Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It rained the day you were born. Mirabelle was the first name your mother gave you.

She named you after the plums she kept craving when you were in her stomach! And the rest of the names she gave you were all after the other things she wanted to eat when you were growing, but you haven’t used any of your backup names yet. You like being Mirabelle! You love it! Mirabelle is kind, and sweet, and loves to dig around in the dirt after school. She cries during thunderstorms and splashes around puddles when the rain's gone. The grownups say she learned to walk late because she spent all her time asking to be carried. She talks to all of the shy kids in preschool, is quiet during reading time, and falls asleep immediately when she's asked to nap. She also spills paint during arts and crafts, and can't sing very well, but that doesn't matter. Mirabelle is a great kid, so you like being her.

Which is why it hurts, when all of your other peers and classmates change their names every couple of days in preschool. None of their names are bad! You think they all fit. But your best friend is Jenny one week and Edwin the next, and two months after that he’s Kipper, then Fraiser, then Jenni again but with an I, and then Xander (because you learned the letter X and he would just not let it go). You wonder why everyone changes around you all the time, without stopping. Do they not like being themselves? It makes you sad to think about. You wish you could hug them tight and tell them that they're all wonderful. And you do! But they still change their names the next day. They still come to school in clothes you don't recognize them in. It's all so hard to keep track of. You can't help but feel left behind.

You went to your teacher to complain, and they very calmly and softly explained Change to you. It’s normal for little children to swap out their names as they start to figure out who they are. And then, they explain, when people are older, a lot of them use Craft to do the same thing with their bodies. It’s a normal part of life. They point to the statues in town, and teach you about the Change God. They want everyone to be the exact person they want to be, so it's best to experiment. Try things on. Take them off when it's not working. Edit, cut, copy, paste, transform. Big grownup Craft words you don't understand yet. Everyone in Vaugarde changes, and most people in Vaugarde Change.

One day, you won’t even be Mirabelle anymore!

You cry until you’re sent home early.

At first, your mother is proud. She’s happy that you stand up for yourself and your confidence. That you have a strong sense of self. Apparently she’s like that, too! She kept her name since she was a very little girl, and it’s nice that you’re not alone in this. Someone understands you. Neither of your parents mind that you're uninterested in the Change God, or trying out new names and clothes. That's not important to them! They love Mirabelle no matter if she's Mirabelle for ten minutes or ten years. Your mother excitedly teaches you how to weave, because everyone in your family knows how. You love spending time with her and love learning how to weave, but doing it every day bores your little fingers. 

Your mother is a lot less understanding of you when you lose interest and run off to go play in the mud. The older you get, the more she expects you to be a certain way. And that certain way is not necessarily Mirabelle. She's not cold to you, or harmful, but there's a strange pressure in the air when you're with her. You're not able to put a name to it when you're younger. All you notice is that she's very concerned with how you're dressing, who you're speaking to, what job you want when you grow up, the way you wear your hair, your grades in school, the books you read, your weird lack of playground crushes, your -

By the time you're a teenager, it's not as fun to be Mirabelle.

But you don't know what else to change into, so you stay as her.

That's difficult when everyone you ever speak to is constantly shifting. You're always asked if your name is still Mirabelle, as if you're being judged for keeping it. If you're still reading that book series, if you're still as clumsy as you were last year. How are you supposed to be less clumsy!! That's impossible! You can't Change something you have no control over, can you?

You think maybe you'll feel different about Change when you start going through puberty. It's not a change you asked for, but it's happening to you either way! This is the thing that makes people excited about Body Craft. But you look in the mirror every day, tracking every little adjustment, and nothing feels wrong. No matter how much you Change, you still look exactly like you wanted to when you were younger. There's nothing you need to edit. Everything looks like Mirabelle.

Everyone else around you is confused. You're asked if you dislike Change. You don't think you do, you just don't need it. Other people can do it, and they do it very well! But not you. You can't muster up the strength to look at yourself and decide you hate something enough to swap it out. Some adults coo at you and say that's not so strange at your age, but always tack on "you'll feel different when you're older" at the end. And you don't! You don't ever feel like that. No matter what milestone pops up that makes them go "ah, yes, this is when Mirabelle will decide she has to Change," it doesn't happen. You feel fine. You like yourself!

Why is it so bad to be happy about yourself?

Eventually, you realize even your parents, uninterested in the Change God, have Changed. It's not just about changing your name or your body, it's about how other people influence you. Their bonding is a Change, your mother's pregnancy was a Change, you being their child is a Change. So if you get bonded, that's a Change. If you have kids one day, that's a Change. One day, it'll happen. One day. One day.

Don't feel bad, Mirabelle. You can march to the beat of your own drum until then.

Except nobody likes that beat, apparently!!

Well, alright, that's an uncharitable thing to say. You have friends! People like you. It's not as if you've been pushed out of society for being weird. That's all you are - weird. People like you, and tolerate you, and hang out with you, but nobody understands you. Every once in a while, somebody steps up to the plate to try and be your best friend, to wrap their head around Mirabelle and finally understand her. It's a valiant effort, and you can tell when it's happening every time, and you can predict exactly when they're going to fail. You have it down to a science after a while.

You make a friend.

They Change, and expect you to soon after.

You don’t.

They can’t understand you.

You slowly drift apart. 

It’s the same process, the same steps that play out with every new person you meet. Every teacher you have. Your friends. Your classmates. They might cry out that you don’t have to Change, but if you don’t Change to have something in common with them, the distance grows wider between you. And it feels insincere to Change just so you don’t lose a friend. And your parents are unchanging, which should be a comfort, should be a relief, but it’s just stifling. 

So you spend your childhood with a lot of pleasant acquaintances, starving for closer friends. 

You’re not lonely, but misunderstood. 

The worst days are the Change festivals. It’s nice at first, seeing all of the pretty Housemaidens in their big, flowy robes, and the funny masks, but the expectation dampens the novelty. For the big festivals, you’re supposed to stand up in front of the whole village and announce something you’ve changed about yourself. It’s not mandatory, but you definitely get funny looks whenever you don’t stand on the platform and say you’ve changed your name. You’re probably known in town as the girl that never, ever Changes, and that’s…

It would be nice if you were known for something else. Known for being Mirabelle.

So while you watch everyone bragging about what they’ve changed about themselves every year, you sit on the sidelines. Wondering what you’ll have to change about yourself to get that excited about Changing. 

When you’re fourteen, an older teenager sits next to you. You’ve never seen him before! They have darkless hair, and a big cloak and hat, and even though they’re older he’s much smaller and shorter than you. They’re watching you curiously, and wave.

“Hi,” you say, wondering why a Cool Kid is talking to you.

“❇⟡,” they say back, and you don’t quite understand but it sounds like a greeting, “✧₊⊹✮❇ ★‧₊, ☆¿✦₊⊹¿?”

“Um.” You don’t know how to answer. “Do you speak any Vaugardian?”

Their breath hitches, and they scuttle away before you can ask more questions. That’s weird! You want to go run after them and see if something’s wrong, but.

That’s funny. Were you doing something? You’re standing. You definitely were not going onto the platform, so why are you standing?

You sit back down until you remember. And you don’t. So it must not have been that important, right?

When you’re fifteen, you sit off to the sidelines during the Change announcements as usual. An older teenager sits next to you. You’ve never seen him before! They have darkless hair, and a Housemaiden acolyte uniform, and even though they’re older he’s much smaller and shorter than you.

“Hi,” you say, wondering why a Cool Kid is talking to you. If they’re a Housemaiden in training, are they here to make you announce something?

“Hi,” they say back in a thick accent you can’t place, and wave. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Mirabelle.” Even if you’re suspicious, you try your best to be friendly. “What’s yours?”

“I’m - " The acolyte chokes. He holds his head in pain. Oh no! Oh no, you should get them some water. 

You rush over to the snacks table, but.

What were you doing over here? You’re not hungry. You’re not thirsty. Nobody’s put out desserts yet, so there’s no reason to absently snack on anything, either. You grab a baby carrot anyway. That must be why you came over, right?

You walk back to your little lonely spot, and there’s a House acolyte there. Uh oh! No, nope, you can’t go back over there. He’s probably there to get you to go speak on that platform. You’ll find another place to hang out for this festival instead! 

When you’re sixteen, you sit off to the sidelines during the Change announcements as usual. A very young adult sits next to you. You’ve never seen him before! They have darkless hair, and a Housemaiden acolyte uniform, and even though they’re an adult he’s much smaller and shorter than you.

“Hi,” you say, wondering why an Unknown Adult is talking to you. If he’s from the House, they’re probably here to get you to announce something.

“Hey, Mirabelle!” 

“Oh, have we met before?” Crab, you need to get better at recognizing people after they’ve Changed. “You must have Changed since the last time I saw you! What’s your name now?”

His face falls. “You… don’t remember me.”

“It’s rude to try and figure out who someone was before they Changed,” you explain, even if it’s kind of a lie. Most people still want to keep their friends after a Change. “What’s your name now?”

“I - “ They flinch and stand up, taking a few steps back from your spot. “I have to go.”

Before you can say anything else, he runs off. But - if you’re supposed to know who they are, shouldn’t you run after them? Something deeper in you pleads you to go after him. Don’t take your eyes off them. You keep your eyes glued to him and take off. They’re fast! They’re too fast. You take big, heaving breaths to catch up, but it’s not enough. The acolyte turns a corner, and, and, and.

Why are you here?

Where are you?

You’re out of breath, why are you running?

Are you this afraid of Change festivals? Are you this much of a coward, Mirabelle, to run away from them so anxiously? It's just one day, you need to calm down. What is wrong with you. This is why everyone in town gossips about you. You lean up against a tree and let a few big, gloopy tears fall down. Your face hurts. Your head hurts. Why are you exhausted, all of a sudden?

Maybe you’ll just go home. Your parents won’t notice, they barely even speak to you during these things anyway. 

When you’re seventeen, you sit off to the sidelines during the Change announcements as usual. A very young adult sits next to you. You’ve never seen him before! They have darkless hair, and a Housemaiden acolyte uniform, and even though they’re an adult he’s much smaller and shorter than you.

“Hi,” you say, wondering why an Unknown Adult is talking to you. If he’s from the House, they’re probably here to get you to announce something.

“… Hi,” they answer back, in an accent you can’t place. He sounds… sad? Even though he’s from the House? This should be the best time of year for them.

“Do these festivals bum you out too?”

“A little.” 

“But you’re a Housemaiden, aren’t you?” You gesture to his robes. “In training?”

“Kind of?” They let out a long breath. “It’s a long story.”

Huh! That’s interesting. You’ve never met a Housemaiden that has a complicated relationship with Change. They’re always pushing you to do more of it, always saying how great it is and how everyone needs to try it at least once. Maybe you could pry a little bit. If you do, will they have any answers for why you feel bad about Changing?

“I’m not announcing anything, if you need to vent?”

He looks at you, trying to gauge if this is a genuine offer. It is, so you smile until they believe you! They give in immediately and start spilling.

“I’m not really a Housemaiden, I just need to live at the House so… it’s just easier to go along with it?” He rests his chin in his hands and looks out at everyone making their announcements further out in the field. “I guess I never signed anything either, I just wear the uniform and pretend to be 'interested' in Change.”

“Then why did you join?”

“That’s not the important part…” They wave the question away. “It’s just… whenever anyone stops looking at me, they forget I exist?”

“That’s impossible!” You point at them. “Look at your hair, it’s so distinct!”

He laughs. “You’d think, wouldn’t you?” 

“Why does that make these festivals hard for you, though?” You know why they’re difficult for you to handle. But what does not being remembered have to do with the festival?

“Just… people I knew from when I was a kid are here.” Suddenly, he can’t look at you in the eye. “And I’m away in the House for so long, so they never…”

“Oh." That sounds... lonely. "I’ll do my best to remember you, how’s that?”

“It helps to know you’re trying to.” The Housemaiden smiles at you and stands to leave. “Thanks, Mirabelle.”

… Huh.

You’re getting a big wave of déjà vu. This view, this seat, you’re here every year, but… When you try to remember previous festivals, there’s a big hole in your memory. It was hard to notice before, but now that you’re looking at this Housemaiden…

You tug on his robes. You're grabbing them a lot harder than you meant. There's a desperation in your muscle memory that you can't find the origin for.

“I didn’t tell you my name.”

“… Whuh oh.” The Housemaiden hides his face from you. “Sorry.”

“Not sorry!” You keep pulling on the robe, insistent. “Oh no, we’ve talked before, haven’t we? I’ve been a huge crab to you and didn’t know it?”

“Mirabelle, it’s okay.” They sit back down. “Do you remember anything now?”

You think. You think very, very hard, until a headache starts forming. You cough out a puff of sweet air. “I’m sorry. I don’t.”

“That’s fine. Nobody does.” He smiles, but there’s no happiness in it. “It means a lot that you tried.”

“What’s your name?” Maybe if you had a name, you could remember the next time you see them!

“It’s ★‧₊,” they say, and wow, you can’t remember that at all! That fully left you as soon as you heard it. “But nobody can remember it even if I’m talking to them, so the Housemaidens just call me Traveler.”

“Well, Traveler, let’s hang out!”

“What?” Traveler blinks at you, confused. “Why?”

You shrug. “Why not?”

“Because you’ll forget it?”

“But you won’t, right?” You stand up and pull Traveler up out of their seat too. “It seems like it’d be hard to talk to anyone if they’re always acting like a stranger to you!”

Traveler flinches when you go to help them up. Oh! You should be more careful. You can hang out without getting too touchy. 

“… It is hard. You're right.” He takes a big breath in, and lets a big breath out. “Yeah. Let’s hang out.”

For the first time that you can ever remember, the Change festival is kind of fun.

You feel like a kid again, running around with Traveler and getting into trouble. It turns out he loves pranks. And they can’t get into trouble if nobody catches them actively doing anything! You’re almost an adult, and it should feel juvenile, but it’s fun to aimlessly play around with some weird new friend. Traveler is surprisingly more entertaining and whimsical than you thought they would be!

They offer to change your hair, and even though they have a different hair texture than you, they’re surprisingly good with yours. He puts flowers in your braids! His hair is absolutely in shambles, so you take a comb to it. You are not as gentle as he is. Traveler yelps a few times. 

Your friends from school are definitely making fun of you behind your back for your weird adult boyfriend or whatever. But one, Traveler isn’t that much older than you, two, this is totally innocent anyway, and three, they’re all going to forget you did this tomorrow! For one time only, you are fully immune to gossip. It's a good day. You wonder if you ever had days like this with Traveler before. If they'll seek you out again so you can do it in the future.

“Hold on, I really need to use the bathroom,” you say as night falls in Dormont, letting go of Traveler. He looks like he’s about to cry. “Oh, don’t look at me like that! I won’t forget for the couple minutes it’ll take.”

“… Okay. I’ll be right here.” Traveler sits down right outside the door. It doesn’t look like they believe you, but you can’t hold it forever.

You run into the bathroom. You’ve got to do this quick, or else you’ll forget Traveler! You think about them the whole time you’re in the bathroom. Opening the stall door, Traveler. Bunching your skirt up so you can sit on the toilet, Traveler. Unrolling toilet paper, Traveler.

… But it’s weird that you keep saying that, right? The toilet paper’s not going anywhere. 

No! Ohhhhh it really is some kind of curse! You've been in here for two minutes and you can't even remember. You can't. They're. He's. It's someone, isn't it?

No, no no no no, you can feel it, it's the edge of a memory. You try to grasp it, but it's made of sand. You can only pinch one grain, two grains, and then the rest is off into the void.

You breathe in, and your breath stutters, as if a thin coat of honey sits on the back of your tongue, blocking the air. Your head is pounding. You can hear your heart in your ears. You're forgetting something important.

... Right? Are you? What could you be forgetting in the bathroom? The little money purse your mother sent you off with, that’s in your pocket. Your hair… huh, when did you get it braided? Ugh, are you out of it today? You usually are during these festivals, but you thought you grew out of being weird at them! You've definitely never forgotten getting your hair done. Maybe you should just go home.

After you wash your hands and step outside, there’s a Housemaiden sitting on the ground. Ah, crab, were you in there for too long? Were they waiting this whole time?

“Sorry! You’ve probably been waiting for your turn for a while,” you say, holding the door for him. “I didn’t mean to take that much time!”

He watches you intensely. You tilt your head to the side. Why do they look mad? 

“Is something wrong, Housemaiden?” You frown. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“… It’s fine.” The Housemaiden steps through the door and lets it slam behind them.

Ouch. Well, they’re probably overstimulated at the festival! You also feel bad and weird at these things. It’s a little strange that a Housemaiden isn’t having a good time here, but it’s not like you can ask them! He’s a stranger. They've probably got other friends they can talk to, someone will know to help them.

Whatever. You'll cut your losses and go home.

You wonder if these festivals will ever be easy for you.

When you’re eighteen, you sit off to the sidelines during the Change announcements as usual. Nobody acknowledges you. Everyone in Dormont knows you never have anything to announce, never anything to say. You’re just Mirabelle. And that’s probably what you’re always going to be. You're stuck in the same pathways, the same ruts, the same footsteps in the dirt you'll tread your whole life. Stuck in the life that was made for you, instead of carving one out on your own. There's something missing, a feeling that's just around the corner. You're not living up to your own potential.

Unless you Change.

…

Is this why people Change?

