope conveys the importance of your request. “If you could gather everyone at-” you quickly rack your brain for the best place to talk outside the range of prying ears. Dormont’s villagers, for what little you’ve talked to them, are nice enough; but they hardly need to hear about how you’ve now failed twice on the first floor of the House. No need to instill doubt about your party’s abilities. “-the meadow south of here in the next couple of minutes, that would be great. I’d do it myself, but…” You tap your bad leg once. “You’re a lot faster than I am.”
Siffrin’s brows knit together as their questioning eyes meet your own (you don’t usually reference your injury to them), but they shake their head and steel themself, giving you a large smile and a two-fingered salute in its place. “On it, Madame! Operation: Important Talk is a go!” He turns to leave, but seems to think better of it, whipping back around. “Wait, I should ask. When you say ‘everyone’, is that code for ‘all adults emotionally equipped to deal with a tough conversation’, or actually everyone?”
You smirk, leaning back a little. “I’m sure Boniface would feel left out if we had a big talk without them.” It’s a valid question to ask. You don’t expect Boniface to understand much of what you’re saying, to be honest (you yourself barely understand the circumstances you find yourself in at this point), and you don’t particularly want to simplify the situation with a metaphor a child can wrap their head around, but they deserve to know what’s going on. Plus, what you said is true – the only thing they hate more than not understanding something is being left out due to their age. You get where they’re coming from, you suppose. At their age you took the phrases ‘adults-only talk’ and ‘you’ll understand when you’re older’ as personal slights against your intelligence.
“Right again!” Siffrin replies, jolting you from your thoughts. Your decades of training yourself stoicism are the only thing that prevent you from jumping at his words. “See you at the meadow, Odile.”
…You silently thank the Expressions that they didn’t try to make a pun to you, right now.
–
Mirabelle’s the first to arrive at the meadow after you, making her way down the path with a fierce power walk. When she sees you, sitting under one of the surrounding trees, her pace hurries further, a look of determination on her face. “Madame!!!” She shouts, louder than you would have liked. What’s the point of finding a secluded place to talk if she’s going to yell loud enough for all of Dormont and the King to hear?! “Are you all right?”
You shake your head as she approaches, allowing yourself a smile at her resolute expression. “Perfectly fine, Mirabelle. I just have something to discuss with you all, and didn’t want to sully the peaceful atmosphere of the Clocktower with hard conversations.”
More accurately, though you wouldn’t admit it out loud, you didn’t want to make the trek over there. Your only options to get across the broken bridge were jumping over the small river (embarrassingly hard for you to do considering your knee. You’re only in your forties, such trivial acts of physicality should not be this dread-inducing), or wading through the ice-cold water below, which was unappealing for obvious reasons. Plus, the afternoon was still young, judging by the sunlight still filtering through the leaves above you - Boniface wouldn’t ask you to help shape samosas with them for a couple hours yet, and you still actually needed to pick up a few Tonics and supplies before heading into the House… best not to backtrack.
“Ah…hard conversations?” Gems, Mirabelle looks worried now. You should have chosen your wording a bit more carefully. “Did something happen? I know we have a difficult trek tomorrow, but…” She trails off, refusing to meet your eyes.
You think back to her speech after dinner, and reply carefully, waiting until she meets your gaze before you start to talk. “Rest assured, I will still be joining you tomorrow. All of us will. None of us would leave you behind, Mirabelle. No matter what.” You might have put a little too much force behind your words, but the sentiment still rings true. You may not share her specific anxieties - it would simply be irresponsible to have come this far together only to chicken out at the last moment - but you can relate to the uncertainty that comes with it. (Without your permission, your mind conjures up an image of lightless curls and a sardonic smile, looking at you with mocking pity- but you shut that thought down before it gets any further. Focus on the present.)
A stifled sniffle. Your eyes refocus on her, and you’re startled to see her tearing up. “Oh…Madame!” She makes a little gesture, which you now recognize as her going in for a hug, before realizing who she’s talking to and stopping, electing to clasp her hands in front of her instead. “Thank you. That’s…pretty much exactly what I needed to hear.”
I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear , you don’t say out loud, still half-remembering a distant memory. Dial it back a little. Instead, you crack a dry smile. “Huh. Maybe I’m better at these emotional confrontations than I thought.”
Mirabelle giggles between her hiccups and brings her hands to her eyes, wiping her tears away as she takes a deep breath. With a series of exaggerated blinks, her eyes eventually clear, her small smile still a little wet, and she settles in across from you on the ground, primly adjusting her skirt as she kneels down in front of a neighboring tree. You’re still rather impressed at the care she takes regarding her clothes, you think, watching her absent-mindedly brush her thumb over the front of her brooch - you’re sure the back of your light jacket has all sorts of pieces of grass and dirt on it, from your own seated position.
