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It’s been a few weeks since you left Dormont, and a few more since you’ve been out of the loops. It still feels surreal, travelling together with your family, waking up in a new place, a new time every day.
Your family sits around the fire, animatedly discussing the history of some Vaugardian dish you’ve never heard of (or, at least, couldn’t remember hearing of) as Bonnie prepares it for dinner. You let their words wash around you, accompanied by the soft scratching of Odile’s notetaking and the crackle of the fire under Bonnie’s dish.
You don’t join in the conversation, but you don’t need to. It’s enough for you to just sit and listen.
“Hm... Fascinating. Thank you, Mirabelle…”
“Hehehe... “
“Heh, you were right, Mira... “
Your breath catches in your throat. Those words, that cadence, they were familiar. Too familiar.
“ ... You have something to say, perhaps?”
“Oh, no, we would never.”
“Haha! It's just…”
The scene plays out in front of you, a different stage with different lighting, but the script doesn’t change. Why would it ever change?
“It's very cute, right?”
“Yes!!! It's cute!!! Your eyes light up and everything when you're learning things! It's cute!!!”
You can feel yourself slipping away. Everything around you grows hazy as your connection to the world disappears. All that remains is their voices and the script they can’t help but follow.
“Cute...? Dile isn't cute, she's old.”
The loops are over, you know this . Still, you can’t stop yourself from reacting this way.
“No, Boniface... They have a point... I AM very cute, aren't I?”
You try to center yourself, to keep yourself present, but it isn’t working. You can’t focus on anything but the feeling of your consciousness shoving itself to the back of your head.
“I wonder how cute you'll think I am when I put wasabi in your sandwiches when you least expect it.”
Your body is numb and distant. You feel like you’re floating next to it.
“You'd help me out, wouldn't you, Boniface?”
Their words still reach you. They’re all that reaches you. You can’t really parse what they mean anymore, but that doesn’t stop each sound from making you retreat farther into yourself.
“I'm always up for putting spicy stuff into people's lunches, so yeah.”
All you can do is sit, listen, and let yourself disappear.
“Sif?”
You’re so far gone, so lost in your own head that you barely even notice when Isa misses his line and the scene abruptly ends. The script is replaced with silence, filled only with the soft noises of the woods.
Distantly, you hear footsteps, slowly getting louder, then stopping. Something presses down on your body’s shoulder.
You pull together all the focus you can manage to make out the scene in front of you.
Isa is kneeling down, one arm extended towards you, hand placed on your shoulder. You want to reach out to him, to tell him that you’re fine, that it’s over, that he doesn’t have to worry.
You can’t. Your body won’t respond.
Carefully, he moves to your side, slipping one arm around you as he grasps your hand with the other. It still feels like he’s touching someone else, but his presence is still comforting.
You want to lean into his touch, to squeeze his hand, to do anything to show him that you’re here, that you care.
You can’t. It’s beyond you at the moment.
Isa holds you close, rubbing circles into your back as he brings your hand close to his chest. Slowly, the sensation feels more and more real, as the world shifts back into focus.
Your hand in his rises and falls with his breathing, the slow, steady movement grounding you.
Every movement of his is so gentle, so careful, so caring as he whispers sweet affirmations to you.
“It’s over.”
“You’re safe.”
“You’re free.”
“I’ll be here for you for as long as you need.”
“Everything will be okay.”
You don’t know what you did to deserve him, his kindness, his care-
His love-
But he’s given it so freely to you, and day by day, you let yourself accept it more and more.
Slowly, the numbness in your body, while still present, begins to fade. Gathering all of the strength and control you can muster, you weakly shift your heavy body, leaning into his hold and resting your head against his chest.
His heart beats soundly in your ear, each thump gently pulsing into your head and body, feeling more and more real with every one.
Piece by piece, you return to yourself. Everything is still hazy, but your body is yours again. You are back in the world, as a part of it rather than an outside observer.
The heavy fog pervading your being gives way to a deep exhaustion, as though all of your energy has drained away.
Even though you know you could move now, you don’t. You’re so comfortable, so tired, so safe in Isa’s arms that you just stay put.
Slowly, you look up, stretch your face into a soft smile, and mutter a soft, quiet “Thank you.” You keep your head up for long enough to see him return your smile before closing your eye, leaning back in and letting yourself drift off to sleep.
You know, even if you aren’t okay right now, someday, you will be.
And your family will be with you every step of the way.