You get up from your spot and leave the festival. The giant Change God statue looms over you in the middle of the village. They always have a different face on when you look. Apparently it's a mask. That seems... fitting. Change is kind of a mask, isn't it? Maybe it's all a lie, maybe everyone's just pretending to Change to fit in. Maybe it's not natural. It's a skill you have to learn, like weaving.

But you don't know. It's not as if your parents care about Change, and everyone in Dormont thinks you're too stagnant to want to hear the explanation.

So now you're stuck. You want to Change, the spark is there, but you can't figure out how to do it on your own. You don't have the practice. You haven't been doing it for as long as your peers. You're behind. Uninformed. Scared to take the first step without assistance, too self-conscious to ask for help. If Changing is easy like everyone says it is, you shouldn't need the help. But you obviously do. You wouldn't feel like this, be like this, if you knew what you were doing.

... They teach people about Change at the Houses, right? Without judgment? You have the sense that some people live at the House without being totally dedicated to Change. One person, surely...! And nobody has to know you're having doubts! Right? You can just... pretend, until you start feeling it. If you don't feel it, you can quit and nobody will think that's weird, since that's a Change too. There's no way to lose!

Maybe this is what you're looking for.

Chapter Text

Going to the House wasn’t your choice.

Well, it was. Technically. You had to be the one to speak up, to declare you wanted to be a Housemaiden, to pack your bags and kiss your parents goodbye. The one to march up to the Head Housemaiden of Dormont, the oldest and sternest woman you've ever met, and ask to be taken into the House. Change doesn’t take any believers held by force. You have to choose to be here. To Change. But deep down, it wasn’t a choice for you. It was just the only thing you could do.

Otherwise, you would spend your life tossing and turning in bed, wondering if you had any purpose in life other than what your mother decided for you. Your whole life weaving the same decorative tapestries as her. Your whole life bonded to someone your mother already “gently” pushed you to date. Your whole life being mocked at festivals for being the same old Mirabelle. Your whole life being one, singular thing in a very long line of one, singular type of person. Always the same person, but never truly yourself. Just a mold created by her parents and the village around her.

There wasn’t a choice. You needed a change. A capital-C Change!

And you wouldn’t be able to do that sitting in the same seat your mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, great-great-grandmother, and everyone else before that did. And she wanted at least one of your kids to do the same thing, because weren’t you planning on having a lot of kids, Mirabelle, you would be such a good mother! 

So shortly after you turned nineteen, you packed a teeny tiny suitcase and moved into Dormont’s House. 

Your parents were happy for you, not in the “we’re so proud of your decision” way, but in the “we would look like huge crabs if we said you couldn’t do this” way. It didn’t matter what they thought. Yes, you risked your familytale getting dropped in a library one day, but you promised your mother that you’d find somebody else to share it with! Housemaidens are expected to get bonded. It’ll happen! Maybe your children would still decide to be weavers, and your chapter in the Chevalier Familytale will be a wild sidequest away from everything else. The one person in the family with a rebellious streak. That would be kind of cool...!

The ceremony welcoming you was the last time you saw your parents. The Head Housemaiden dressed you in robes and placed two little circular brooches on your shoulders. She watches you, stern and expectant. You poke at them. This is a symbol of Change, right? Like eggs and masks? That's a lot of symbols. There's probably more, too, that you don't know. Secret ones. You'll... probably have to study them all. Will you get found out as a fraud the second you go into a class? Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Everyone else in the line looks like they know what they're doing.

Because you're not the only person taking up the title today! The House of Dormont only has one Joining Ceremony a year, and you specifically joined right on the same date so that your parents couldn't talk you out of this. Naturally, you're the most inexperienced. You were offered to study for a year before committing, but nope! It's now or never. If you don’t jump headfirst into it, you'll rationalize yourself out of it entirely.

The Head Housemaiden puts you at the back of the line, since you were not present for when they rehearsed the steps a few days prior. You have to walk on the big platform and speak out to the crowd, just like the Change festivals, but... it's different this time. You'll be okay. As long as you follow your seniors, there shouldn't be any problems. They make idle small talk with you as you wait for the Head Housemaiden to give you the all-clear to begin. You're shaking, and you can't stop. Only one other acolyte notices. They sit in front of you, measuring your breaths. It's so kind of them, you should make sure to thank them after the ceremony...!

When it's time, you follow the other three Housemaidens outside the House and near the big platform. It's the same one they pull out for the festivals every year. You're the last in line, following the floaty looking one with darkless hair. You take the long way from the House to the platform as the beginning of the ceremony unfolds further away. The Head Housemaiden makes quiet conversation with the four of you as you walk.

“Are any of you having any second thoughts?” she asks, and you can’t help but assume the question is mostly for you.

“I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be,” the acolyte first in line says, fond.

The second one hums. “It’s mostly a formality for me and Fontaine anyway.”

The acolyte in front of you groans.

“Like I said.” The Head Housemaiden sounds… tense. “Any second thoughts?”

“Eighth, ninth, and tenth thoughts,” the acolyte in front of you hisses out. Maybe that question wasn’t for you after all…?

You reach forward to pat them on the back, as a reassurance, and they yelp out in surprise. Oops! Wrong move! 

“S-sorry!” You keep your hands to yourself. “A-and… I know I’m new, but…”

“But…?” The Head Housemaiden swivels her head around like a hungry owl to watch you. Scary…! 

But… you can’t be like this for the rest of your life. You can be Mirabelle, you think, you want to be her. She’s gone too far off course, though. You need to figure out the direction she’s going in, because now… now, you don’t know where she’s being led. And the only way you can change that trajectory is - 

“I needed a Change.”

“Then there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Her gaze turns softer towards you and she leads your line to the platform. She’s the first to stand on it. She addresses the crowd before the ceremony proper, launching into a speech that you probably should be paying attention to, but your attention gets pulled away by the floaty-looking acolyte.

He smiles at you, all teeth, like they're ready to eat you, and says, “you know, you don’t have to do this.”

“What?”

“I’m giving you an out.” They’re still smiling, pretending to be very kind to you, but you know you’re being condescended to. “We can go run into the woods instead, if you want?”

What is this acolyte’s problem? Is this a joke? You’ve been made fun of behind your back a lot. This is the first time someone’s been so bold as to say it in front of your face. Your breath catches in your chest. This is all your worst fears, coming to life right in front of you! They know you’re faking it! What if they kick you out of the House? What if you get on the platform and they start smacking you in the face until you leave?? Has this been an elaborate set-up to prank you???

“I - "

“Traveler, stop hazing the new girl.” The acolyte next to the rebellious one smacks their shoulder. It wasn’t very hard, but they flinch and yelp out again. “Sorry, but - come on, you’re being rude. You know that.”

They mumble something under their breath, in a language you don’t understand. It sounds like an expletive. You decide to put your attention back onto the platform. The Head Housemaiden explains that all of you will walk onto the platform, declare your intention, and then your name. Afterwards, you'll officially be a Housemaiden of Dormont.

But - you... didn't prepare an intention...! 

Don't panic! You have three to listen to before yours! You can think of something last minute!! Come on, Mirabelle!!!

The first acolyte, the younger woman at the front of the line with long, flowing lightless hair, walks onto the platform and speaks with an elegant voice. 

"This House has given so much to me, as long as I can remember," she says, so emotional you think she'll cry, "and I couldn't stand leaving it. I want to put the same care into the House that it's put into me. I would be honored to be welcomed as Housemaiden Fontaine."

Everyone claps. A few Housemaidens whistle out. She's already well known here. She's been here since she was a kid? This is already a home to her, then. And you’re here… starting from scratch. You can’t help but feel like being here, in this ceremony, with her - you’re intruding on an intimate experience. Aren’t you? You just stumbled in here, no history, no interest. You’re faking it. She has a genuine belief, and you’re mocking it.

Housemaiden Fontaine removes her brooches from her shoulders and clips them onto her hip.

Oh, that must be part of it, too.

The acolyte that smacked the rebellious one, who wears large circular glasses, steps up next. They hop up onto the platform with their robes and brooches already altered! When did they do that?

"Our knowledge of the world is always changing, just as we do," they say, very wise and learned, "and I hope to Change the way we think, one discovery at a time. Call me Housemaiden Edwain."

Once again, a round of applause. A scruffy Housemaiden in a thick jacket woops from the audience. They already have friends, too? And, crab!! Crab, crab, crab, you don't have anything of value to give to the House, do you? Special knowledge? Skills? Were you supposed to have a job in mind already? You can’t just expect to walk in here and have them all cater to you, that’s so disrespectful! You’re being awful, awful awful awful!!

You want to go hide in a hole.

You hold your breath as the third Housemaiden, the rude one with the darkless hair, steps onto the platform. What's he going to say? You know you won't be able to follow them without looking incompetent. You’re gripping your robes, stuttering through breaths.

They’re silent. They stare out at the crowd. Nobody recognizes them. Nobody cheers for them, nobody waves or whistles or encourages him. Is this a blank slate for them, too? They haven't altered their robes, their brooches, or anything else about their appearance. You wonder if this is stage fright, but they don't look afraid. They're not nervous, unwell, or anything else you'd expect from someone with a fear of public speaking.

He's... annoyed?

Finally, they clip the brooches off their robe. They slip them into their pockets.

"I don't believe in Change at all."

You wait for them to finish. Maybe they're making some kind of point? A thesis? You definitely want to hear how they twist this into something good - because!! That’s you, isn’t it? You don’t believe in Change yet, you’re here to be convinced. Surely, this Housemaiden has something to say that will help you. But they don’t. They stay silent. You hear the other Housemaidens and spectators chattering amongst themselves. This... isn't how it's supposed to go. Obviously. But you can’t take your eyes off of him. This intention is… bad, it’s awful, but. You’re compelled to listen to all of his beats of silence as if they’re a meaningful speech. 

The Head Housemaiden grimaces at them. It spurs him to finish, reluctant.

"I'm just here because there's nothing better to do," he continues, and you grimace, because it's all too familiar of a thought, "and none of you know how to help, so this stupid blinding ceremony doesn't even matter."

"Traveler!" The Head Housemaiden tries to pull him off the stage, but he's faster. They run right off the platform and into the woods, out of sight. There's an uproar, and it feels like it'll last forever, but... then everyone just seems to forget about it? The crowd's chattering lowers into a buzz, and then into silence. All of the air around you smells sweet, overwhelmingly so, like you’re in a candle shop where all the scents stick in your lungs, powerful enough to knock you over.

Well. Now your head hurts.

Is it your turn? You’re almost too dizzy to stand. You think it might be best to bail out, to run off into the woods (where did you get that idea?) and not turn back. Change isn't for you, and neither is Dormont! You should just be a hermit in the forest. Find a house to haunt. Be a weird urban legend. But if you bail now, it's going to be worse! The Head Housemaiden is watching you, glaring, judging.

You don't know what to do.

You're supposed to get on the platform, but! But, but. Your head hurts and there's a weird lingering sweet taste in your mouth and you're not breathing right. Your heart’s pounding and your skin’s crawling and you just want to be in bed.

You... go up anyway. Against your better judgment. Your eyes glaze over as you look out at the crowd. A knot forms in your chest. What would everyone think if you passed out here?

"I..." You freeze.

You look out, at everyone you’ve ever known. You’ve never realized how small Dormont was until the whole village is staring at you. They’re waiting for you. Expectant. You can hear murmuring in the audience. Everyone you grew up with. Your parents. Your friends. They probably have no idea why you're here. Why you decided to do this. It's really out of left field for you, isn't it? You... still don't have a good intention, but. Maybe they're owed an explanation.

You draw in a breath. Your lungs stutter. There's a vague memory of someone timing your breathing earlier, but you've forgotten how already.

"I had my whole life planned out. And it was a beautiful life, and I loved the idea of it, and I love the people who made it," you say, locking eyes with your mother in the audience.

"But that life isn't me. I've tried to force it for years. And it's hard to change when..." You look out at everyone you've ever known. "...When, it's expected that I never will."

The Housemaidens perk up, impressed. 

"So... I'm here because I'm looking for who Mirabelle is." Your voice wiggles. Don't cry in public, don't cry in public. "And she's got to be in here somewhere, right?"

Housemaiden Fontaine rushes up to whisper in your ear. "Housemaiden Mirabelle."

You nod. "Yes! Um... Housemaiden Mirabelle! That's me!"

Housemaiden Edwain points at their shoulders. Oh, your brooches! You clip the brooches to the front of your cloak, flustered. That’s a fine enough place to start. If you don’t like the placement, you can swap them out later! That’s what Change is about, isn’t it?

The crowd breaks out in an uproar, applauding louder than any of the other speeches.

Oh.

Really?

That was good?

All your friends that left you for not Changing clap the hardest. They're happy for you. Proud of you for trying something new. Even your parents are smiling. Still not in a way that makes you think they fully approve of this, but... in closure? You wish they had this kind of energy for Mirabelle before, but. If they're happier about Housemaiden Mirabelle, then you can't complain much.

Can you?

Housemaiden Fontaine and Housemaiden Edwain hold your hands and step you off the platform. A few encouragements are whispered in your ear. Your foot slips as you get back into the grass. Oh, you're shaking! You try to take in solid breaths, but you can't. Someone's trying to say something to you, but your ears are ringing. The knot is still in your chest but you can feel your own heart hammering against it. Another Housemaiden comes by and offers you some water, which you drink down in one giant gulp.

"Sorry about the panic attack, Housemaiden Mirabelle," they say, smiling softly at you. "Are you back with us?"

"The... what?"

"Did you not - " The Housemaiden's eyes widen. They reach down to squeeze your hands. "When you get into the House, let's get you to a doctor. Okay?"

You nod, confused. Hopefully they'll explain later.

After the crowd calms down, the Head Housemaiden squints at you and the other two new Housemaidens. "Didn't we have a fourth candidate?"

"I'm here." A Housemaiden in the same robes as you but without any brooches walks into the field and steps onto the platform. "Sorry for being late."

"Alright, alright." She grimaces, not bothering to hide her annoyance. "Go on."

They look out into the crowd and shrug. "I'm Housemaiden Traveler, I guess."

Is there... more?

"...I just want to belong somewhere again," he says, in a voice too tired for someone as young as him.

The crowd gives a very low, scattered applause. It's nothing but pity.

Well! You're glad that's not you. If you felt bad, you wonder how they are in comparison. There’s a powerful, mysterious urge to run up to them and ask if they need anything. But you won’t act on that, at least not right now! That’s creepy! You can’t just walk up to them and interrogate them about their mood. Still, they seem. Melancholy? Isn’t this supposed to be a happy ceremony? The start of something new? They’re acting like this is the end of their life, not the beginning of it. 

You’ll have to remember to check in on them later.

The ceremony ends with all of the more experienced Housemaidens formally introducing themselves to the four of you. These are all the people you’re going to be living with for the foreseeable future! It’s a lot of names, a lot of faces. Are you supposed to remember all of them? You feel dizzy shaking all of these hands and nodding your head along to these introductions.

You meet Housemaiden Claude, who… is very, very abrasive! You can’t see yourself getting along with her at all! But the House is so big, so vast. Maybe you won’t see much that much of her! 

Housemaiden Toille is another younger Housemaiden around your age. He’s a bit more scruffed up, but more friendly than Housemaiden Claude. He offers to hang out with you a little bit after you get settled, and you hope it’s not rude if you take him up on that offer!

Then, there’s Housemaiden Beatrice. They’re older than you, but their Joining was last year! They’re still fairly new, too. They promise to help you settle in, to help move your tiny suitcase of belongings into your dorm. They know what it’s like to start from scratch, and want to help however possible. They’re so sweet!

Lots of Housemaidens, you end up remembering by their titles. The librarian, the doctor, the cook, the trap expert. Wait, why do you have a trap expert??? Does the House get attacked often????

Near the end, one last Housemaiden approaches you. Her hair is darkless, just like… well! You’ve never seen darkless hair before, actually! She’s gangly in the way someone halfway through Body Craft is, but you can’t imagine her getting any taller than she already is! She’s got two heads on you! And she looks very experienced, too. She probably came here when she was even younger than you are. Augh, you have so much catching up to do!!

“You were Housemaiden Mirabelle?” she asks, swooping your hands into hers. Her face scrunches up when she speaks. “I hope it’s not too unfair to the other new ones, but I think you’re the cutest one in the bunch!”

Just like her body, this Housemaiden's voice is in between two octaves, still being adjusted through Craft. But there's something else about it that's familiar. There's a faint accent, an atypical way of speaking. It's like she pronounces words through the shape of them, instead of their letters. Each word wavers in on itself, like a twinkle. It's not an accent that takes over her whole voice like - like someone else you know - but there's the influence of it.

She reminds you of.

Of.

Of -- !

"Housemaiden Mirabelle?" The Housemaiden with darkless hair keeps a tight hold on both of your hands, keeping you steady. You're on the ground. When did you get on the ground? "Are you alright?"

"I, I'm okay!" Whatever you were worried about, it's out of your head now. Hopefully your weird episodes back from when you were a kid aren't coming back. “I think I’m the most inexperienced out of everyone here…”

“Is there something wrong with that?” She tilts her head to the side. “Some people need to study a bit here to decide if they’re ready to commit, but you jumped right in! That’s admirable in a very new way!”

A new way? Oh no. Oh crab you’re the first one who’s done it like this?

“Am I the only one here who hasn’t studied Change here?” you ask, chewing a scab off your own lip.

“Well, yes?” The Housemaiden watches the other three off in their own conversations. “Fontaine, she came here when she was very young… Edwain’s studied with us for a few years, and Traveler’s been working as an…” The Housemaiden hums. “Well, I forgot why he works here, actually! But he does, supposedly!”