A moment passes in silence, and you realize you never actually answered her question. “Anyways. Yes, something did happen, which is what I wanted to speak to you all about. I’m just going to wait for everyone first before getting into it, if you don’t mind.” You keep your tone even, making sure your face doesn’t betray your own worriment.
“Of course!” She smiles at you, and you fall into a companionable quiet, listening to the light breeze and occasional bird call wind its way through the scene before you’re interrupted by another shout.
“DILE!!!” You hear before you see Boniface sprinting past the row of trees, Isabeau and Siffrin following a few steps behind at a more moderate jog. They continue on, yelling at you and Mirabelle. “FRIN SAID YOU HAD A SERIOUS ADULT TALK TO GIVE TO ALL OF US AND THAT I’M INCLUDED! I’M NORMAL AND CAN BE TRUSTED WITH SERIOUS ADULT TALKS!!!” You can’t suppress a smile as they run up to you, jabbing a finger into your chest (though they leave a tiny bit of space between your shirt and their hand). “I. Am. So. Ready. To. Hear. This. If it’s you bringing it up then that means it HAS to be good.”
Mirabelle giggles at Boniface’s antics, prompting them to turn their attention to her. “Belle. Dile didn’t tell you what the serious adult talk was about yet, right? Because if she did I think I might die right here. It’s too unfair.”
She fake-gasps dramatically in response, placing a hand over her chest. “Bonnie! No! Madame wouldn’t DARE to tell me first. She would never betray your trust like that!!!”
“Hmph. Good.” Boniface nods seriously, crossing their arms as they sit down in the space between you and Mirabelle. “Guess we just need to wait for those slowpokes then.”
“Hey!!!!!!” You hear Isabeau shout, having finally made it to the rest of you alongside Siffrin, who gives a little wave to the group. “We’re not slowpokes! You’re just too fast for us, Bonbon!” He makes a show of breathing heavily, resting a hand on a nearby tree to ‘catch his breath’. “The speed of a preteen on a mission is nothing to sneeze at, right, Sif?”
Siffrin startles from where they had sat on your side, clearly not expecting to be addressed so soon, but recovers quickly. “Yep,” they smirk, “I might have to give up my title of the fastest one between us! Guess that means Bonnie will have to lead everyone tomorrow…”
“Heh.” They stick up their nose. “As I deserve! I’m the bestest at adventuring anyways!”
“It’s true…” Isabeau continues the bit, looking down at Boniface with puppy-dog eyes as he plops down beside Siffrin. “They’ll have to take us all the way to the King…”
“Which will be EASY!” Boniface nods again, determined.
Siffrin pipes up, never one to relent. “Pick up all the tonics themselves!”
“I already get to carry them all around!”
“Yell out attacks for everyone to do.”
They take a moment to seriously consider the job, then wrinkle their nose. “Okay wait that part sounds hard.”
“Be in charge of making appropriate puns…” He winks at them.
“That’s not a crabbing job!!!” You can feel their resolve wavering, now, as they realize how much Siffrin actually has to do for the party.
…Does he actually do that much for everyone while exploring? You wonder if you’re putting too much pressure on him. Surely you should be pulling your weight more. You’re an expert on most Craft-related matters, of course, anything to do with Ka Bue, history (though Mirabelle or Isabeau are always happy to inject if it has to do with Vaugarde or the Change Belief), and between you and Mirabelle, most other academic subjects are covered; but for all your book smarts and experience Siffrin’s usually the one picking up the slack during combat, or times of actual stress and importance. You’re reminded, with a distant pang of guilt, of how you basically forced them to take point in the House, the first time around. The second time, they just assumed without you saying anything. And you just co-opted them to gather everyone a few minutes ago for you. They agreed to it, but they agree to every request any of you give them, regardless of content. And for what, to save you a few minutes of walking around and talking to everyone? You resolve to have a discussion with them later to try and relieve some of their duties.
Unbeknownst to the thoughts swirling in your mind, Isabeau continues undeterred. “Determine what type each Sadness is…”
“OKAY,” Boniface replies grumpily, apparently having had enough. “I take it back. Frin. You can still be in front.”
“But that’s not all. You also have to…” Siffrin pauses dramatically, “find all the traps!!!”
“Noooo!!!” They shout, jumping back up. “I already said I take it back!!! You do all the boring jobs. I’ll stick to the fun ones.”
Isabeau grins at them. “Like snacks?”