“Huh?” That was… three names? Weren’t there only two other people in the ceremony with you?

The Housemaiden points to the one who - ohhh that's the one who had a sad introduction! “Traveler, no names? You’ll have to ask them, it’s not my place to say, but they’ve been here for a long time. Six years, now?”

“And they’re only officially joining today?” Usually you can’t work in a House if you’re not a Housemaiden, at least not on a long-term basis.

“Oh, they didn’t want to for a very long time!” She smiles too sweetly, like there’s a larger story to that she’s unwilling to tell. “Anyway, where were my manners? I’m Housemaiden Euphrasie.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say, getting your mind out of the gossip. “Um, if I’m the only one here who hasn’t been living here before…”

“Yes, that’s already been arranged!” Housemaiden Euphrasie nods ferociously. “You’re actually in the same room as one of my very good friends, Housemaiden Claude.”

OH NO. No, no, that’s fine!! You’ll adjust!!! Hopefully. Maybe. Auuugh, wasn’t Housemaiden Claude a chemist, or something?? Something sciency. Is your room going to be full of experiments? And… the way she says ‘friends’ makes you think you’re in for some more gossip soon. You check her earrings. Not bonding earrings. This is going to be so much gossip. You’re looking forward to it and dreading it, in equal measure.

Eventually, you get around to formally introducing yourself to Housemaiden Fontaine and Housemaiden Edwain. They’re both friendly, but now that you're not in the middle of one of your episodes, they're a bit more distant. They must be just as nervous as you are! You thank them for their help anyway. You wonder if you'll ever have anything else in common other than your Joining date.

And then the third one comes to talk to you. He was… right! You remember their name now.

“Housemaiden Traveler,” you say, nodding towards them. You’re having trouble drumming up the enthusiasm to speak to them. Your head hurts when you look at them too long. “Um, congratulations?”

“Mirabelle.” He shakes his head. “Sorry. Housemaiden Mirabelle.”

“That’s me.” You try not to be annoyed with how overly familiar they are. You just got to be a Housemaiden!! The title is important! 

“Are you… really into Change now?” they ask, incredulous, as if they’re from Dormont and know about your reputation there. But with that accent, there’s no way they would have grown up here.

“Um.” Crab, this is the first person that’s questioned your faith so directly! You need to. Figure out what to say at times like these. “Being here… is a Change for me, I’ll admit. I’m new to all of this. But that’s what Change is, isn’t it?”

“It is, I guess?” Housemaiden Traveler watches you, eyes wide. Unlike everyone else in Dormont, they seem... conflicted about the idea of you Changing. “Congratulations anyway? I think?”

Oh no. Housemaiden Traveler has already figured you out.

 
It’s fine. It’s fine!! If Housemaiden Euphrasie was right, they’re also kind of in trouble too and nobody will listen to them if they snitch on you. You’re okay! Nobody has to know that you’re figuring this out on the fly. And - hey, you’re here to learn! You said that on the platform and nobody made fun of you or questioned you. You’re okay. You’re fine. You’re doing it right.

Seeing the other new Housemaidens, you’re also apparently supposed to do a little bit of studying before you fully commit, but…

Whatever! You’re here! You’ll learn to love it.

You will, won't you?

Chapter Text

Everyone in the House is so nice!

It’s a relief to have a fresh, clean slate somewhere. You were always off in the corner during Change festivals, which got you that bad reputation in Dormont. But coming to the House scrubbed that away instantly. Housemaidens that saw you in the festivals applaud you for Changing by coming to the House, and Housemaidens that haven’t met you before are willing to help you learn anything you ask about. It’s amazing what a change in perspective can do! 

You keep cutting your fingers while making dinner, so Housemaiden Beatrice teaches you a cute rhyme to keep the knife away.

You don’t know what kind of role at the House you want to fill, so you’re given a chance to try a little bit of everything.

You’re told that the tightness in your chest when you’re worried isn’t your fault, and you’re given advice and medicine to help manage it.

You’re cooed at for having a special dual craft type in lessons, you’re fawned over for being young and adorable, and your mistakes are chalked up to inexperience instead of incompetence. 

Sure, you haven’t changed much yet, but having your environment shift this much will definitely push you to Change in a good way. Someday. That’s what everyone’s saying, at least! There’s not any pressure, you have time to figure things out on your own.

Sometimes the shift in environment isn't a good thing, though. It takes you a while to notice at first, but there's a strange, oppressive air to the House most days.

It's little things. Like the hushed, secretive lecture in the middle of one of your Piercing Craft lectures reminding the class of their weakness to Rock Craft. The encouragements not to walk the halls alone. The assurances from everyone that nobody needs to suffer, that someone will always be ready to help. The warnings from the Head Housemaiden of a stranger in the House, and the swift retraction of those warnings by your senior Housemaidens. The insistence of group activities from those same Housemaidens, and their obsession with writing down rosters and names of every attendee. The way some Housemaidens will aimlessly wander the halls, like they're looking for something. The frantic, manic study sessions Housemaiden Euphrasie and Claude get up to. The overcrowded infirmary, the mysterious sickness running through every Housemaiden.

... That last one lands you in the infirmary more often than not. You never had migraines before you started living here, and now they're plaguing you at least once a week.

But when you're not laid up in bed, your favorite part of the House is being able to take whatever class you want.

If you can name a subject, someone’s teaching it at the House! Of course, your primary classes are about Change. Those are interesting! You don’t know why you were so afraid of it when you were younger. The Change God is so nice! Accepting of everyone and everything. It doesn’t matter that you’re new, or that you spent most of your life unchanging. What matters more is the present. How you handle yourself now. Dedicating yourself to the future. It's a belief you can throw yourself behind easily. The more classes you take, the more you find yourself praying in your quiet moments. Nothing long, nothing involved. You're just dipping your toes in the water.

Knowing about Change makes lots of things more clear in hindsight, too. 

The brooches you wear are circles inside of circles, representing that everything is a part of something bigger! Change isn’t made in a vacuum. Some Changes are dependent on other things Changing, some are nested within each other, and some are triggered by each other. Someone cheeky in class keeps egging the teacher on and on about what contains what. The House holds Housemaidens. Dormont holds the House. Vaugarde holds Dormont. But nobody can produce the answer for what's bigger than Vaugarde. He asks it enough times that you start to wonder, too, in your off hours. What does Vaugarde lay inside? You ask the question to the Head Housemaiden, once, and quickly learn not to ask it again, for how harshly you're lectured.

Eggs were always served at the festivals because they represent Change! For something to Change, something has to break. Like an egg! Birds wouldn’t exist if they didn’t break their own eggshells. It makes you a little queasy, still. You don’t want to break Mirabelle. You like being her more than you ever have before now that you’re out of Dormont! But you can appreciate the metaphor nonetheless.

People wear masks at the festivals because the Change God always has a mask. You’re asked to craft little statues of them, and paint a different face on the mask each time. You have a few goofy little ones, but you really put your effort in when it’s time to make one of the full sized statues! … But, uh, you’re not that good at drawing. So it still looks kind of dumb. Your belief in them is childish, skin deep. Each face is supposed to be a different perception of the Change God, and maybe your perception of them is always going to be a little warped and incorrect.

Good thing you’re not whoever keeps making the statues with the incomplete faces…! You think it’s the same artist every time, with the same phoned-in brushstrokes and missing features. One's just a square with the edges pinched towards the middle. How lazy!! That’s just asking for trouble, isn’t it?

Anyway! Their expression is supposed to be different in each mask, too, to symbolize how emotions are fleeting. Even if you don’t Change much, you take solace in the fact that your heart and mind are constantly going through mini-changes as you shift from being happy to sad to bored to angry, all round and around. 

And crabs! That was always such a heinous swear when you were growing up, but you never understood why. It’s because they’re creepy and unchanging! Too many legs, too many species turning into them over millions of years. They’re inevitable. They don’t Change. Once you’re a crab, you’re a crab forever. 

You hope you won’t end up being a crab.

You do feel like something isn’t clicking about Change, not yet. But you’re close! You’re getting there! It doesn’t feel like you’re making a huge, big, crazy mistake anymore. Being in the House was the right choice, the right step in the right direction. It takes the pressure off. You can take some extra time to figure out exactly how your faith works. There's no time limit.

And then… you also take a lot of Craft classes. Because you have a dual type. You’re paper and scissors! 

Your Creative Craft classes are your favorite, even though it’s your secondary craft. It’s like writing with your non-dominant hand - you can still do it, but it takes a lot more practice! Most of it is learning how to manipulate clay with Craft. It’s all about making and building and creating. All three of the Crafts are important, but you’re drawn to Creative Craft because it’s fun! It scratches an annoying little itch in your brain. Protecting Craft is sturdy and grounding, and Piercing Craft can be thought of as a kind of custodial destruction, but… you like being the point of origin for something new. 

Your Piercing Craft classes are fun too… you think? But you can hardly remember anything from them half the time. When it’s a lecture, you’re fine! You can take notes and keep everything in your brain. But lots of practical Piercing Craft exercises are combat exercises. And those sessions just static out of your mind as soon as you walk out of them. You try to pay attention!! But you can’t. You can’t even remember who your sparring partner always is, even though it seems like they’re the same person every time?

At least the combat classes are more sparse. Only once or twice a month, at maximum. Even if you zone out during them, you smoke everyone out in one of the House's routine fencing competitions. So even if you don’t remember the actual class… at least you still have cool skills? 

There’s Healing Craft classes on top of that, too. It's actually a subset of Body Craft, so you need to learn a fair bit about that too even if you don't use it on yourself. You’re not a doctor, so you just learn the basics. First aid, a few little Crafts to disinfect wounds. It’s not like you’re ever going to use this in real life past a few papercuts! Lots of classes like field surgery are open to you, but you don’t take those because, what? When would you use that? You don’t leave the House, and if someone got severely injured around you, you’d just take them to a surgeon! Nobody’s losing a limb or an eye because you didn’t take an extra class, right?

But… aside from Change and combat… you really do like to learn everything you can get your hands on. 

Your favorite class right now is a cosmetology class! Doing other people’s hair and makeup is strangely calming. So far, you’ve only worked on wigs and busts, but you sit in the little salon that’s next to one of the Body Craft rooms to offer your services. The idea of striking up conversation with someone while you’re helping them Change is nice! 

… If you’d ever get someone to ask you to do their hair, that is.

It’d be helpful to have someone live to practice on now that you’ve got the basics down. But the Change festival was two weeks ago, and nobody is ever in the mood for teeny tiny cosmetic changes after getting it all out at the festival. And it’s not like this is your job! You only have so many hours in a day to volunteer. You can’t wait here all day. The instructor is out on their lunch break when you’re sitting and studying, so it ends up being a boring shift. You wish Claude would come in here, actually - she's got this one little shock of bright hair at the back of her head that you want to try and shade match to the rest of her. It's been bugging you for weeks.

Only one person steps inside to volunteer the hour you’re waiting, and it’s -

…

Oh, Change, you always stick on the name at first.

“Housemaiden Traveler,” you say, trying not to be too negative speaking to them. You don’t even know why you dislike them - it’s not like you’ve talked before. But you get a weird headache whenever they approach.

“Housemaiden Mirabelle,” they answer, just as surprised to see you as you are to see them. “You’re a hairdresser?”

“I’m trying it out.”

“Oh.” They grimace and look around the room. “You don’t have anyone more experienced around, do you?”

“Not for another hour or two!” You… try not to be too offended that they want somebody else to work on their hair. It’s a personal decision to cut it up and change it, of course most people want someone… experienced.

You expect them to turn around and come back later, and then -

They just.

Sit in the chair??? 

Without a word????

“Um?”

“Is this the wrong seat?” They look self conscious all of a sudden. 

“No! No, no, you’re okay!” You'll take any practice you can get! Time to strap him in before they can run off. You reach down to adjust the height of the chair so you can work on their hair. “What can I help you with?”

He looks straight ahead, in the mirror across from the chair, contemplating.

 
“What’s the most drastic change I can do?”

You look at their hair. It’s a pretty unique shade! You’ve only ever seen Housemaiden Euphrasie with darkless hair like this, even if it’s a completely different hair texture. Housemaiden Traveler’s hair is always messy, always tangled. It would be nice to be able to clean it up a little. 

But… they’re asking for the most drastic change. If you were the one making the decision for you, you’d shave your own head. Your hair does well when it gets fresh restarts every once in a while anyway, and it’s cute when it’s all short and cropped! You’re not sure if that would be something Housemaiden Traveler would want, though. You don’t think you could pull off giving them a perm very well, or a mullet, or anything complicated like an undercut with cool patterns and dye spots. 

Their hair right now is just past their shoulders, full of split ends. They have… it looks like it’s 2A or 2B, but the strands are really thin and fine. You’ve read about this before, this can get weighed down by itself very easily! You’ve seen it on other Housemaidens, it poofs up a lot more with a shorter cut, and some layers, and it’s the one type of wave and curl that does better with more frequent washes. 

It would probably be a real huge, drastic change if you gave it a little more shape!

“Um, have you ever tried layering?” You gently press your hand into their hair, assessing.

They flinch. (ah, you should be careful!) “What’s that?”

“It’s when you cut your hair at different lengths!” Your hair is in box braids right now, but you wave your hands around your head to demonstrate anyway. “Mine, it’s really thick, so it lays on itself pretty evenly on its own. But if you have fine hair, you need to give it structure.”

“Okay. I can do that.” They squint at themself in the mirror. “Do you know how to change the shade of it?”

“Dyeing? Yes!” You turn their chair so they can look at the shade chart on the other wall. “All of those over there! Your hair is so light, you could pick any of them and they’d all work! We don’t even have to bleach it.”

Housemaiden Traveler jumps out of the chair for a minute to inspect the shades. You give them time. It’s an important decision. If you didn’t have such an aversion to bleaching your own hair, you’d probably make yours a nice mid-light tone, like bright lavender or tomato light. Eventually, Housemaiden Traveler coughs to get your attention and points to the darkest shade on the list.

“Let’s go with lightless.”

“That is drastic!” You clap. “I think it’ll be nice. Come sit at the washing station, here - "

You sit them down in the chair that’s more horizontal. You have to work with them to get their neck on the foam rest. It’s obvious they’re uncomfortable, but you do the best you can while touching them as little as possible. 

“Sorry, I have this problem too.” You slip a towel around his neck so that you don’t get their robes wet. “The perils of being short…”

“I - is this part of it?” They seem nervous as you pour water into the bin. “Getting washed?”

“Have you ever gotten your hair cut?”

“Uh…” They grimace. “I usually do it myself?”

That would explain the haphazard, uneven pattern his hair is growing in. It looks like they put it up in a ponytail and lopped off a random amount last time. “I need to clean it before I start working, yes. Um. Also, I might have to cut it a little short to get it all even?”

“That’s fine.”

You nod, and start washing their hair. You end up needing a pretty heavy detangler, with all of the knots he has. He stays deathly quiet as you have your hands in their hair. You’ll make this as painless as possible. If they don’t like being touched, you wonder if this is torture. That might be why they cut their hair on their own…! 

Now that you think about it, Housemaiden Traveler is an odd one. Like you, he doesn’t go around changing his appearance on a whim. They don’t ever change their name, they don’t put brooches on their robes, and they’ve never even stepped foot in the Body Craft rooms. This must really be serious, for him to walk into the salon asking for the most drastic haircut they can stomach.

“What’s the occasion?” you ask as you get him away from the washing station and back to the chair. You’ve already decided you’re cutting his hair before coloring it, with how damaged it is.

“I’m studying something.” He has a weird glint in his eye. Is that rage? Determination? You can never get a good read on Housemaiden Traveler.

You wrap the salon cape around their neck. “And that something is…?”

They don’t answer, just fidgeting in the chair.

You don’t get out the scissors yet. The teacher said part of the job is making sure the client is happy and relaxed before you start making major changes. Distracting them until they’re ready is important!

(That’s what they said if you were doing a child’s hair, but you think it applies here too!)

“Oh, is it like.” You lean over the chair conspiratorially. “Housemaiden Traveler. Are you doing some secret research?”

He laughs as if it catches him off guard. “Yeah. It’s definitely secret research.”

“Can I guess?”

“Knock yourself out.” 

“Hair-ology?” You smile at him through the mirror. “Dye-ology?”

Another laugh escapes them. “If you’re taking this class, shouldn’t you know the real names for those?”

“… Yes.” You stick your tongue out cutely. “But nobody said I was good at this!”

“Aren’t you about to take scissors to my hair?”

You hold up the scissors and snip them in the air a few times. He laughs again, and looks calm enough for you to start. 

Both of you fall into quiet after enough time. It’s nice to be zoned in and focused on cutting their hair. This is one of those moments where it feels like your dual-craft lends you a good amount of synergy. Cutting hair is a creative skill, definitely, but it’s subtractive. At least if you’re not adding in extensions or weaves or wigs. You get everything even all around their skull, and then start taking sections up to layer. You pray that it’ll dry nicely. You think he's praying too, with all that mumbling they're doing. (That's not Vaugardian, is it?)

After you’re happy with the cut, you start dyeing. This part takes longer, and Housemaiden Traveler is happy to stay in extended silence. You hoped to have this be a fun conversation, but they look… lost in thought. Changing your appearance is a prayer for lots of people, and you don’t want to interrupt his. This seems like an important ritual for him. They need a lot of resolve to complete this.

Once you’re done dyeing, you dry their hair and marvel at how perfectly it’s poofed up. It’s practically a sphere! You know it’ll settle and droop down the more their hair grows out and the more they wear it, but it’s so cute like this. You think they might actually have 2C, now that it’s all dried and dyed and fluffy.

“It turned out better than I thought!” You give their hair one last little shake while you still have touching privileges. “Let me know tomorrow if it washes well, won’t you?”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea.” They give their own hair a little shake, satisfied with the bounce of it. “Why don’t we meet up in the trap room tomorrow and I’ll tell you there?”

“The trap room?” You blink, confused. Does the House even have a trap room? “Why would…”

“It’s part of my research.” They lean in, assertive. Desperate, almost. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

“Sure?” You have no idea what his research could even be, now. 

Satisfied with your promise, they nod and tear the cloak off of them. Quickly, they make their way towards the door. They must have somewhere to be, if they’re in that much of a hurry. It’s not like you take payment for this, it’s a free service at the House, and you’re a volunteer, but you’d hoped for a little more small talk… 

And it feels like you’re forgetting something.

… 

WAIT! Ohhhhhh, you forgot the most important question! The most important part of your job!!! You call out to them before they can leave the salon.

“Housemaiden Traveler!” 

They whip their head around to address you. There’s a frantic hope in their eyes. “Yes?”

“Do you like it?”

They look in the mirror again. For a long time. An excruciatingly long time. He touches it, shakes it, runs both his hands through it. You hadn’t considered it before, but looking at them now… he looks a lot more Vaugardian with the dark hair. The accent still gives them away, but at a glance, it would be hard to tell. 

“Yeah.” Housemaiden Traveler nods happily. “You did great, Mirabelle.”

Oh… ! They’re so casual with you! That would annoy you if they did that earlier, but… you do feel like you understand him a lot more, right now.

“Thank you, Traveler.”

He beams. “Trap room. This time tomorrow. Don’t forget!”

“I won’t!”

They smile at you one more time before leaving the room. It’s… bittersweet. Like they’re saying goodbye to you. And - you are! Technically! But does he have to look at you like a kicked puppy? You’re going to see him again tomorrow. 

You wave him away softly, trying your best to be as reassuring as possible.

You have a day off today! 

You feel like you should be doing something, but you can’t think of a single thing. 

Instead, you spend the day reading horror anthologies in your room! Claude prods you about staying in there for too long, apparently she’s got things she wants to do, experiments she needs to conduct. But too bad! It’s your free day and you’re going to have a good time with it! You’re going to walk around in the fresh air, you’ll take an extended nap, and you’ll go to the cafeteria at the exact time when your favorite dishes are being served!!

But something feels off. It's like... you're missing something? Like you forgot you had an appointment? But you look at your schedule and it's all clear.

You draw a bath for maximum relaxation, and you’re in there longer than normal. You planned this, on some level - on your conditioning days you like to sit in the warm water while your hair absorbs everything. The long bath can help with anxiety, the doctor says. It definitely loosens up your joints and makes everything snap and crack grossly. And you always take in a nice little drink with you. It’s never wine, but you always put it in a fancy little wine glass for the whimsy. 

But the bath is where your thoughts drift most often. And when your thoughts drift, the headaches reach in to attack.

You can stave off some of this while going through the motions of your personal care routine! It won’t last forever, but it’s something.

After you get all your braids out, you give everything a gentle comb-through. It’s nice that you took the cosmetology class, because now you know all of the science behind your hair’s behavior! It’s been mad at you lately. You really needed a conditioning day. It’s still all dried out from when you had a few years of straightening it as a teenager. You need to do a chop soon. You’ll… save that from when you need a big Change, you think. Keep it in your back pocket. 

When you’re all done combing, you look down into the water at your own reflection.

Yep! That’s Mirabelle.

That… sure is what she looks like! 

She’s not plain. She’s not a supermodel. She’s pretty cute, with her big eyes and wavering little lip. You like how she looks with her hair down like this, but it’s much easier to show Change if the style rotates every couple months. You don’t have any positive or negative feelings towards how Mirabelle looks. She just looks like that, and you’re too attached to her to Change her face, her hair, her body, but you also don’t know what about her you like anymore.

It’s just… you.

That’s it. 

She does have one bright hair right at her hairline, though. What! You just turned twenty, are you going bright already? You thought it was a joke when people said hair goes bright from stress. Maybe you need to adjust your medication dosage. The idea of being so stressed that it’s brightening your hair is stressing you out more!

Oh, well. It’s just one strand. You pluck it out and move on. 

The weird feelings start to crawl up while you condition and wrap your hair. That’s not ideal. You’ll have to sit for at least half an hour more while this seeps through. If you zone out enough, will you be able to skip over these weird, blurry feelings?

Well.

No.

Today’s flavor of weird catches you off guard. Usually it's just static that you can't reach through and parse. Today, it's pounding, pulsing reminders of you sitting at the sidelines as a kid at the Change festivals, of the panic attack you had at your Joining Ceremony. Of all the classes you zone out in, of, of - !

You need to go to the trap room.

No! That’s weird! Does the House even have a trap room? 

This is stupid. You’re too old to have these crazy impulses. What would you even do in the trap room? Get yourself killed? Is this some kind of anxiety symptom, too? Nobody told you about this. 

... Okay. Fine. 

Go ahead and think through it. If you’re going to get a headache anyway, might as well chase this thought and see if you can reach some kind of conclusion.

Why do you want to go to the trap room?

You haven’t taken the trap class yet. You don’t know if you want to, really. It doesn’t appeal to you the same way that pottery, acting, gardening, sewing, or fencing does. It's not mandatory, either. You don’t know anybody from the trap room. The Housemaiden that works there, you only know them as the trap expert. You don’t have a name for them in your head. 

There’s no academic connection, there’s no personal connection.

But.

Didn’t someone ask you to meet them in the trap room, once?

It feels like someone drags an icepick over your brain as you try to remember who or when you were asked to go there. 

Claude isn’t a traps person. She’s more of a chemist. 

Housemaiden Beatrice has just as much anxiety as you do, and doesn’t like anything dangerous.

Housemaiden Fontaine is a candlemaker, not a traps expert. 

Housemaiden Edwain is a skilled object Crafter, but they mostly make fun novelties and not anything defensive like traps. 

Housemaiden Euphrasie might, but if she was the one who asked, you would have gotten a few reminders by now.

Housemaiden Toille wouldn’t ask, you haven’t spent much time with him yet.

Housemaiden Traveler would.

…

Out of the bath, you’re not sure what you want to do with your evening! It’s been a peaceful day.

But! You just remembered! You still haven’t hung out with Housemaiden Toille that much. He offered to when you first came to the House, but he’s friendly to everyone. Maybe you can see if your rest schedules are aligned. Hopefully his invitation to you wasn’t a fluke or an obligation.

It wasn’t! He shows you around the House, to all of the weird, cool rooms your normal classes don't take you to. You see lots of familiar faces on the way! Housemaiden Edwain is pouring out molten silver for a giant mirror of some kind, Housemaiden Beatrice is running fresh vegetables over to the cook. Housemaiden Euphrasie is wandering around the hallways with a map and a stack of notes, and Housemaiden Fontaine is inspecting the evacuation orbs to make sure their Craft hasn't fizzled out. The House really does seem like a living thing when everyone's got some project or another!

You'd feel guilty about playing hooky, but resting is part of working, too.

Toille passes by a set of stairs on the highest floor, and you can’t help but crane your head around the hall as you pass.

“What’s that?” It’s a very steep set of stairs. “Is that how you get to the roof?”

“No, the roof is closed at night for…” Toille spaces out mid-sentence. He shakes his head and gets back on track quickly. “I think that’s storage, up there?”

“Why would there be a storage room on the top floor?”

“I - " This time, Toille pauses more harshly. You wave a hand in front of his face, curious, and he grabs you by the shoulder. “Mirabelle! Someone works there!”

“Huh?”

“Someone…” His grip loosens on you. “It’s not for storage. I think some kind of scientist works there. I don’t know who.”

“Can we go check?”

Toille stares down the hall for a long time. 

“No. He doesn’t like to be bothered.” Toille’s hand drops from you. He reaches up to clutch his head. “I… think I should go to the infirmary. My head’s killing me.”

You nod, and let him lean on you as you take him downstairs. Other Housemaidens shoot you sympathetic looks as you pass by. This isn’t a rarity. There’s always one or two Housemaidens hobbling over to the infirmary most days. 

As you move towards the infirmary, you feel… off, again. You’re in there so often, it’s no wonder your body has started associating it with headaches and fatigue. It’s inconvenient, for sure. Toille is much worse off than you right now. You need to get him to the doctor! 

But. There’s something close to the infirmary you need to look at.

There’s somewhere you need to be.

You don’t know why, but as you walk down the last hall to the infirmary, you ask Toille, "do we have a trap room?"

"Yeah, actually. We can see it after I get something for my head, if you want."

"I’m… fine." You're not even sure why you brought it up. Your heart digs at you, pleads you to run there immediately and turn the whole room upside down. But you're old enough not to give into those weird obtrusive thoughts anymore. You should tell the doctor about it once you drop Toille off in the infirmary. "I just remember meeting a trap expert when I joined, so..."

"The trap experts work in the trap room, yeah." Toille laughs, recalling some story. He's a big gossip, it turns out! "They actually - oh, Change is that - "

The trap expert in question runs towards you and Toille. They're panting, out of breath, and pale as a sheet.

"H-head Housemaiden is...!" 

Without hearing the rest of the explanation, Toille winds up his hands and claps once, powerfully. It sends a craft alarm throughout the closest set of hallways, now filled with pulsating lights and whirring noises. You’re surprised he can craft something like that on the fly when he’s injured like this! 

You hold onto Toille defensively. "What's going on?"

"This happens sometimes, it's okay." Toille unhooks you from him and starts to stumble where the trap expert ran in from. "You can go back to your room, we'll take care of it!"

You stand frozen in the hallway, watching a dozen or so Housemaidens run past you to a singular point. They were all so peaceful and focused on their own things before, but they leap directly into action. It feels wrong to just sit here and watch them all run to fix an emergency. But - is this an emergency where more people means it gets fixed quicker? Or is it an emergency that gets worse if someone uninformed waltzes in and messes it all up?

Your legs make the decision for you. The decision buzzes out of your mind, and then it's not really a decision - you're supposed to go to the trap room. Something's happening in the trap room. You need to be there.

You were asked to be there...! 

The door is blocked by other Housemaidens when you arrive. Your head is pounding, you feel another migraine coming on, but you can't bring yourself to care. You were asked to come to the trap room. Without any grace, you push past the least solid looking Housemaidens to get through the door. They're too shocked to be offended. It takes you a minute to see the full scene out in front of you.

It's the Head Housemaiden, and... someone.

Someone important.

But you don't know them. They're wearing robes, the same ones new Housemaidens put on. But the last Joining Ceremony was yours, and you swear they weren't there. There were four of you there - You, Fontaine, Edwain, and the one with darkless hair that you can never remember the name of. This Housemaiden has lightless hair, and you've never seen anyone in the House with that shade of hair with that face, that height, those robes.

The Head Housemaiden is holding the little Housemaiden by the arm, and you can see the skin around her fingers darken as she grips tight. The unknown Housemaiden stands there, frozen. With how perfect and even their breaths are, you could be fooled into thinking they were in control. But you know they aren't. Your stay at the House has been brief, and you know the Head Housemaiden is always the one in charge. A few Housemaidens are circled around the two of them, staying at a safe distance, ready at a moment's notice to jump in and pull someone away from the conflict.

You think the only reason they haven't done so already is to keep the Head Housemaiden from blasting craft all over the place.

"Who are you," she says, more as a command than a question, "and why were you hiding in our trap room for the entire day?"

"I - " The Housemaiden breathes in, out, and speaks too calmly for how panicked they look. It's like they're reciting a script, as if they think these exact words will diffuse the situation and get the Head Housemaiden away from them. "I'm Housemaiden Traveler, I work as an astronomer here, I've been here for seven years. You can check your records and - "

That's Housemaiden Traveler? You thought they had darkless hair, not lightless. That must be why you didn't recognize them...!

"Head Housemaiden." Housemaiden Euphrasie moves closer to the pair. "Loosen your grip."

The rest of the room joins in with their own warnings, emboldened by Euphrasie's request. The room is filled with voices, too many for you to pick out, but it's stilled to silence once more when Housemaiden Traveler yelps out. You see a squeeze and hear a snap. She's putting craft into her grip.

"Are all of you able to be fooled this easily?" The Head Housemaiden sneers at the rest of the crowd. She's not very kind even on a good day, but you've never seen her this tense. "Have I not taught this House anything?"

Housemaiden Euphrasie takes a single step closer to the pair. "What are you teaching us by holding one of your own Housemaidens like that?"

"So you don't think it's suspicious?" The Head Housemaiden doesn't look out to the audience anymore. She keeps her eyes on Housemaiden Traveler. "That a stranger in our robes spent the entire day in the trap room? That this unnamed person with a fictional job belongs here?"

"Even if they're not a Housemaiden..." You hear Housemaiden Fontaine peep out from behind you. "Isn't it our duty to take in those in need?"

"It's not our duty to be gullible."

“It’s also not our duty to be violent towards newcomers.” This time, you hear Toille's voice speak up. “If they’re truly a stranger, shouldn’t we - "

“Once again.” The Head Housemaiden pulls Housemaiden Traveler closer to her. “A stranger that hides in one of our security rooms isn’t innocent. Don’t you think?”

Housemaiden Traveler takes in a sharp breath. “I - "

The Head Housemaiden tugs them forward once more. “A stranger that’s been sending all of our Housemaidens into fits of sickness?”

Housemaiden Traveler can’t taken another breath.

“A stranger that - "

Something deeper in you snaps awake. You push yourself further through the crowd until you’re situated at the head of it. If nobody else is defending them, if nobody else can rip them from the Head Housemaiden, if nobody else can name them, then maybe you - ! Maybe you, maybe you, maybe you - !!

Your voice rips out of your throat as a visceral growl, like every word is a stab into yourself.

"He has a name, Head Housemaiden, it's ★ - "

Your body punishes you before you can finish.

It feels like someone reaches into your throat and pulls out a single layer of your esophagus. Someone must heal you instantly - directly after, it feels like your mouth’s been shoved with candy, sugardust falling into your lungs. It should be a relief, it should be sweet and comforting, but it’s more like someone’s taken your intestines and tied them into a knot over your stomach. 

You’re bleeding when you hit the ground.

You wake up in the trap room, ears ringing. There are still half a dozen Housemaidens in here, but not as many as there were when you passed out.

Did you pass out? Your head’s pounding too much for you to remember. You’re being held, you think, with the way the soft fabric behind you lifts and falls to a familiar rhythmic beat. Weakly, you tilt your head to get a better look. 

A Housemaiden with a messy lightless bob clutches onto you, and is the first to notice your consciousness.

They breathe out in relief. "She's awake," they call out.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but they clasp their palm over your face.

"Don't say it. Don't say it." He removes his hand. "Just... forget about it."

Forget about what? What are they talking about? Another headache forms, and you don't have the energy to chase this line of interrogation.

Thankfully, you do have enough sense to stammer out, "wh, what happened?"

"Well..." Toille enters your vision, kneeling down in front of you. He presses a little bit of Healing Craft into your fingers, just as a comfort. "They're sending an interim Head Housemaiden from House Corbeaux."

"WHAT!" 

"It's not that surprising." Toille speaks calmly, slowly. "She attacked another Housemaiden."

"SHE DID?" 

"You were there,” you hear Housemaiden Fontaine call out from out of your field of vision. "You were the most upset about it."

"You screamed so loud you started bleeding!" Toille looks past your head very quickly at the Housemaiden behind you before continuing. "And then the Head Housemaiden let go of Housemaiden Traveler to check on you. I think once someone else got injured, it snapped her back into reality."

When did this happen? 

"... Stop pushing it." The Housemaiden holding onto you presses their fingers to your hairline, checking for injuries. "She won't remember."

"We all need reminders sometimes,” Toille says, guilty and sad and chiding all at the same time.

The Housemaiden keeping you upright tightens their grip. You don't have the heart to tell them it hurts, a little.

“Okay, okay, move.” Claude pushes past the spectators and stands over you. She’s also bloodied, with a dark bruise around her eye and a split lip. 

"Claude?" You hardly recognized her with the shiner.

"I punched her in the face. I don't care if she's an old lady." She crouches down in front of you and pokes at the injured Housemaiden behind you, pointing at their hair. "Alright. That didn't work. Don't change that again."

The Housemaiden shrinks under you. "Okay."

"It took all of us longer than usual to remember." It’s weird, seeing Claude lecturing a stranger so harshly. "And that longer was obviously enough time for Head Housemaiden to flip out and - "

"I know." The Housemaiden hides behind you. "I'll keep it like this."

He doesn’t seem entirely happy to keep it like that, whatever “it” is. 

Housemaiden Euphrasie walks up to Claude, leaning over her shoulder to look your way. You ignore how Claude stiffens at the act, focusing at the way Euphrasie’s expression hardens while watching you. Do you have something in your teeth?

… Oh. You do have blood in your teeth. You reach up and wipe it away. 

"Traveler," Euphrasie says, taking her attention off of you and placing it on the Housemaiden you’re still laying on, "you promised you'd check yourself into the infirmary once Housemaiden Mirabelle woke up."

That’s Housemaiden Traveler? They don’t look anything like him! 

Housemaiden Traveler helps you sit and balance on your own before they stand up to meet Euphrasie. You don't realize until you're pushed away, but one of their arms is bruised and twisted out of place. "... I thought you forgot."