“Like snacks.”
You watch them all light-heartedly bicker with vague amusement, and very much do not think about Siffrin’s recent track record at trap-finding. Is he in charge of too many things to keep track of? Or is it something else? Usually, they do a good job and don’t miss anything. Is their perception impacted that much from their injury? You surreptitiously close an eye and squint, but see no obvious difference at the scene before you.
“Oh! Sorry Madame!” Mirabelle interjects, having come to her own conclusions from watching your face shift. “We’re ready to hear whatever you have to say!”
Right. More pressing matters to get to. You crack your other eye open and smooth out your face. Let’s get to it, then. You take a moment to take a breath, ignoring how you can feel everyone’s eyes on you when you do. You stare straight ahead, incidentally back at Mirabelle, and begin.
“Let me preface this by saying that what I say might sound outside the realm of possibility. I might think the same, in your position. But by now we’ve known each other long enough that I hope you all can tell that I am serious. This is not a joke, or a prank.”
Well, best to start with this. “How many of you are familiar with the concept of a ‘time loop’?”
Mirabelle, unsurprisingly, nods enthusiastically, joined a moment later by Isabeau voicing the affirmative. Siffrin looks around at the others, then hesitantly shakes his head, and Boniface continues to just look at you.
“I figured as much.” You did. “To put it simply, I’ve lived through today before. I find myself in Dormont, where we spend the day preparing to enter the House, we all have a sleepover at the Clocktower, we enter the House to fight the King… and then everything resets. I’m back in Dormont, memories intact, but none of you all remember what happened before.”
Mirabelle’s hands fly up to her face. “So we’ve been to the House? Did we beat the King?!”
“Ah… not that I’ve seen yet, no,” you say with a note of regret, “so far, the loops reset before we even reached him.”
Isabeau levels a look at you. “How many times has this happened, M’dame?” His tone is even, smile deliberately placid, and you can’t help the spark of annoyance that runs through you. Is he seriously trying to calm you like you would a wild animal? You’re holding up fine this loop, considering. None of them remember your desperation from before, of how every time you looked at everyone yesterday you had ‘that really scary look in your eye’. This time, surely you’re acting as you normally do. But Isabeau’s expecting a reply, so you raise an eyebrow to tell him that you know what he’s doing, and reply in the same infuriatingly calm inflection to him.
“Only twice, so far. This is my third run through this day.”
“Wait, so the time loop could end at any moment?!” Mirabelle whisper-shouts, her mouth downturned as she glances between everyone. “How do you know it’s a loop and not just…two do-overs?”
You take a moment to seriously think about the question. You can’t answer for sure, of course, there’s hardly been enough time for you to gain any information about the loops at all. Last time, you were rather preoccupied having a conversation with and subsequently thinking about your new… ally , and testing the specifics of your circumstances was the least of your worries. But, Loop had seemed to know a bit about your situation, and from their words, they were under the impression that you would be in this time loop business for quite a while. They…could be wrong, you suppose, and the loops could be pulled out from under you at any moment; but you have an inkling that nothing will work out so simply for you. Even if these loops ended this time; in an ideal world where you ascended the House perfectly, avoided every gems-forsaken rock trap and Tear, brought the King to his knees, saved Vaugarde, and had a heartfelt goodbye with your party; something doesn’t sit right with you about such a neat ending. You’re loath to base your opinions on a hunch , of all things, with no actual evidence save for conjecture from a mysterious being with an oddly-shaped head that seemed to hate you , but truly, what was the alternative?
(Around you, the wind picks up, and on it, you can barely make out the faintest wisp of sweetness. How nice. The boulangerie in town must have just put out a fresh batch of pastries.)
You realize, after a beat, that everyone’s looking at you, and you bite back a sigh. Even Boniface seems unwilling to interrupt your thoughts, though by the way their eyes look slightly glazed you imagine they’re mostly just too lost in their own head to speak up. But everyone’s waiting on you, so you play your part, and answer truthfully. “I don’t think the loops will suddenly end, no. At least not until we save Vaugarde. Any further than that… I’m not sure.”
“Oh, then this time loop must be a good thing!” On your right, Siffrin says cheerily. You glance at him and he’s smiling, in stark contrast to the serious and slightly concerned expressions around you. “If you get as many tries as it takes to beat the King… Guess you got a blessing of your own, Odile!”
At that, Mirabelle suddenly can’t meet anyone’s eyes.
For your part, you, admittedly, are more than a little surprised at his naivety, then chide yourself. More likely, you’re just being the cynical one. And maybe they’re right - you had to watch Siffrin die, yes, twice , but - they’re here now. Alive, and with no knowledge of their death. Boniface doesn’t know what they (indirectly, not their fault ) did. Mirabelle’s reassured by your words and has a newfound confidence about tomorrow. Isabeau didn’t pull you aside to ask you, surprisingly bluntly, ‘why you’re looking at Sif like that’. You have a chance to fix everything. Infinite chances to act perfectly, and prevent the others from harm - it’s your responsibility to look after them, after all. The others (save for Boniface, obviously) are adults, of course, but you’re more of an adult. You joined Isabeau and Mirabelle all those weeks ago to help relieve some of the pressure this journey would inevitably have on them, and if you can save everyone, save them , by simply reliving the same day a few times, you’re more than happy to take that trade.
You don’t know about the Change God blessing you as it did Mirabelle - maybe it was an errant Expression, maybe it was just Loop deciding to lend you a hand; but you can’t deny that it is a sort of blessing.
You’re grateful that it’s you, stuck here. The others, you think, for all their strengths, would fold under the pressure, at the loneliness. You’re not so selfish to think yourself stronger than them, but you are better at thinking, at planning, at acting carefully and rationally under times of great stress. You were a part of academia for years, after all: you know what it’s like to follow an unchanging schedule for months at a time, with no one to properly rely on but yourself.
“Ha! Maybe so, Siffrin.” You reply and offer them a grin, trying not to dwell on the fact that it feels like you’re baring your teeth.
As the day winds on, you continue answering various questions from Mirabelle, who seems more curious about the mechanics of the loops than anything else, dodging Isabeau’s thinly-veiled concern, keeping an eye on Boniface, who still wasn’t asking as many clarifying questions as you expected, and plainly not revealing anything about Siffrin’s deaths to them, for a while more, as the bustle of Dormont you can faintly hear in the distance relaxes the further the sun dips below the clouds. You can’t quite see the Clocktower from here, but wouldn’t be surprised if it had been over an hour already.
The conversation gradually dies out after a while, between your regrettably-limited knowledge about the loops and the others losing steam from rapid-fire pelting you with questions; and shifts to more general planning for tomorrow. It’s Boniface that finally breaks you all up, complaining about being bored, and needing to start dinner. You’re grateful for their directness, having run out of things to say, and the others all agree to go their separate ways for the time being. Mirabelle asks everyone about the sleepover, and you all agree to it.
You’re about to leave yourself, everybody having scattered to do their last-minute preparations, but see a shadow fall over you as Boniface once again demands you to help them prepare dinner, and you readily agree. They help you stand up, thankfully without comment, and you make your way to the Clocktower together, with the caveat that you help them lug around a bag full of entirely too many vegetables.
–
You prepare potatoes in silence, content to play the role of sous-chef. Peel, turn, peel, turn, peel, turn, chop, set aside. The work is mindless; repetitive. The only jobs Boniface lets others help them with while cooking are the unskilled and “boring” jobs, but you’ve never minded. Peel, turn. You know they don’t truly need your (or anyone’s, according to them) help with dinner. They’re a talented chef-cooker on their own, and despite them sometimes getting in their own head if your praise isn’t ostentatious enough, you know that they’re aware of and proud of that fact. No, Boniface specifically asking for your assistance is their way of letting you know that they either want to spend time with you, or barring that, as has been more common the closer the day you fight the King approaches, wanting to talk to you alone. The previous two loops, you had used your time in the kitchen to assuage their worries about the journey you had ahead of you in the House. This time, though…
Chop, set aside. You surreptitiously steal a glance at them between potatoes, and find them going to town on their dough, hands a blur of motion as they knead. You can’t quite see what expression they’re wearing behind their too-large hat, but you can imagine it just fine: face scrunched up in consternation, mouth oscillating rapidly between a frown and a pout, eyes firmly kept down. (You’ve gone too long without moving. You pick up another potato before they notice, as your mind continues to run.) You’d expected to be peppered with questions vis-à-vis time loop the instant you two were alone, and though you can practically hear their brain whirring with each wet slap! as the dough hits the bowl, they still haven’t said anything to you since you received your simple directions to “peel these”.
Peel, turn. So you peel. You truly do have an amazing amount of potato left on the counter in front of you. They’re one of Boniface’s favorites, after all. Their favorite food for their last proper meal , you think, then flinch. That’s a morbid thought, even for you. No, of course not. You won’t let it be . Siffrin was bad enough. You don’t know what you’d do if it was Boniface in their place, under that rock.
Peel, turn. You promptly shut that line of thought down. Don’t think about it.