"Not quite yet." Euphrasie beams, proud of herself.

It seems like something they should be happy about, but he sneers. 

“Fine. I’ll go to the infirmary,” he says, reluctant.

"Not on your own." Housemaiden Edwain rushes over to stand next to them. "I'm staying next to you until you're in an infirmary bed."

“You - “ Housemaiden Traveler tucks their chin into their robes. For how angry they look, they’re acting awfully shy. “I can be left alone, you know.”

“And you know what happens when you are, right?” Euphrasie is smiling, but there’s no happiness in her words. 

Housemaiden Traveler doesn’t answer her. 

“You should let people try to help,” she adds, softer.

Housemaiden Traveler stays silent.

Euphrasie’s smile turns manic. "... You're not running from us again."

Housemaiden Traveler matches her. "Watch me."

Gracefully, Housemaiden Edwain offers a hand to Housemaiden Traveler. He flinches as they move closer, so Edwain backs off. Huh! You wonder why they were okay clutching onto you. Maybe you’re just that injured. Housemaiden Traveler turns to look at you one last time. They’re a lot more hurt than you gave them credit for. Why else would they look so deep in pain? You should visit them in the infirmary. 

Well, you’ll probably be in the bed right next to them, at this rate.

Housemaiden Traveler and Edwain leave, and your head goes back to buzzing in confusion. What happened, really? Nobody’s saying much. The Head Housemaiden isn’t here, she must have been taken somewhere else. Did she really hurt you? It’s been scrubbed clean from your memory.

You tilt your head up to Euphrasie. “Am I… missing something?”

“Yes!” Euphrasie laughs softly and kneels down to check up on you. “Oh, you took such a tumble back there! How are you feeling?”

"My head’s better, but..." Another sharp pain hits the middle of your forehead. "I'm a little lost, still?"

"I'll bet!" Claude reaches down and grabs your chin. She pries open your jaw, looking inside. "What was that reaction all about?"

"Claude, don't make her think too hard." Euphrasie reaches over to smooth out your hairline. Her thumb rests right where your headache keeps threatening to form. It’s soothing. "Give her some time to heal before we try acclimating another person."

"... Fine." Claude lets go of you.

You stay laid out on the floor, dumbfounded. There’s something they’re not telling you. Nobody else in the room wants to step up either. You lean backwards, looking for some kind of comfort, but all that’s there is the wall you’re leaned up against. 

It’s lonely.

"... I don't get them,” Euphrasie says, quietly, as if she doesn’t expect anyone else to hear, "if it affected me too, I'd want to stay as close to everyone as possible."

"Get who?" Claude asks.

Euphrasie sighs. "We'll talk about it later."

Toille reaches down for your hand, and you let him pull you standing. You waver on your feet. Your memory stays as a blur throughout your whole walk to the infirmary. You’re laid down in the bed next to a Housemaiden with lightless hair and an arm wrapped up in a cast. You can't help but worry for them, even if they're a stranger. Their face is twisted up so painfully in their sleep. You keep your eyes on them for your whole examination. It just feels like that's what you're supposed to do. The doctor gives you some medicine for your splitting headache, unsure what happened to you. They suggest you get some sleep.

It sounds like a great idea. You hover over the stranger's bed before you do, watching them.

They breathe in that same, steady rhythm that you almost have memorized. It's strangely intentional for something he's doing in his sleep. You lean forward to poke them in the cheek, just as evidence that they're truly asleep, and -

Oh! You shouldn't. He's injured and probably doesn't want to be touched.

... Everyone in the House is so nice. You wonder why this Housemaiden hides from them.

They flinch whenever anyone reaches for them. You wonder if it's because of the Head Housemaiden. You've never seen anyone use Rock Craft so destructively like that.

You send a little prayer to the Change God. It feels wrong to pray their way - you're still being convinced on Change, and Traveler doesn't believe in them at all. But you don't have anyone else to ask. The spot on your forehead burns as you finish your prayer, causing you to sway off balance.

The doctor shoos you into bed, and you keep a steady watch on the Housemaiden next to you until your eyes can't stay open any longer.

It must be near midnight when your eyes crack open. Your eyelids are too heavy for you to see clearly out of them, but you can hear the person in the bed next to you shuffle out from under the blankets. You hear paper tearing further near your feet - someone’s removing the patient notes from the end of the bed next to yours. 

Oh, that’s nice. That other Housemaiden must have gotten discharged.

You hope they recover well. 

Chapter Text

The interim Head Housemaiden is a child.

The entire House can’t help but feel condescended to. House Dormont had a crisis, and Corbeaux sends a teenager? Someone who shouldn’t even be traveling on her own. She came up to House Dormont’s door alone, cheery, chipper, like her whole journey here was just a little vacation. You can’t imagine her making the trip by herself. Picturing her pitching a tent or hunting for food is nearly impossible. She’s so little, she’s tinier than you and - and other short people! She practically danced here in her musical bangles and her cute, poofy skirt. Was she out in the world all alone like that?

You forget sometimes, but -  no! No, no no no, she didn’t come alone. She has a retainer. Bodyguard. That one guy. Tall, armored, darkless hair reaching the floor. House Corbeaux wasn’t going to send a teenager halfway across the country on her own, of course. He’s so sneaky! You always forget he’s there until he’s right behind you, looming, watching. And he’s a good bodyguard, too. Housemaidens keep challenging him to fights, because of the weird huge armor he has on, and he’ll decimate them near instantly. All he does is snap his fingers and a couple moves later, BOOM!

Once, you asked him for his name.

And he told you it didn’t matter.

… You wonder what’s going on with him. You’ve never met before, but something about him makes your heart scream at you.

Neither him nor the Head Housemaiden he’s protecting are very well liked. Everyone’s cordial, and there aren’t any overt fights, but. You hear whispers. Gossip. It’s hard to be actually mad at the temporary Head Housemaiden, because she’s really good at her job. But she always does it with a too-wide smile, a reminder that she’s better than everyone and half their age, too. And that’s not even getting into how you hear Euphrasie talking about her bodyguard. You’ve never heard her disliking anyone before…!

Well, other than the previous Head Housemaiden.

Sometimes, the retainer will come to your door, searching for someone. Spouting foreign, alien words to you. Some of them are familiar, achingly so, but you can't place a memory to them. You never know what he’s talking about until he leaves and Housemaiden Traveler runs out of your bathroom, sputtering embarrassed thank-yous and apologies. 

… You’re not sure why they’re apologizing to you, anyway. Did something happen? When did they get into your room? 

And now that you think about it - there’s something you’ve been meaning to ask them, isn’t there? You’ve been curious about it for a while! Now, Housemaiden Traveler is circling your room, ranting and raving about some imaginary person you’ve never heard about, and you figure you should ask. This would be the perfect time to get answers.

“ - and that’s not going to do anything, he’s out of his mind, and - nngh!” Housemaiden Traveler buries their face in their hands and lets out a frustrated shout. “This is supposed to be a punishment, why does he think the étoiles would care about his wish - "

“Housemaiden Traveler,” you say, interrupting them. It’s rude, but if you don’t say anything now, it’ll escape you. “Um… why do you hide from everyone in the House?”

They stop dead in their pacing circle.

You’ve never seen someone’s face portray nothing before.

He quickly affixes an expression on there. Is that fear? Excitement? Mania? “What do you mean?”

“We-well, it’s just!!” What do you mean? “You’re never at mealtimes or in class or anywhere we can find you.”

Any positive emotions put in that little mask they wear slip right out. “Oh. I’m there.”

… Is he?

“Let’s do a little experiment.” Housemaiden Traveler walks to the end of your room and sits on your bed. “Who was the last person to knock on your door?”

“Um… you?” What kind of question is this?? “When I let you inside here?”

“And…” They grab one of your pillows, shielding their face with it. “Who was the last person to knock on your door?”

“Still you?” What is going on???

This answer seems to be more satisfactory for them. “And why did I come in here?”

That’s easy, they’re hiding from…

…

“You’re hiding.” You poke at a raw spot on your hairline, trying to remember what from. It doesn’t come, though. “You’re hiding.”

He’s a little disappointed, but shrugs. “Close enough.”

“So why are you hiding from the other Housemaidens?” You ask the question again. You won't be fooled by Housemaiden Traveler trying to distract you from the answer.

He lays down on your bed (hey!!) and stares up at the ceiling. You can’t read their expression at all. They breathe in, and out, in a rhythm that’s beginning to feel familiar. Carefully, you walk over to your own bed and sit at the end of it. 

You’re a little late on the thought, but you wonder why they’re so casual with you. If you’re truly a stranger to them, if them barging in your room was the first time you met - then why do you know their name? Why would you have let them in here? Why do you have this question about them held in your head? Your heart aches when you look at their face. They look at you like you’re an old friend with a terminal illness. Like you’re going to disappear at any moment. 

This can’t have been the first time you met them. It doesn’t make sense, logically.

But you don’t have any other explanation for why you don’t know them.

Housemaiden Traveler breathes in deeply. “I make people’s heads hurt if I spend too much time with them.”

“Huh?”

“Why I hide from the other Housemaidens.” He looks away from you. “It’s not fair to them.”

It’s an answer, but you’re not sure if it’s all there is to it. You don’t know Housemaiden Traveler very well, but it’s… too altruistic of an excuse. 

Not that they’re unkind…!

But.

It feels wrong.

“… I don’t think you’re telling me the truth.”

“I’m telling you enough of it.” Housemaiden Traveler leaves your bed. They refuse to look you in the eye.

“But I’m asking for the whole thing,” you say, following after them.

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?” You squint at them suspiciously. “You’re basically admitting you’re lying to me.”

They laugh. It’s not very funny, so you don’t. Their sleeve falls up on their arm as they’re overacting their amusement at the situation. There’s a faint patch of mottled shades on their arm, from an injury struggling to heal. You see marks from where a cast was. That… feels familiar, somehow. 

Everything about Housemaiden Traveler feels familiar. 

“Housemaiden Traveler, do you dislike me?” It’s a blunt question, but you genuinely don’t know the answer.

“No.” It’s an honest answer from him. There’s no room for argument, even with your suspicions.

“Then why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Because,” they say, standing up out of the bed, “you won’t remember in a minute either.”

Housemaiden Traveler strides over to your door. Not a goodbye, no see you later, no normal end to the conversation. Just a full social ejection! You’d think it was rude if you didn’t have a gut feeling that they’re immune to the normal social song and dance of goodbyes.

Not a chance! You’re not going to let them run…!

You tug on his robes. You're grabbing them a lot harder than you meant. There's a desperation in your muscle memory that you can't find the origin for.

“Traveler.” You drop his title. Something about that feels right. “Tell me.”

They’re faster than you, but you’re stronger than them. Even if you’re not a weightlifter, Traveler is barely forty-five kilograms soaking wet. You can keep a tight hold. 

“Please,” you amend, remembering your manners even when Traveler doesn’t.

He refuses to look at you. “Why do you care?” 

Isn’t it just basic manners, to care about other people’s well being? Even if you don’t know them? You’re kind to everyone, you like all of the other Housemaidens, but looking at Housemaiden Traveler makes you feel like there’s been a connection severed on one end. You’d like to have that connection back, even if it’s not a good one. The idea of you not knowing something you should… 

… Your head hurts.

“Because I want to,” is what you settle on. It feels the most correct. 

It’s not the answer they’re looking for, but they nod. 

“… I’ll tell you tomorrow, then.”

“Uh huh.” You don’t believe them. “Tomorrow is the Change Festival.”

“Well, just…” Traveler looks around your room, trying to come up with another excuse. “Come sit off to the side. With me.”

“But we’ll have chores to do, and the Head Housemaiden will want us to be -"

“Who cares?” They sneer. “She’s leaving in a few months.”

That’s… true. But that's still irresponsible! It’ll just leave more work for the other Housemaidens. That’s not fair at all. You very much want to know what’s going on with Traveler, what their whole deal is, but…

… You get the feeling you won’t learn tomorrow.

But they wouldn’t invite you out for no reason, so there must be something they’re willing to show you, right? 

“… And.” They hide their face in the high collar of their robes. “You’ll want to see it.”

“It?”

“Come ask me tomorrow,” he says, cheeky. 

You stare at him until it’s weird.

It’s tomorrow! 

The… Change Festival.

The temporary Head Housemaiden walks up to each of you before the festival, offering personalized encouragements. Well - as personalized as they can get, you suppose? She’s trying. She doesn’t know you as well as any of the Housemaidens do. You straighten up when she comes to talk to you. Whatever she says, it doesn’t matter. You barely remember it. Something about stability? It’s not really meant for you, in the end, it’s just a stock phrase that she’s dressed up to make you feel better. The Housemaiden next to you gets nearly the same encouragement, just some words scrambled around. 

And it’s… intimidating. Watching her run around, drumming up enthusiasm. You were always uncomfortable talking to the Head Housemaiden, so this should be an improvement. But with how young she is, and how skilled, you can’t help but feel…

… No, come on, cheer up, Mirabelle! You don’t have time to act like a little raincloud. That’s not going to get you anywhere. 

Whatever she was trying to accomplish doesn’t work, with how all of you are grumbling and mumbling as you roll out platforms, snack tables, and benches into Dormont. The Head Housemaiden doesn’t let the resentment sit and brew. She stands in front of all of you before any guests arrive and addresses all of the Housemaidens.

“I know this festival might be hard because of everything this House has been through…” The temporary Head Housemaiden’s bracelets jangle together as she waves her arms around. “But!! These festivals are for the towns you serve as much as they are for you. If you can’t put on a smile, we have enough funny masks to go around!!”

Maybe she’s not an expert after all. You only notice the mood lower further after her speech.

“When we decide on our permanent Head Housemaiden,” Fontaine says, after the girl leaves, “I think it should be somebody who we can all have more faith in.”

Everyone nods. There’s some low, scattered talk on who it should be, but nobody comes to any proper conclusion. It’s not a decision the House should make lightly. Even if you don’t like the interim Head Housemaiden, she’s better than having nobody lead you.

 
But until then, the festival is… strange, this year. It’s not like anyone’s expecting any of the Housemaidens to declare anything, with the oppressive air, but you’re still self-conscious that you don’t have anything to announce. Most people in Dormont do, and the ceremony goes on as normal as you all cheer and encourage the villagers’ Changes.

Most of your old friends look entirely different than when you left! They smile at you, call you Housemaiden, and ask how much you’ve Changed in the House. You… do your best to answer their questions honestly, without embellishment, but it’s embarrassing that you don’t have anything big. Now that you’re a Housemaiden, you’re supposed to be an example for them. 

What kind of example stays stagnant like you?

Your parents aren’t here, of course. They don’t believe in any of this. 

All of Dormont has some declaration or another. Changing genders, Changing careers, Changing relationships. Bonding announcements, signups for Body Craft lessons. There are a few pregnancy announcements from some of your school friends - your seniors, of course, but that still seems really young! Are you that behind? 

You're not a citizen of Dormont anymore. You gave that away to study at the House. But you're not a Housemaiden either, really, are you? When you stand next to everyone else, offering encouragements, moving the festival along, you don't look the part. You look like someone from Dormont stole a Housemaiden's robes and jumped into the crowd. And that's what you did, didn't you? You're not supposed to be here? You're cheating, somehow? Faking? Parodying? You've been here for almost a year and you can't say you've found Mirabelle yet.

You just

can’t help but feel like an outsider, no matter what side of the line you stand on.

Someone’s holding onto your hand during the deluge of announcements. You don’t look to see who it is. But you squeeze their hand as hard as they’ll allow. You’re certain they can tell you’re shaking.

You miss the contact when they slip away halfway through the ceremony. 

After everyone in Dormont is done, you’re congratulated by the Head Housemaiden and instructed to start cleaning up. The villagers are still partying and having a good time all around you, but you’ve got work to do! There’s trash to pick up, tables to fold up, platforms to drag back to the House, people to guide back to the House after they sign up for Body Craft sessions… 

You never noticed the Housemaidens doing any of this work when you were a kid. You should have been more thankful!

“Mirabelle!” Euphrasie runs up to you as you’re picking trash up off the snack table. “A few of us are playing hooky for clean-up, do you want to join?”

“H-hooky?” You look around at all the other Housemaidens cleaning up. “But don’t we have to - "

“Oh, hush!” She pulls you away from the snacks table, forcing you to leave your trash bag and gloves on the table. “Something amazing is about to happen, you should come see it!”

Why is Euphrasie singling you out, instead of anyone else?

You’re dragged to the edge of the festival’s clearing, near where you used to sit off at the side as a kid. Two people that look a lot like Euphrasie are helping Housemaiden Traveler set up a big, strange box on the ground. There are a few other people sitting around, all of them with darkless hair! There aren’t a whole lot of people, maybe half a dozen, but it’s still the most darkless heads you’ve ever seen in one place. 

“I’m gonna go get Claude, too!” Euphrasie shoves you to the little group and waves as she runs off. “I’ll be right back!”

“Um…” You stare at the tiny little crowd. “Hi?”

“You were Housemaiden Mirabelle?” A man with dark skin and darkless hair leans forward to shake your hand. He has the same twinkling accent that Euphrasie takes on sometimes. “Euphrasie’s said so much about you!”

Another man walks up with dark hair and glasses. He has a few darkless streaks in his locs - strange, because he’s not old enough to go bright, you don’t think? “You’re the little one that’s making herself sick, aren’t you?”

Hey, most of the other Housemaidens are laid up in the infirmary just as much as you!