Beside you, the bowl noises quiet, as they put the dough aside. “...it needs time to rest,” they inform you, though you know how the recipe goes by now. A few more loops and you’ll be able to make samosas by yourself if you desire to! But with their hands now free, and waiting for you to finish, they sidle up next to you, making grabby hands, and you oblige, sliding your knife and cutting board over to them as you continue your half of the work.
You do that for a few more minutes in silence only broken by the rhythmic noise of your respective tools, and it’s not until the final potato that they finally speak up beside you. “Are you bored of us?”
You blink, and tighten your grip on the peeler so it doesn’t slip out of your hands. “Pardon?”
They won’t meet your eyes. “Are you bored of us? ‘Cuz if I had to do the same day over and over I’d get really bored.”
You take a moment to reply until you finish the potato, and set down your instrument. “It’s only my third time, Boniface. What kind of companion would I be if I got bored of everyone so quickly?”
“I dunno…but it’s like,” they cast their eyes around the room briefly, “even though they’re my favorite, if I wereta eat samosas every day I would get bored of them.”
You incline your head. “Maybe so,” you concede, “but it’s different with the people you care about. Are YOU bored of Isabeau, or Mirabelle? You’ve been traveling with them for weeks now.”
“Well…no…but… if I had to do the same thing and have the same talks and eat the same thing over and over…” They trail off mid-sentence, eyes widening, and point a finger at you. “Wait a second. Hold on. Have you been eating samosas EVERY DAY? Dile, what about samosas? Are you bored of samosas now?!”
“I…” you are once again thrown by preteens’ short attention span, but answer honestly. “No, Boniface. I wouldn’t get sick of samosas so easily, even if I ate them every day. Because every time you make them, they’re delicious.”
“Oh!” They seem to brighten at that. “And when things are delicious, even if you get bored of them, they still taste really good?”
Despite yourself, you’re struck at their emotional intelligence, a feeling you find yourself with more and more often lately. They’re still young, of course, but they’ve had to be mature the last few months, traveling with you all. It’s been paying off - they wouldn’t have come to this conclusion when you had first met. “Exactly.” You reach down and pat their head, and can’t suppress your own smile as they grin up at you. “Now, let’s finish these non-boring samosas before everyone arrives.”
The samosas, for their part, are delicious as always. This time, though, Boniface makes a batch “‘specially for Frin, ‘cause they’re STUPID and have BAD OPINIONS and DON’T LIKE POTATOES.” Baby steps, you suppose. At least they’re thinking of him.
–
After dinner, you all retire to bed quickly, Mirabelle’s speech conspicuously absent from your routine. You’re thrown by the change in schedule, but in any case, you’re glad she was able to take your words to heart. You were mostly parroting what both you and the others had said to her in previous loops, but it doesn’t make the words any less true when you said them.
Unfortunately, though, you can’t sleep well that night. Even after Isabeau’s attempted confession, which would have woken you up if you were asleep anyways - the man cannot whisper quietly to save his life - you lie awake for what must be hours, hands clasped across your stomach as you watch shadows dance across the ceiling, visible only from the faint light shining in from the open window behind you. It’s a bright night tonight, one of the few that happen each month or so, so each beam above you is highlighted in stark contrast. It’s almost too bright, and you have the irrational thought of hanging up your coat as makeshift curtains so you can finally fall asleep.
…you’re not tired, though. You hadn’t slept during your last loop either, Siffrin’s blankly smiling face, rock inches above his head, surfacing in your mind every time you had closed your eyes. He hadn’t noticed the danger. Not until he was a stain on the ground. You’re grateful that you hadn’t been able to look at the others’ faces before you had looped back for the first time. You’re not sure you would have been able to get them out of your head, either.
You force yourself to get back to the matter at hand. You’re not tired (well, no more than usual) even though you haven’t slept. Do you…not need to? Does your tiredness reset to what it was that first day, alongside everything else? Your hunger had - you think back to your talk, and are once again grateful Boniface is such a good chef. You’d probably go crazy if you had to eat the same rations every day - though your experience hadn’t, for the few Sadnesses you actually had the chance to kill. You hadn’t sustained any serious injuries during either other loop, though, so you’re not sure how much that extends to your physical body. Loop had mentioned that your “equipment” would persist as well, and sure enough, what you had written in your notebook stayed intact.
After dinner, you had read back what you wrote yesterday. Nothing particularly useful, just little notes from what books in Dormont’s library you had quickly perused on your first loop, a few specifics from your conversation yesterday, and information about the strange…being, themself.
You don’t stop the frown your face involuntarily makes at the thought of your so-called ally. You don’t trust them, obviously, despite all they profess to be on your side; the only things you got out of them is information about your situation you would have gathered yourself given enough time, and a splitting headache, but you can’t deny that they hold the upper hand over you. (They couldn’t deny it either, having lorded their relative wealth of knowledge over you every chance they got during your conversation.)
Briefly, you consider slipping out of bed and going to demand more answers from them in lieu of laying here, but you quickly think better of it. Your situation hasn’t meaningfully changed enough to give you anything substantial to talk about - despite your cautious, irrational hope that telling everyone was enough of a change in status quo to break the loops - and you have a sneaking suspicion that if you were to approach the Favor Tree with other questions, they would shut it down and instead make fun of you for letting Siffrin die again. Which you do not need another reminder of. At the moment or potentially ever.
You let your mind wander for a while more and even lightly close your eyes, hoping your aimless thoughts are the final push to get you through the night, but ultimately have no luck. Instead, you resign yourself to waiting until the moment the morning light climbs high enough in the sky to push through the window, at which point you allow yourself to properly get up. You’ve always been an early riser, even if dawn is quite a bit earlier than you’re used to, so you don’t feel bad about leaving the others to their sleep. You change out of your nightclothes and make your way downstairs, going through your normal routine as you would any other day.
“M’dame?” It’s a few minutes later when you hear what generously might be considered a whisper from your fighter, head poking over the banisters to look at you. “May I join you?”
You bite back a sigh and wave him towards you. You can’t lie and say you weren’t expecting this at some point, given the way Isabeau had kept stubbornly trying to meet your eyes during, and then after, dinner. He meets you at the table - gems, he’s already dressed too, normally he takes hours in the morning to prepare for the day - but you gesture outside, trying to spare the others their last few minutes of precious sleep.
You sit on the steps leading up to the Clocktower, and Isabeau joins you on your right. He barely even sits before he starts to talk. “I know it’s early, and normally I wouldn’t dare to bother you so soon in the day, but we were both up, so I thought…”
Isabeau trails off, and you turn towards him and raise an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. Now that you’re getting a better look at him you can tell he’s not as put together as he usually is - his hair is brushed, but he hasn’t put his earrings on yet, and his sash lies slightly crooked against his body - he must have seen you were up and rushed to join you.
“...I thought, well. I wanted to ask you privately, before we went into the House and had bigger things to worry about. Are you okay?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” You put a healthy amount of sarcasm into your reply, and watch in real time him struggle to keep his carefully neutral expression. He grimaces (success!) and his mouth sets into a thin line, fingers carefully tapping rhythmically on his crossed arms.
“So something is off,” he concludes, tilting his head a little as he studies you. If you were actually fine you’d just berate me for reading too much into things.”
That’s…not inaccurate, you suppose. “Get to the point, Isabeau.” You’re a bit more curt this time. For all of his not-so-surprisingly-precise readings of people, he’s often too torn between not wanting to ruin his image of simpleminded strongman to actually express his worry most of the time. It’s annoying, to see him dumb himself down, (you’re sure that even Boniface can tell that he’s smarter than he projects) but the worst part is when he’s confident enough to show his hand, but not enough to actually tell you what he knows. You want to tell him that he can’t have it both ways, but you’re not sure you’re the person to say it.
He sighs, knowing you won’t back down. “The time loop. It’s affecting you more than you let on.”
“Well, yes,” you say. “Even with little differences, experiencing the exact same day three times does drive you a bit crazy. I didn’t think it was necessary to convey that to Boniface yesterday, though.”
“Sure,” Isabeau relents, “but it’s not that, is it? You’ve been vague about what actually happened in the House past ‘not making it to the King’. And you’ve been quiet and more snippy than usual, despite you being the one to bring up the loops in the first place. And-” he hesitates here, worrying his lip, “-you’ve barely looked at Sif all day.”
You have? You thought you were better, this time. He continues without you, quieter, staring ahead. “...did something happen to them? Last time?”
For all your bravado about him actually speaking his mind, you don’t actually particularly want to have this conversation now. But you force yourself to reply. “...yes.”
Isabeau sucks in a breath between his teeth, and his grip on his arms gets minusculely tighter. You put a light hand on his shoulder, but continue on, slowly. “I didn’t…mention, earlier, how the loops reset.”
“A Sadness?” His words are pulled out of him desperately, before he can stop himself. You press your hand down, more firmly, to remind him of your presence, and he thankfully relaxes minutely, back straightening a hair. You’ll take it. You’re not as gifted as the others at comforting others but right now Isabeau must be shaken enough to take any reassurance he gets.