“You must be her parents,” you say, dazed, completely unprepared to meet your senior Housemaiden’s family. Is this what it’s like when people talk to their bonded partner’s parents?

“How much do you know about…?” Euphrasie’s darkless-haired father doesn’t finish his sentence, settling for tilting his head towards you.

“Huh?”

“She doesn’t, leave her alone and come help me with this.” Housemaiden Traveler’s still standing off to the side, struggling to hold up that big box. Euphrasie’s parents apologize and scramble back over to keep it lifted as Housemaiden Traveler stands underneath it. You hover near it to check it out.

“What is that?”

“It’s a pinhole projector,” Euphrasie’s dark-haired dad explains, “it’s how you can look up at the soleil without burning your retinas out.”

Wow! What’s a soleil?

You don’t get a chance to ask before Euphrasie comes back with Claude on her arm. The two of them have been getting awfully chummy lately. You’re not mad, it’s just. Weird. You’re not sure what to do with yourself when you’re around them anymore.

“They haven’t been too harsh to you, have they?” Euphrasie asks you as she rejoins the little circle. 

“Not at all!” They have, a little bit, but not in an overbearing way. Just a mysterious way. That must be where Euphrasie got it from! “Um, are all these people your family?”

Euphrasie smiles. “No, just my dads.”

“But they all have the same hair as you.” You gesture up to your own hair, which is lightless like most other people from Dormont. “I had never seen darkless hair until we met!”

You hear a groan from behind you, and a few words of encouragement in a language you don’t know.

“That’s just because they’re all from - " Euphrasie gasps, her eyes turned upwards. She shakes her head. “They’re from the same place as my dad. I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s lovely.”

Now that she mentions it, they do all look like they come from the same country! Euphrasie doesn’t, not as much, but you can see how her features are mixed from the darkless-haired people and Vaugardians. That must be why she has a faint accent you’ve never been able to place. You wonder where it is.

Housemaiden Traveler looks a lot like the people in the crowd, too, but they’re probably not from the same country. He’s got lightless hair! 

“My parents always come to visit for this festival.” Euphrasie turns and smiles at both of them. “It’s not much of a huge party this time, since it’s right in the middle of the Change Festival.”

"It's my third one, here." Euphrasie’s dad, the one with the darkless hair, nods. “And this is the first one since most of these youngsters…”

He doesn’t finish the thought.

“Since what?” you ask, innocently.

Suddenly, dozens of eyes are on you. 

They’re not mad at you, that’s obvious enough. It’s the same expression you’ve seen on - on - you’ve seen it a few times. It’s hope, it’s desperation, it’s longing, it’s… complicated. You don’t know how to name it. The feeling is painful, you can tell that from how they’re wearing it, but you didn’t say anything mean, you just… asked.

“I’ll tell you later, Mirabelle,” Euphrasie says. You know that later means never, but you allow the topic to be dropped.

But now that you think about it, it’s weird that there’s another festival right in the middle of this one. You’ve never seen any of this before. “Is this festival always during the Change Festival?” 

“No, it’s whenever the Univers chooses,” one of the spectators in the little crowd says.

Huh! What’s the Univers?

Again, you don’t have much time to ask. The Head Housemaiden’s bodyguard approaches the little mini-festival, and everyone tenses at his presence. It’s not like most people come to a happy festival in full combat armor. Euphrasie passes by you to talk to him before he can get to the group proper.

“Hi, can we help you?” She’s smiling, but unhappy.

“I am not here to debate.” He holds up one hand to interrupt her. It looks unnatural, like he’s more used to having his hands balled up in fists. “I would just like to participate in the festival. To see something from home once more.”

“You’re more than welcome to!” Euphrasie claps once, cheery. A dark shadow falls over her face as she speaks. “If you’re done, that is.”

“Done with what, may I ask?”

“You know.”

The bodyguard tilts his head to look towards you and Claude. You snap your eyes to her, wondering if she knows what that’s about, but she just shrugs. 

“Are you not worried about losing what you have built here?” He gestures to the crowd. "You've all lost yourselves. What you cultivated before this. Are you willing to lose more?"

“… I think you should leave,” she says, still trying to stay as sunny as possible.

“Vaugarde has been so welcoming to us, hasn’t it?” He sniffles, although you’re not sure how genuine he is. “Do you not wish - "

“I don’t wish anything. I’ve never been there.” Euphrasie, at the end of her polite smile, shoos him away. “Turn around. I want you out of my sight, I don’t want to think about you any longer.”

“You... cannot understand.” The bodyguard looks past you, past Euphrasie, past Claude, at the group of darkless-haired people. “The rest of you - "

“I want you out of my memory.” 

Euphrasie is much, much taller than the bodyguard. You don’t envy his position, with the way she’s looking down on him! You don’t have a clue what they’re talking about, but it seems… important. You don’t see Euphrasie this angry so often. The last time she was like this was when the last Head Housemaiden…

… You don’t want to think about it.

The bodyguard hesitates. There’s more he wants to say. But you know Euphrasie wouldn’t let him. He seems to know that, too. He mumbles a shy farewell out and walks back towards Dormont, where the temporary Head Housemaiden is still cheerfully waltzing around singing and giving advice. You consider chasing him with your eyes for as long as possible, but. You don’t want to. You don’t care so much about him.

“What was that for?” you ask, when Euphrasie walks back to the group.

“Whatever do you mean?” Euphrasie places her hand on her chest, confused. “We’re just about to start this festival, if you’d like to join!”

You… nod. Your head’s throbbing again, but for some reason, you have much less motivation to chase your own confusion. So you don’t! You let the thought fade and die out. That feels right, this time.

“But I have been thinking…” Euphrasie looks down at you and Claude, contemplating. “Do you think this will… scare everyone? If they don’t know it’s coming?”

Everyone freezes.

And then the tension is gone immediately, replaced with laughter.

Housemaiden Traveler laughs so hard, he has to wipe tears out of their eyes. “Of course they know, right? I was warning everyone for weeks.”

“Know what?” you ask, smiling brightly, laughing along with the rest of them.

“What an éclipse is,” Euphrasie says, insistent, her teeth grit together.

What a funny word! “I’ve never heard of that before!”

The laughter dies right in front of you.

Euphrasie runs over to Housemaiden Traveler and makes a worried, high-pitched whine. “Traveler, how long is it until the éclipse?”

“Um.” Housemaiden Traveler ducks their head into the weird box and grimaces. “Like five minutes?”

“Okay! Okay, okay, okay.” She picks up her skirt and starts to run back towards Dormont. “I’m going to go do some damage control! Claude, Mirabelle, can you, um - "

“N-no, I’m going with you!” Claude nervously follows after Euphrasie. “That’s a lot of people to warn!”

Most of the crowd follows Euphrasie and Claude. You don’t know what to do. Whatever Euphrasie wanted you to do is lost in the chaos. You stand next to the projector with Housemaiden Traveler. Maybe they have something to have you do? You turn towards them and stutter out a few false starts, but can’t come up with anything.

“Mirabelle, uh…” Housemaiden Traveler’s lips turn into a flat line. “Do you know what the soleil is?”

You shake your head.

“OKAY.” They sweat. “This is going to be so, entirely, incredibly normal for you.”

“What is?” 

Housemaiden Traveler pulls you to the ground. Your head is right next to a little hole in the bottom of the projector they were setting up. 

“Alright, you have to get comfortable with a lot of things really quickly,” he says, kneeling in front of you, “do you know what daytime is?”

“It’s day right now?” What a weird question!

“Do you know what night is?”

“When it’s dark outside??” Why are they asking this!!!

“So, it’s day outside because of the soleil, and the lune comes out when it’s night - " They huff and puff a little, unsatisfied by their own explanation. “ - that’s not exactly right but it’s close enough?? Anyway, the lune is about to sit in front of the soleil, so it’s going to look like it’s night for a little bit, but - "

“Housemaiden Traveler, are you messing with me again?”

“No.” It’s an honest answer from him. There’s no room for argument, even with your suspicions.

You’re… trying to take this seriously. Honest! But everything they’re saying sounds like a prank, like nonsense, something fake that they made up for a story. Whatever it is, they’re entirely convinced of it. Should you nod along and get them to the doctor as soon as you get back to the House? They look upset, this train of thought is obviously hurting him. 

… Unless there’s some truth to what they’re saying. You feel the wind pick up around you, the air suddenly dropping in temperature, the way all of the birds stop going piou piou. 

The air is dark.

“What’s - "

“This is the éclipse.” They reach for you, which is strange because don’t they hate being touched, but - “It’s okay, It’ll be over in six minutes. You can breathe with me for six minutes, can’t you?”

You try to slow your breathing, but every time you tilt your head upwards you’re taken over by a wave of dizziness. 

“Stop - " Housemaiden Traveler pushes your head down. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Your stomach hurts. You try to look down at the ground, to grab the grass to keep yourself on the -

On the???

“Five minutes, Mirabelle.” Housemaiden Traveler’s voice washes over you. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, finally able to form words.

 
“Yeah.” You feel his hand on your shoulder. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“You do it all the time,” you hiss out, regular manners momentarily thrown away.

Housemaiden Traveler’s hand stutters on you. 

“I wouldn’t lie to you about anything important.”

You manage to pull yourself to sit up straight. Shouts and screams ring out farther near Dormont, but you don’t have the energy to pick up and run over to help. The scenery swims around you. A cool wind sails around your robes, jostling your hair. Your fine baby hairs tug at your scalp - you laid them out before the festival since it was a special occasion, but with how much you’ve rubbed your head today you’re sure they’re knocked all out of place. 

Your eyes creep up past the trees. It’s not as dizzying anymore. 

“Mirabelle?”

“I’m okay.” You tilt your head further up to look at the - to look at the - ?

“That’s the ciel.” Housemaiden Traveler explains carefully, but confused. Like you should already know what this big thing is. “You can look up, if you want. I’ll tell you when it stops being safe.”

You look at the ciel. It’s… huge. You’re not sure why you’ve never noticed it. It’s dark, right now. Not as dark as it can get, you think. The lighting all around you is unnerving. It doesn’t look like daytime, and it also doesn’t look like nighttime. You follow the ciel until you see - 

“What’s that?”

“That’s the soleil.” Housemaiden Traveler points up to a small, bright ring floating in the ciel. The center is completely lightless. “I mean - I guess right now you’re mostly seeing the lune. But the bright part around it is the soleil.”

You’re… not sure what any of these words mean. But you look up at the… soleil anyway. 

It’s a circle inside of a circle.

“That’s pretty,” you breathe out.

“Right?”  

 
“This was supposed to be a festival, right?” You don’t dare take your eyes off it. “What was it called, again?” 

“This is an éclipse.” The word feels awkward coming out of Housemaiden Traveler, like it’s not what they usually call it. “It doesn’t happen a lot. This is rare.”

You have a million questions. Why is this happening? Why does it make the ciel so dark? What would have happened if there was an éclipse in the rain? How does Housemaiden Traveler know so much about it? Can you touch it? How far away is it?

But you know what you need to ask instead.

“Can I ask you something?”

“It’s my job. I do actually have one, you know.” You’re not looking their way, but you can hear them smirk. “Go for it.”

“What’s bigger than Vaugarde?”

“… Terre,” he says, hesitant.

“And what’s bigger than that?”

“Your système solaire.”

“Is there anything bigger?”

Housemaiden Traveler stumbles over a few words. They’re not answering for lack of knowledge. It’s that the answer hurts them. You don’t know why it would - he’s been so knowledgeable about all the rest of this! 

“Mirabelle, look down.” Your head is pulled back down to look at the grass. “You’ll blind yourself if you keep looking up.”

“Huh?”

“You can watch the rest of the éclipse through this,” he says, showing you the weird box. You have to scramble underneath it and put your head through the hole in the bottom to see anything. It’s just a crescent of light on cardboard, but you imagine seeing that big disc in the ciel instead. 

When you crawl out from under the box, the ciel is back to its normal shade. The wind dies down. You wonder why it got so cool when the éclipse was happening, and you get the sense that Housemaiden Traveler would know the answer to that, but… your energy for questions fizzled out with the end of the éclipse. Instead, you turn to face Housemaiden Traveler with a smile.

“Thank you for showing me that, Traveler.” You duck your head down. "Sorry for freaking out at the beginning. Since it's important to you."

“It’s fine,” he says, shy. And then, more bold, “you won’t remember it tomorrow, though.”

Something in the back of your head tells you he’s right. “But I still liked to see it now.”

“Aren’t you worried that you’re forgetting everything?”

It’s concerning, for sure. But you don’t know what you’re missing, so it’s hard to feel too broken up about it. You’d like to know why you can’t hold any of this in your head, but you know if you asked, you wouldn’t be given an answer today. It feels like a secret you’re not allowed to be clued in on yet.

You wonder what you’d have to do to be let in.

“Why are you hiding from the rest of the Housemaidens?” you ask, again, remembering the question. You wonder if Traveler is bored of answering this same question over and over again. You’re sure you’ve asked it a million times.

“Because of this.” They gesture weakly between the two of you. “It doesn’t matter how much of a good time you’re having. You’ll forget it.”

“But you won’t, right?” You wiggle your lip at Traveler, putting on your most pitiful face. “It seems like it’d be hard to talk to anyone if they’re always acting like a stranger to you.”

“… It’s less hard than it used to be. But you’re right.” Traveler refuses to look at you. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not hurting me.”

“You just don’t remember it.”

“Then it’s not a problem!” You do your best to smile at them welcomely. “This is your House too. You should feel safe in it.”

Traveler doesn’t answer. This conversation must be uncomfortable for them, with all of the fidgeting and breathing exercises they’re doing. But you need to have it. You need to drill into their head that you want them around. Even if you don’t know it. You want that. 

"No it's not." They refuse to look you in the eye. "It's not my House."

You're stung with a painful pang of empathy.

Shake off your own insecurities, Mirabelle. "Why else would you be here?"

"Be - because I - " He's almost given you the answer. It's on the tip of their tongue. "... How do you say it in Vaugardian? Being 'grounded?' Is that the right word?"

"Like when your parents punish you?" You didn't know Traveler had parents!

Well. Everyone does, even if they don't speak to them or know them. But it just feels off thinking about Traveler having any.

"Close enough."

"You're not a kid, though?"

"I was when I came to Vaugarde." They preemptively wave away all of the questions you immediately shoot up with. "Anyway. I live here, but it's not really mine."

"I - I think I know what you mean." You bunch your hands up in your skirt. "I've almost been here a year, but I haven't... decorated my room at all."

Your admission freezes Traveler in confusion. "Is that the same thing?"

"Maybe not?"

Traveler studies you for a long moment without saying anything. You wonder how much they know about you, if you can't know anything about them. He probably knows that you don't even belong here, that you're faking your own faith. That everyone around you - even the temporary Head Housemaiden, who isn't old enough to drink - is better at Changing than you. How long has Traveler known you? Have they noticed how little you change compared to everyone else in the House?

Their gaze on you softens. "... Do you want the nice version of what I want to say, or the real version?"

"Can I have both?" You grin, shy. "Because it's a holiday?"

"Sure, Mirabelle." He laughs. "Because it's a holiday."

You lean forward, eyes big and wide and waiting.

"If you're this bent up about staying in the House, you don't have to be here." They point their thumb behind them, towards the forest. "I'd help you run off, too. The big tree at the west of town looks extremely nap-able, we don't even need a tent."

... Was that supposed to be the nice version or the real version?

"But, also." He breathes in, breathes out. "You belong here."

Oh.

You hope that was the real version. With the way they're looking at you, it probably is. It's so simple, but... you need it to be. If there's any room for you to argue with it, you will. You don't know what you've done to make them think that, what you've accomplished here, but... someone else noticed. That's enough for you, right now, you think.

"... Thank you, Traveler." You clasp your hands together in thanks. "You belong here, too. Even if you don't think so!"

"N-no." Their face goes dark, embarrassed.

"Yes!" You tilt your head towards them, trying to be as friendly as possible. "Everyone would have freaked out at the éclipse if you didn't know exactly when it was going to happen!"

"Again, it's my job." He lets out one little wry laugh. "Ask me what an astronomer is sometime, I'll figure out how I'm supposed to explain that to someone who doesn't know what an étoile déchue is."

"I think this is the most you've ever said about yourself," you say, smiling. "You're so quiet, usually!"

"Sorry." Traveler hunches over so far trying to retreat into their robes that you're worried they'll turn into a turtle. "I'll stop."

“No! You should keep talking to me.” You don’t take your eyes off of them. “Please don’t hide.”

“But I - "

“Traveler.” You hold out your hands. Traveler won’t take them, you know this - but you need to offer. “Please talk to me again?”

“… Okay.” Traveler does take your hands. He must be doing it for your sake.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

…

You don’t have to know them very well to know a lie when you see one.

Chapter Text

You run south, south, until you hit the big clearing in the field. The grass surrounds you in rings, circles inside of circles.

It's a stupid thing, to run off from dinner just because you were chided for not eating your vegetables. But you did it anyway! You just needed to be out of that crabbing house for ten minutes. The pressure's so thick you can hardly breathe in there anymore. It's easier to exist as yourself out here. No expectations. No gossip.

You look up. The stars look back down at you, clear and bright. You wonder if any of them judge you, too.

People used to wish on stars, didn't they? Before they started disappearing?

Maybe you -

You wake up in the darkness of your room, sweating, feverish. Claude is undisturbed. Good - she's usually the one that wakes you up, you don't want to give her any ammo against you during your roommate squabbles.