“A trap.” You reply simply, and feel him exhale beneath you. “The second time, we…” you pause, hesitant to say that it was Siffrin that took the fall a second time, “...all got frozen in time.”
“Ah.” He still looks upset, but less so than before. It makes sense. On paper, being frozen in time doesn’t sound too bad. Past the second of shock, you’re gone before you can suffer, after all. You blink away the images of the whole frozen villages that you encountered on your journey, interlaced with Siffrin’s own face, eyes wide, smile just beginning to fade in realization, and swallow. If you’re being honest, you’d almost rather get crushed. At least pain is, vaguely, familiar.
“It’s not as bad as you think,” you offer, lamely, voice faltering. “I would rather not watch any of you die-” Isabeau’s mouth tightens, so you backtrack. “-but the loop reset immediately after, and you all were here and fine and didn’t even remember what happened, so. Not as bad, considering?”
Your voice is weak even to your own ears. Gems, you’re supposed to be the mature one; you’ve seen death before. Firsthand, even. And the consequences of these deaths clearly didn’t stick, even if your stubborn brain keeps sending you reminders that you saw it happen. The fact that you’re dwelling on it for so long is a little pathetic, if you’re being honest.
“M’dame, you know it’s okay to not be okay, right?” Isabeau’s voice floats around you, and you look up at him, but his face is warped strangely, blending in with the row of trees behind him. Are you…hallucinating? You blink to clear your vision, but your eyes are heavier than usual.
“Hm?” You say distantly, mind a thousand miles away, as you try to get your racing thoughts in order. The others will be up soon, you realize, and Boniface will insist you all have breakfast together before you enter the House, so you should probably meet them inside so they know you didn’t leave them–
“-ame? M’dame!” Isabeau shouts at you (no, ha, he said it normally, he’s just loud, right? Everything seems loud, you can hear the ocean in your ears, but Dormont’s far from the coast, so it must be the river, but the river doesn’t flow, it’s been frozen-)
“M’DAME!” A hand on your shoulder. You have déjà vu all of a sudden, didn’t you just do this? Did you even move your hand back?- “Breathe with me? Like Sif does, yeah? In…” You breathe. “Out…” You don’t like touch, normally, but his hand is solid and warm, and his sleeves brush against you and you’re reminded of yourself. “In…” Of your position in the world. “Out…”
You breathe. The roaring in your ears quiets, slowly. You’re able to blink again.
“Sorry,” Isabeau says, quietly (for once!), “I know you don’t like touch. But I lost you for a second and physicality can be grounding. You back with me?”
You nod. He removes his hand. Your shoulder is still warm.
“Good, good.” He pauses for a moment. “You were crying, Madame.”
Yes, you had gathered as much, given that your eyes still feel hot and wet and Isabeau’s look of concern before you is still a little blurry. You voice as much to him.
Isabeau’s laugh is a little strained at that. “Yes. You’re aware we’re here for you, right? Yesterday, during our…talk, you pretty much shut down every attempt any of us had when we asked how you were doing.”
“And yet you still found time to privately ask again.” You can’t quite muster the level of dry humor you’re going for, yet, but Isabeau plays along.
“But of course! I’m nothing if not stubborn!” He smiles at you playfully, but it fades to something more genuine. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth. I kinda freaked out myself when you confirmed my suspicions, and didn’t really give a thought to what you were feeling, asking you to relive that and all. I mean, you’re the one that actually remembers that, uh.”
“Oh please,” you exhale. “I’d much rather be the one comforting you than vice versa. Too much of my own vulnerability gives me a headache.”
“There’s the M’dame I know!” Isabeau opens his mouth, but seems to realize that you’re going to shut down any further questioning about your mental state, and closes it again. “...I know you won’t want to talk about it any more right now, but all of us are willing to help you with this. To be there for you. Maybe not today, but… next time?”
You know there won’t be a next time, if you can help it. “Sure, Isabeau.”
By the way his eyebrows knit together, you think he knows that as well, but you return your gaze forwards before he can say any more to you, and he lets out the breath he’s holding, deciding it’s not worth it to push it. Coward, you think, unfairly, but for once you’re grateful for his spinelessness.
–
The first floor of the House, for all you’ve struggled with it before, is surprisingly a breeze. After you point out the pillar to check in the Death Corridor, you make Siffrin show you where the switch to trigger the trap is. For next time, you inform him, and pretend to not notice Isabeau’s stumble when you say that. The Tears are easy to avoid once you stress to everyone (with probably more seriousness than is normal) to be careful around them, but otherwise, you make your way through the first floor of the House quickly and without trouble. The Nostalgie is Paper-type and easily cut down between the three of you’s Scissor skills, and even the Calamité is made quick work of with a few well-timed Jackpots. Everyone levels up enough to learn a new skill, and you in particular are excited to try out your Paper α V on the King.