Quickly, you pull out your dream journal and put pen on paper. The journal doesn’t have a single word in it, even though you've been using it for months. There are plenty of marks, though. For every night you forget a dream. Bitterly, you drag another aching penstroke onto the page and deposit the journal back into your bedside table. The ink is kind of a weird shade, but it's dark and you can't squint to see it too well. You're probably just tired.

Feeling hot, you reach for the thermometer. Thirty-eight degrees. That’s not good! Like usual, your forehead is on fire. Right in the middle, sitting directly on your hairline. You put a few Crafts into it for relief. If you’re still feverish when you wake up in the morning, you’ll go to the infirmary. Probably. Maybe.

Ughhhh, but you’re there too often!

You lay back in bed, unsatisfied.

For some reason, you feel like there should be spots on the ceiling.

You’re not very good at gardening.

You must be doing something wrong. The cook grew a radish so big you had to cut it up before she could fit it through the door! Someone has an entire tree growing in here!! Some lazy Housemaiden hasn’t come to a single lesson and has a thriving closed-system terrarium!!!

The teacher gives you “helpful" advice for your dying and mistreated plants. Tells you to water them more, tells you to water them less, suggests you leave it outside for a few days, but then tells you to take it into low light when it starts getting burnt (plants can get burnt!! By WHAT?). Then, you should probably repot it. But repotting is tough on it, so you should only do it when you have to! It feels like all of the advice is contradicting. You’re completely lost. If you knew gardening confused you enough to leave you embarrassed after every class, you wouldn't have signed up to learn.

But now that you're here, you won't give up! You’re taking a lot of time by yourself after every class to read through your notes and try to get your little daisy in shape. It’s not even blooming, it’s barely hanging in there!

Usually you’re left completely alone. You’re acting mopey, after all, and you know it can be a huge downer. Especially when something everyone else can understand just doesn’t click with you! It reminds you so much of when you were younger, when you didn’t understand why people would Change, why they wanted you to, why it was wrong that you wanted to stay the same - 

“Housemaiden Mirabelle?”

EEK! 

You drop your little hand trowel to the ground. It clatters enough to sound like music. You reach down to pick it up, but the Housemaiden that startled you gets to it first. You… don’t remember who this is. They have lightless hair, and are wearing the same robes new Housemaidens are put in when they join, and… there’s just something about them that’s familiar. You can’t place it.

“That thing looks dead,” he says, handing you the trowel back and pointing at your little daisy.

“Housemaiden Traveler.” Right! Right, the one with the terrarium. You look at your plant, grimacing at the sickly shade it’s turned. How shriveled the leaves have gotten. “Um… it’s still alive! Barely! I’m not too good at this.”

“That’s why you’re in the class, right?”

“Well, yes!” You set the trowel on the table. “But it’s hard to really learn. How do you - ”

“It’s easy when it’s in a big jar. I don’t have to do much, it takes care of itself.” They shrug. “All I need to do is make sure it’s got enough light.”

“You still had to set it up!”

“It’s… not the first time I’ve had to make an ecos - ” He scowls at your sad little pot. “Anyway, do you need to know how to grow plants to be a Housemaiden?”

“Not really.” You reach forward to touch one of the decaying leaves. It’s all dried out. “I like to learn new things. I’m just not that… good at any of them.”

“You’re not?”

“Well, I took a cosmetology class half a year ago and nobody let me practice on them.” You like how Housemaiden Traveler’s hair is done. You wish you were as good as their hairdresser, if you ever had gotten the chance to volunteer. 

Housemaiden Traveler raises a brow at you playfully. “Not even one?”

“Not even one!!” It’s an old annoyance, but it still gets to you! “But with how this daisy is going, maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe I would have cut someone’s skull open on accident.”

“You can practice on me.”

“I wouldn’t!” You look at theirs - the only thing they could possibly need is some touchups on his roots. “Your hair is absolutely perfect.”

Their face falls. They’re… sad? You were just trying to compliment them!

“Well, if you’re really having trouble…” He’s so quick to change the subject, for whatever reason. “Why don’t you just wish to get better with plants?”

“Wish for it?” You haven’t given a lot of thought to wishing since you were a little girl. “Like how, at the Favor Tree?”

“What’s that?” They don’t wait for your answer, waving you off. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. You don’t need it.”

He leans forward and plucks one of the dead leaves off your daisy. Hey!!

“You take a leaf. Any leaf, but it’s best if it represents you in some way. If you have a connection to it.” Housemaiden Traveler rolls the dead leaf around their fingers as they explain. Bits of it disintegrate and hit the floor. “Whisper your wish into it, three times - or four, or five…”

So, any number?

“And then fold the leaf, keeping the wish safe inside…” He blows into the leaf and lets it fall to the floor. “And then you can send it away.”

“To anywhere in particular?”

He thinks for a long moment, and then holds out their hand. “To a sponsor? It’s best if it’s to something in the Univers, like an étoile, but I’m the next closest thing. Probably.”

You wonder if he’s joking. They weren’t too enthusiastic with the demonstration. He didn’t even make a wish of his own! And used one of your stupid, shriveled leaves. It’s sitting on the floor now, right by their shoe, ready to be trampled on. If wishing yourself into a skill really worked, wouldn’t they be more reverent about it? 

“Are you gonna try?”

“What?” You look down at your plant. “… I don’t know. I’ll probably mess it up.”

“You can try more than once.” They lean on the counter. “I’ll coach you.”

… You do like learning new things. Doing it once won’t hurt, will it?

You pluck off another dead leaf from your daisy. That represents you a lot, doesn’t it? You’re the person that made it have dead leaves in the first place. You’re just as helpless as this leaf. Built to feed the plant, but unable to be of any use. Brought here to Change, but resistant to. You turn it around in your hands. The poor thing is so shriveled up that it barely jostles from the motion. Can you even wish with this?

Do you want to wish to be better at gardening? You would rather be better yourself, not have it handed to you. It would be a nightmare to be praised for something you cheated yourself into being good at. 

So, instead, you whisper I wish this daisy wouldn’t die into the leaf. You feel… sarcastic asking for it. 

You whisper again, I wish this daisy wouldn’t die. The leaf crunches in your hand. You feel bad for making it like this.

A third time. I wish this daisy wouldn’t die. 

This time you mean it. You fold the leaf over. It cracks in half, so you kiss it to keep it safe instead. You hand it over to Housemaiden Traveler. They’re giving you a weird look.

“You don’t have to kiss it,” they say, disgusted. 

It was a dumb thing to do, but you feel the need to defend yourself!! “I was letting the wish know I loved it!”

Housemaiden Traveler ignores you, and brings the leaf up to their ear. He nods, and then lets the leaf fall to the floor with the other one. They crush it under their shoe.

“Hey!”

“It was all done.” He wipes his shoe off on the ground. “I didn’t kill it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

… Oh.

This was a prank.

Too late for you avoid embarrassing yourself. Housemaiden Traveler probably thinks you’re soooo gullible, they’re going to tell their friends and laugh at you about it for weeks. Your neck tightens, the edges of your eyes sting. Swallow it down, Mirabelle. You’ll make it worse if you start crying in front of him. 

There’s no real Head Housemaiden to report this to, and what would you even say? You got bullied? As if you were on the playground? It’s your fault for falling for any of this. You’re not a child anymore, Mirabelle. 

“I’m… going to the cafeteria,” you say, hiding the pain in your voice as best you can. You pick up the daisy pot and run out of the room. 

“Mirabelle - "

You hear Housemaiden Traveler’s voice behind you, but who cares! You need to be out of here as fast as possible, and, and - 

“Mirabelle?”

You stop just in time. The gardening teacher opens the door just before you can crash into it. Clumsy, inattentive Mirabelle. 

“Oh! Your daisy looks a lot better.” Your teacher smiles down at the pot. “Or - well, the old one doesn’t. But it looks like one of the seeds sprouted up late!”

Huh? 

You look down at the pot. It’s the same, shriveled up daisy as before, but… there’s a healthy little leaf right at the center of it. Bright, hydrated, almost cartoonishly perfect. When did that… 

That wasn’t there before.

“We should repot that right now, the old daisy’s likely got root rot and you don’t want the new growth infected.” The gardening teacher gestures you back into the classroom. “We’ll use a slightly smaller pot, how about that? It’s easier for something this little to survive in a plug instead of a big old pot.”

You can’t take your eyes off the leaf.

That wasn’t a prank?

Next, you snap your gaze over to Housemaiden Traveler. He stays seated at the gardening bench, watching their little jar of moss wistfully as you’re walked through repotting your new seedling. It’s nerve-wracking to cut away the old roots and leaves to pull up the newly-formed leaf bundle, but you manage to do it. You’re praised for your after-hours studying and promised a good grade for your final.

When you’re all done, Housemaiden Traveler follows you out of the classroom. Both of you look silly, with your tiny little pot with a plug of soil shoved inside and their big jar. You take a few steps with him down the hall before you work up the courage to say anything.

“… I’m sorry.” You look down at your daisy, impossibly alive, and sigh. “I thought you were messing with me.”

“Well, me too.” They sputter. “Being sorry, I mean. I didn’t think that would work. I was kind of messing with you.”

“B-but it worked!” You hold up the pot to show Housemaiden Traveler. “How did that work? It was practically a miracle, this was dead dead, and - "

“You said it wasn’t dead,” he accuses, sing-song.

“I was trying to be optimistic!” You clutch the pot to your chest. “That wasn’t just a wish, though, that was… it felt like Craft.”

“Oh, that’s ‘cause it was.”

“WHAT?”

Traveler shushes you. “It’s called Wish Craft.”

Wish Craft… that doesn’t sound like a subset of any crafts you know. “I’ve never heard of that!”

“Vaugarde doesn’t do a lot of it anymore.” Traveler walks ahead of you, as if this is the end of the conversation, but oh, no! You’re not letting them get out of this!

You scurry ahead to keep up with them. “Did you learn it where you’re from?”

“Sort of.”  

“And that is…?” You’re curious where they got their accent.

Traveler looks up and down the hallway, hesitant. It should be an easy answer, right? Why is he treating this like some kind of conspiracy?

“Let’s leave it at Wish Craft exists for now,” he says, voice low, “I learned it from the Univers.”

“Who’s that?”

“Not who, what.”   

“Okay, fine.” You huff. “What’s the Univers?”

“How do I explain this…” Traveler walks past one of the Change tapestries on the wall and nods their head towards it. “You know how the circles represent being a part of something bigger?”

You nod, curious.

“The Univers is that something.” He gets lost in explaining it to you, you get lost having it explained. Hearing it makes your head hurt, a little, but you trudge through. “It’s where espace is, and the planètes, and the étoiles. Up past the ciel.”

… Huh?

Traveler laughs nervously. “Or, you can forget about it?”

“No! No, it seems important to you…” You shouldn’t zone out because you don’t understand! That’s not nice to them, and you won’t learn a thing that way. “I just don’t get it. But I will! You can keep explaining!”

“You won’t get it, though.”

“I don’t think you get to decide that for me.” You rush up in front of them and stop them from moving any farther down the hall. “You’re not going to dangle something this mysterious in front of my face without me thinking it’s cool.”

“Just because it’s cool doesn’t mean - "

You flare out your nose and straighten your back. Stare him down, Mirabelle. They’ll crack one day. You will know the cool weird Craft mysteries!

Traveler shrinks their chin into their robes. “… Do you really want to hear more?”

You put on your friendliest smile. “I like learning new things!”

There’s no answer for a minute. Traveler’s standing there, conflicted. You don’t know if it’s because of a lack of trust in you - sure, you two aren’t super close, but he looks like he’s getting eaten from the inside out, not being able to talk about this! Someone has to reach out, don’t they? Everyone in the House is so nice to you, the least you can do is pay that kindness forward.

“… Alright.” Traveler nods, finally coming to a decision. They heft their terrarium up in their arms. “Let me get this next to its window and I’ll show you.”

You’re instructed to wait by the big door with the diamond thingy on it while he puts the jar back in its normal spot. This room is… weirdly imposing. Was this always here? There’s an openphrase lock hanging off of it, and it’s at the end of a big, impressive hallway. 

You… feel like you’re not supposed to be here. 

There’s something about this door that feels out of place. Is it the big diamond on the front? The text you can’t read sitting above it? There’s just something so other about it. Not even in a bad way, but… it’s spooky! 

Is this how people die in horror novels? Letting themselves be lead to an obvious trap?

… Now that you’re thinking about it, why are you standing here? 

Ugh. Hold on. You know why you’re here. Don’t let yourself forget…! 

You’re talking to Traveler, and he’s going to show you something in this room.

You’re talking to Traveler, and they’re going to show you something in this room. 

You’re talking to ★‧₊, and he’s going to show you something in this room. 

★‧₊ has been your friend since -

Since - 

Since the festivals, when you were little. 

Right?

…

Right, because, you’d sit on that little log, moping to yourself, and somebody always came to talk to you. Checked in on you, because you were such a little raincloud during those. And it was the same person every time, wasn’t it? You didn’t know them, ever. The first time, they didn’t know Vaugardian. The second time, they choked trying to talk to you. The third time, they ran. And the fourth time, you learned that they…

… No, you met them before the festivals, didn’t you?

Once.

Briefly.

Didn’t you?

You breathe in, and out, just like they do. You lean on the wall and let yourself fall to the floor with a thunk. Try to remember something. Anything.

★‧₊ knows something about Wish Craft, and the Univers, and wants to show it to you. 

★‧₊.

You know how to say that, don’t you? There’s a Vaugardian word for it. 

That’s S-

You hear footsteps running around the corner. “Mirabelle?”

… Oh, it’s Housemaiden Traveler! You wonder what they’re doing here. 

Actually, you wonder what you’re doing here, too. Why are you sitting on the floor? Your little daisy is in your hands, alive, in a new pot. You must have come from the… gardening class? Then why would you be here? On the third floor? Did you get lost trying to find your room?

“Sorry, I, uh, forgot - " He takes a breath in, and a breath out. “I forgot. That. I shouldn’t leave you alone like that. Do you still want to learn about the ciel?”

The… ciel. What’s that?

Housemaiden Traveler is looking at you like they’re expecting you to decline and walk away politely. But they’re talking like you asked to be here, so it would be really rude if you walked out! You must have asked what the ciel was at some point, right?

The ciel, the ciel…

Oh! 

“Right! I asked you about the ciel during the éclipse, didn't I?”

“… Yes.” Their eyes threaten to pop out of their skull. He smiles big, wide, teetering on manic. “Yeah! You did, and - and I know about the ciel because…?”

“Because it’s your job?” Oh, they must be so forgetful! Why else would they ask you about their job?

“Okay. Okay! Cover your ears, I don’t want - " He rushes up to the openphrase lock and holds it in their palm. “I don’t really want this undoing all of that, so - "

You don’t know what they’re talking about, but you cover your ears anyway. He could have just said that he doesn’t want you to know the openphrase, why are they being so mysterious?

There’s not a good opportunity to ask, because the door opens and Housemaiden Traveler practically pushes you inside. 

For how large the door was, the room isn’t anything spectacular. It’s smaller than a lot of the single dorm rooms, even! There’s a big, brass sculpture sitting in the middle, and a shelf of books, some tables, equipment, barrels full of paper… and a cot hanging off one of the walls, placed there haphazardly, like it’s not supposed to be there.

“I’ve never been in here!”

“It’s… my room.” Housemaiden Traveler lets the door close behind them, and runs to light the room - oh, dear, there aren’t even any windows in here! “I mean, before it was just storage for all of this old equipment, but by the time I got here it was just cobwebs. Had to put a lock on it so nobody would come throw everything out.”

Um. Why is Housemaiden Traveler living in an old storage room? “Who would think to clear this out if you were living here?”

“Don’t worry about that.” As if embarrassed by their own living situation, Housemaiden Traveler starts tidying up right in front of you. Or, at least, trying. Most of it is shoving little bits and bobs into drawers. 

Now that you think about it… it’s kind of weird that they wanted to teach you about the ciel and brought you to their room, isn’t it? Why not the library? Or outside? Sure, there’s equipment in here, but none of this has to do with the ciel, does it? 

… Oh no.

This is an enclosed room. With a lock. Housemaiden Traveler does not have a roommate. Is this -

“Um, Housemaiden Traveler.” You shake your head, face feeling hot. “I don’t feel that way about you!”

“… What?”

You haven’t been randomly hit on in a long time, but usually people who do it… know they’re doing it. So. Oh. Maybe this isn’t it. Is that self-centered of you, to think that’s what it was?

“Oh. It’s not that.” You breathe a sigh of relief. “I thought this was one of those things where a creepy person brings you to their room to ‘study’ but they’re LYING, which is awful because what if someone actually wanted to study, or - "

“Mirabelle.” He snorts, finally understanding the problem. “You’re not my type.”

“Oh. Good!” But… wait. They have a type? You’ve never talked to someone about their type before - if you ask Housemaiden Traveler what their type is, maybe you can figure out what YOURS is? “What is your type?”

“Géantes gazeuses,” they say, fondly, “I think they’re neat.”

“Um.”

“… I know you meant people.” Housemaiden Traveler slumps over, melancholic. “But I don’t have one for them. I’m not around people often enough.”

You get the sense that there’s some tragic backstory they’re alluding to, but you also get the sense this isn’t the best time to bring it up.

“Anyway. Lesson.” Housemaiden Traveler walks to the center of the room. He touches the big, brass sculpture. “Do you know what this is?” 