You enjoy one normal onigiri, and pledge to never eat one apple onigiri again. Despite the…unconventional filling, Boniface did a good job on them, and you make sure to tell them as much.
“Are they delicious enough to never get bored of???”
You genuinely laugh at that, and look them in the eye as you reply. “Never, Boniface.”
The second floor of the House seems to be going well, too, though the Sadnesses here are substantially stronger than the others, and both you and Siffrin go down at least once during your journey. If nothing else, it’s good to know that you fainting isn’t enough to reset a loop, though you don’t especially want to test what happens if you all go down. Some Crafted Waters and Mirabelle’s heals are enough to keep you all from dying, though, and you pull her aside to thank her after a particularly harrowing battle.
Despite the toughness of your enemies, your mood steadily improves as you make your way through the floor. The keys are easy enough for Siffrin to find (no wonder, with how whatever container they’re in literally sparkles), and the light conversations you all have with each other make you smile. The second(?!) big rock that falls scares you more than you’d like to admit, but everyone’s sufficiently far away that you’re all fine, you tell yourself as you force your heart to stop beating so fast.
That all changes, though, when Mirabelle, frozen in shock, realizes that you all missed a key.
You saw the Head Housemaiden’s drawer, you saw how even after Siffrin checked it the sparkles didn’t dissipate like the others, this is the second gems-forsaken thing they’ve missed! Luckily, in everyone’s own despair, no one notices the genuine anger on your face that you can’t smooth over quick enough. It’s just a waste , to have done so much, only to be thwarted at the last minute. You stare at the wall, and try to control your breathing, missing the conversation around you.
It’s only at the sound of your name that you snap back to attention.
“Oh! Madame!!! You could loop back and make sure to grab the key, right?!” Mirabelle yells, a little desperately.
“I…could, yes,” you say, not meeting Isabeau’s eyes. “It would probably be best…”
Everyone goes quiet, then, which makes it all the more jarring when–
[Oh! My turn to give advice! And here I thought I’d be relegated to the sidelines this time.]
[Anyways. It looks like you’re stuck, Researcher! Your only real option is to find a way to loop back now.]
And you didn’t think to let me know about this key before? While we were in the room, perhaps? You think back, waiting for their response.
[You’re probably wondering how you can loop back, right? Well, you can wait for the King’s Curse to take over you all, or…]
[Hmm… weren't there some Tears back there? They might just be enough to do the trick!]
[Either way, it’s up to you! Come talk to me when you have a chance, too! I missed you yesterday!]
Wait. Can they not hear your thoughts? They had implied as much last loop, but maybe they’re just ignoring you…? You wait a beat, and frown when you hear no reply. You suppose not, then?
No matter. You turn your back on your party, feeling them watch you, and start to walk back down the hallway. “Well, everyone. I’ll see you later, I suppose.” You don’t have the energy to say more. What a waste of a loop.
“Madame???”
You don’t reply as you approach the Tear, take a deep breath, and plunge your hand in before you can think better of it. You hear a commotion behind you, but can’t make out who it is that yells your name, Curse spreading up your arm, before–
You’re back in the shop once more.
On second thought, telling everyone didn’t seem to be that useful. They didn’t seem to offer much advice for you to work on breaking the loops. Though you had some nice conversations, it ultimately just made them unnecessarily concerned about you and took up your afternoon. You’re not especially stoked to repeat that long discussion, either. You’ve always hated repeating yourself, and answering the same questions each loop for the foreseeable future is unappealing, to say the least. You sigh and leave the shop before Siffrin can come barreling in to ask you about the sleepover, en route back to the Favor Tree as per Loop’s psychic request.
–
(You got an Offering of Conversations!)
(You’ll always remember this.)
[Offerings are a type of item you can use. Each Offering is specific to one Expression, and will grant you or a party member special abilities.]
[For example, the Offering you just got is for the Expression of Conversations. When you equip this Offering, you’ll be able to Zone Out during conversations you’ve heard before!]
[Be careful with how many Offerings you equip in a single loop, though! If you make too many Offerings at one time, bad things may happen!]
[See you at the Favor Tree, Researcher!
[ ... ]
[Oh, and for those of you reading who may still be confused: our Researcher here gets these Offerings to equip in place of the Memories I or Stardust would have. I thought it would be fitting to rebrand them as something a bit more tailored to her. Fun, right? Anyways, I'll see you later, readers!]