“It’s brass,” you say, knowing it’s the wrong answer.

Housemaiden Traveler laughs, shaking their head. “It’s an orrery. It’s a model of your système solaire.”

The… what?

“We live here,” he says, pointing to one of the little brass balls. “In Vaugardian, you call it Terre.”

“But that’s a ball.” You lean forward and poke it yourself, for good measure. “The ground is flat.”

“It’s just very, very big. Or maybe we’re small. I’m definitely smaller than I used to be.” Housemaiden Traveler stutters. You don’t get a chance to ask what they mean before they move on. “You can look at it whatever way you want. It doesn’t matter.”

“But wouldn’t we all fall off of a big ball?”

“No! Everything that’s really big in the Univers - well, actually, everything has it, but the big masses have it the most…” They squint at the… orrery. He’s juggling how much he can explain to someone who doesn’t know the first thing about what they’re talking about, you can tell. “Pesanteur keeps us on the ground. It’s a force that makes things want to stay together.”

“Is it like magnets?”

“Maybe?” Housemaiden Traveler’s face scrunches up even more. “I don’t know how magnets work. I just know about espace.”

“That’s okay!” Walk it back, Mirabelle! “How does pesanteur work?”

“Well, uh. Everything with mass has a pull on it?” You want to ask what mass is, but figure to stay quiet for now. “Really big things like the Terre can keep a lot of people close to it. Even bigger things, like the soleil, can keep entire planètes close. That’s called an orbite.”

“And the soleil…?”

They point to the giant orb in the middle. “You see this huge ball in the middle? That’s the soleil.”

That’s familiar. “I think I’ve heard of that before.”

“It’s what’s up in the ciel during the day.” Housemaiden Traveler beams, proud of you for knowing about something they’re talking about. “It’s actually there all the time, but…”

Housemaiden Traveler moves the orrery a little, and Terre circles in place.

“Vaugarde is probably around here,” he says, pointing a little below the halfway mark of Terre, and circling it around, “so what do you think happens when Terre rotates like this?”

“Oh, if it’s really big… we probably can’t see the soleil when we’re turned away from it?”

“We can’t! It’s day when we’re facing the soleil. Most times at night, the lune is visible, and we can also see étoiles.”

You’ve heard that word before, too! “What’s an étoile?”

“Hmm…” Housemaiden Traveler circles around the orrery, trying to come up with a way to explain. “So, these? The other spheres that look like Terre? They’re planètes. And they all rotate around the soleil, in a circle. An orbite, from before.”

You nod. It’s complicated, but you’re getting a hold of it, now.

“Very far away, there are other système solaires.” Even though you’re inside, Housemaiden Traveler points up to the ceiling, towards the ciel. “Étoiles are soleils from far away, each with their own planètes.”

“What!” That’s so cool!

Housemaiden Traveler walks over to one of the barrels stuffed with paper and rolls out one on the floor for you. “This is an étoile chart. If you look at the ciel at night, you should be able to see some of these.”

You kneel over to take a look. The paper is lightless, with darkless dots and text peppered all over. Housemaiden Traveler hands you another chart, and you lay that one flat, too. You start to pull out papers yourself, and Housemaiden Traveler goes to sit in his cot while you study.

One of the older, more worn charts catches your eye. Unlike some of the others, which are newer and well-preserved, this one is torn and frayed at the edges, with uneven shades all over where people have touched without gloves. Your finger goes to one extremely worn-out spot in the chart. The paper is so thin there, eroded by touch. Even the text next to it has been rubbed out! You can see light through the spot when you hold it up, and - well, it’s hard to see with the lightless paper, but there’s some liquid stains all around it. No drink rings, but…

… This must be a sentimental piece. You roll it back up and place it carefully back into the barrel.

You put your eyes back on the orrery. “Um, so… the étoiles have names, but what about the planètes?”

Traveler nods. “They do, too."

“There were so many étoiles on that paper, though…!”

“Most people only know the planètes around your soleil.” He walks up to the orrery and gestures you to join them. “Here, I can go through them with you, if you want?”

You nod, and listen to them as they go through every one. He sounds very gentle and kind when teaching you about these… planètes. There’s a reverence for these words, obvious even if you don’t understand as much as they seem to. You feel like Traveler is showing you something very close to their heart. Their explanation is quiet, intimate, like every planète they name is a parent or sibling.

When they’re done, there’s a pause. He considers telling you something else, but steps back. You want to ask them more, you want to pull them out of their shell, but he’s already done a great deal of that today. It’s okay if you’ve run out of Traveler’s social energy. They don’t seem to have a lot of it. 

Until they come out of their silence, volunteering more information. “So. I don’t actually follow the Change God?”

“WHAT?”

 Traveler hmphs. “It’s not a big deal! You didn’t believe in them when you first got here either, didn’t you?”

That’s… true. But how do they know that?

“I know everything,” he adds, with a sly smile.

CAN THEY READ YOUR MIND????

“No, I can’t read your mind.” He laughs. “Your thoughts are just all over your face.”

“Well - weird psychic powers aside…” Their disbelief in the Change God isn’t for lack of interest in religion, you don’t think. There’s something blocking them from fully believing in Change, unlike you, who just doesn’t because you’re… you. “It’s different for you, isn’t it? I… just had to grow to learn about Change, you seem like… like all this stuff about the ciel is part of a different religion entirely.”

“I can believe in more than one thing.”  

“But you said you don’t follow them - "

“They probably exist?” Traveler looks up at the ceiling, contemplating. “It’d be weird if an entire country worships them and they ended up not existing in some way, right? But just because I think they’re around doesn’t mean I pray to them.”

That’s how you were when you first got to the House. You’re getting better at remembering to pray now, but it’s definitely a habit to cultivate and not something natural. You… hadn’t considered there were other options for a deity. They existed, sure, in the back of your mind! But Vaugarde is all about Change, Change, Change. You’ve never been anywhere else, haven’t seen other perspectives in real life other than in books or from the occasional tourist! You were just getting comfortable, here, and now someone’s walked in with a different belief, and you’re already questioning being in the House again? What is wrong with you!!

But! But. Traveler is such a sad person. Maybe their religion brings them grief, too? Maybe that’s just how believing in something bigger than yourself is supposed to go. 

“So you follow… " You reach back into your memory for that thing they spoke about. It sounded weird at the time, but it feels right to say here. “The Univers?”

“I used to.” Even just bringing it up makes Traveler slump over. “It’s complicated.”

"Well… we could talk about it?” You don’t want to make him sad, but… you could both feel better if you hashed this out. Right? “Complicated faith to complicated faith?”

You have to stare at Traveler for a few minutes before it sinks in for them that you’re truly offering. And then he takes another minute to consider whether they’re going to take you up on it. 

“… I don’t know if I care about it the same way I used to,” they finally admit, “but I miss some things about it.”

“Like what?”

“Part of the ‘belief,’” he explains, wistfully, “is that you make an orbite.”

That sounds different than what they were talking about before, but you don't dare ask - they’re about to explain, and you’re terrified of knocking them off their own conversational balance.

“It’s like a family. That’s the closest thing I can think of.” Traveler reaches out to the orrery and thumbs at one of the planètes. “And when I left, I had to leave my orbite behind.”

“Can I ask why you left?” 

“… I didn’t do it on my own.” All of a sudden, he can’t stand to look at you. “I was grounded.”

“Like when your parents punish you?” You didn't know Traveler had parents!

Well. Everyone does, even if they don't speak to them or know them. But it just feels off thinking about Traveler having any.

“Close enough.” Noticing your confusion, they add, “i-it’s also like. Falling? I think? Is a better word in Vaugardian.”

That’s familiar… you wonder if there’s something lost in this translation. “Is it like, um, they call it sinning in some countries?”

“That might be closer…” 

“Why would the, um, the Univers, think you did something bad?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t think anything.” The fact that there isn’t a reason obviously eats at Traveler. “It just is.”

“Is this why you don’t talk to the other Housemaidens that much?” You vaguely remember them hiding from the rest of the House, but you can’t put your finger on when that happened. “Because you follow the Univers?”

“What? No.” He looks like he’ll leave it at that, for a second. And you’re fine if that’s all they say. But they rummage up the resolve to keep going. “I just… the House took something from me.”

“Your orbite?”

He shakes his head. “After that.”

The House took something? Change isn’t a greedy belief, it doesn’t require a lot from anybody and it doesn’t force anyone into it. You can’t think of a single thing the House would want to steal from somebody. And… if they did take something from Traveler, why are they still here? They could leave, couldn’t they? If you were stolen from, you wouldn’t want to work for the people who harmed you.

“… What did they take?” you ask, feeling your own blood simmer under your skin in righteous anger.

They’re not obligated to answer, of course. But you need to know. You need to know how serious this is, if you can run into someone’s office and take it back for them. Maybe Traveler would leave, if you did - it’s not like this room is built for them, it doesn’t look particularly comfortable to sleep in that cot. And you’d be sad, if they left. You don’t know why. But you would.

Still, you ask. Still, you want to help.

“My sponsor.”

Their sponsor.

Their sponsor? Like for a wish?

You bite down all of your questions like what’s that and who’s that and why’s that important. Because it doesn’t matter, does it? A person was stolen from Traveler and they’re sad about it. That’s worse than the House stealing an item. 

It… reminds you, slightly, of when you used to resent your old friends for Changing without you. You wonder if the House took a person from Traveler by having them Change? And that would be selfish of him, it would be cruel, but… you’d understand. It’s the same dark, nasty thoughts you’ve had all your life. You'd have something in common with them.

But you don’t have time to project onto him. Instead, you just ask, “could you ever get them back?”

Traveler looks at you.

They’re always hiding what they really feel. You know this. You don’t know why, but it’s a fact you hold deep in your heart. There’s some deep instinct in you to assume they’re hiding something. But… right now, he’s not trying so hard. There’s no act. He’s just watching you, barely holding back a sob, with no idea how to respond.

They’re hoping you can answer for them.

But there’s no way you’d be able to.

“… I don’t know,” Traveler answers, fearful to admit the obvious.

That they don’t think they’ll ever get their ‘sponsor’ back.

You have to go to the Favor Tree.

You don’t know why. Your feet just take you there. 

It’s… nostalgic, to come back to Dormont. You only come during festivals now, or when you’re signed up for a community outreach program. It’s right next door to the House, but it feels… far away. Like you’re not supposed to be here. It’s your hometown, but it’s not your home anymore. You’ve only been away for a year, but it’s so distant, now.

People you grew up with wave at you as you pass, but you keep walking. You don’t want to get caught up in conversation and forget what you’re doing.

What are you doing?

You’ll know when you get there.

Hopefully. 

Have faith in yourself. When you’re standing in front of the Favor Tree, you’ll remember. Maybe. 

It’s a big tree, but you don’t dare to tilt your head up to look at the top of it. You’ll forget. Instead, you look at its base. The roots make a perfect seat-shaped indentation underneath. You consider getting distracted and sitting under there for a little rest, but you resist. You’re here for a reason. You just don’t know why yet. 

You don’t know a lot of things, lately.

…

You’re sitting on the root of the Favor Tree. Maybe if you collect yourself under here for a bit, you’ll get it. Now that there’s cover above your head, you feel safe to look up. All you see is a canopy of leaves, and soft light filtering through. Isn’t it night? There shouldn’t be any light outside, you’re far past anywhere that someone would light a lantern. 

There’s an empty spot on the roots across from you. This would be a nice space to hang out with a friend. You kick your legs out, taking a deep breath in and out. It feels… right. 

A breath in,

And a breath out.

…

You were going to make a wish!

Quickly, before you forget, you scramble out from under the tree. You open your arms to clap, but that’s… wrong, isn’t it? That’s not how you wish. If you just clap out into nothing, where will your wish know where to go?

Leaf, whisper, kiss, send off.

The kiss isn’t needed, someone told you, but you’ll do it anyway!!! 

Oh, wait, but you also needed… what was it? A sponsor? There’s nobody around… but maybe that’s fine? Maybe the Favor Tree can be your sponsor. It has to be something from… something from… !

“I wish I could remember,” you say before you’re done plucking the leaf off the tree. 

Remember what? You don’t know. That’s what the wish is for. 

“I wish I could remember,” you whisper into the leaf, holding it close to your mouth, like it’s a secret between you and the leaf.

You’re feeling dizzy. Your fever crawls up your shoulders, traveling to your forehead like always.

“I wish I could rememb - ”

Your throat bubbles, stopping you from completing the wish. A harsh, strange shade explodes at the back of your eyes. You cough, and the shade drips out of your mouth and onto your arm. It falls down your arm in drips, like blood, and hits the grass below you. 

“I wish I could remember,” you finally finish, without pain this time. You sputter that strange shade onto the leaf as you kiss it weakly, and your waning grip on it gives out. Was that enough? Did you do it? 

The leaf flutters into the air and flies away. 

The holes in your brain stay open, whistling, empty. The shade disappears into - oh, no, were you bleeding? That’s the shade of blood. You wipe off your mouth, and the blood keeps flowing. Your throat is raw, so you press a Healing Craft into your neck. It doesn’t help. Your leaf flies on the wind out of sight, and you wonder if it will get to its destination. Even as you stand there, waiting, nothing new comes into your memory.

Maybe wishes don’t work for you, either.

You lay down in the grass, exhausted. 

It’s night. No clouds. There are little lights up in the ciel. Étoiles. You don’t know if you’ve ever noticed them before. At least, not like this. They twinkle and shine down at you, like a smile. Your back settles into the terre underneath you. It’s… comforting, isn’t it? That you’re the exact distance away from the soleil for you to live here. And… oh! He was right! The lune is out, a big circle amongst all of the étoiles. It’s not a blinding, smooth shape. As you look at it, you notice how it’s speckled and dotted. It almost looks like some kind of animal is dancing on it. A rabbit, maybe? With the ears?

It’s… nice, to watch the ciel like this.

Did you do this before?

This doesn’t feel like the first time you’ve done this. And it’s definitely not going to be your last, now that you can see how pretty it is.

You hear a gasp and a shout from far away, and realize you’re still bleeding. 

This… probably isn’t the best look, is it?

Your field of vision narrows to the étoiles above. You’d like to keep them in your mind for a little longer. At least until the voices and shouts far away get close enough to carry you off back where you’re supposed to be. 

Chapter Text

You stay on the ground, eyes fixated on the divot in the earth in front of you.

One scoot back. Two scoots. Your dress is getting muddy, you know, and your mother will be so mad, but she wasn’t the one almost hit by a falling star! 

It’s still there, in the middle of the crater. Smoke’s rolling off of it. A ball of pure light, spiked, the size of a big dye cauldron. 

There’s something you’re supposed to do when a star falls, you think, vaguely. Or else they go supernova and - and then awful, awful things start to happen! Right? You heard something like that happened in Corbeaux, a long time ago.

But... you can't remember what you're supposed to do. It's something about, what was it, a sponsor? Not like you know what that is. You didn't know you had to brush up on star anatomy for tonight!! You’ve only seen a fallen star a couple times in your entire life, and they’ve been travelers. You haven’t seen any right as they reach the ground! This is a lot more special. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! 

Really, it's too special for something like this to happen to you, ha...

You walk up to the ball. The closer you get, the more you can see through it. It’s like frosted glass, or candling an egg, where you can see the faint outline of… someone in there. 

You might not know the perfect thing to do, but it’s obvious you need to get them out of there!

Thankfully, the solution comes up easily. You reach forward, past a couple of the spikes, and press both your hands onto the - wait, hm, maybe it would be better if you crafted this open?

It’s just a little bit of piercing craft, but you make a tiny incision in the orb, and - 

“I’m sorry,” you whine through your pounding headache.

“This is the third time this week they’ve called me in here, you know.” Claude jostles your infirmary bed, the headboard squeaking in protest. “I’m gonna need more than a sorry!”

“What Claude means, is…” Toille pushes Claude out of the seat next to your bed and presses some Healing Craft into your forehead. “We’re worried about you! You keep leaving to visit Dormont, and then someone from the village has to drag you all the way back here!”

“And in the middle of the night, too.” Claude, kicked out of her seat, has opted to pace around the infirmary instead. “Most of us are sleeping, you know!”

“For your information, I'm in here for craft exhaustion, not for sneaking out to Dormont,” you say, pouting. You're... not sure why you're exhausted on craft, but that's what the doctor said! "And you wake me up in the middle of the night all the time!"

“Experiments, Mirabelle!” Claude rushes up next to your bed and pokes at your forehead. Each fingerprint on your hairline feels like a searing hot brand. “I! Have!! Principals!!!”

“Are you stressed about something?” Toille pulls Claude’s hand away from your face. “You have so many bright hairs, now…”

“All I’m doing is looking at étoiles.” You rub at the raw spot on your head. “They’re pretty, it’s not stressful.”

“What’s that?” Toille asks, concerned.

You smile as you explain. “Oh, they’re like the soleil but far away!”

Toille’s head turns to the side. “What’s the… soleil?”

Claude grimaces. “It’s… big, I think?”

“It’s why there’s light in the daytime!” Nobody ever knows what you’re talking about when you give them espace facts, but you like to say them anyway! “And when the Terre rotates around, it becomes night when we’re facing away from the soleil.”

“Wow, where’d you learn all of that?” Housemaiden Traveler asks as they sit up, too cheeky for someone laid up in the infirmary bed next to yours.

You grimace at them. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

He can’t be too injured, with the sleepy little grin he’s wearing. “Well, someone came in and put the noisiest guests in the bed next to mine.”

“Why are you here?” Claude asks, suspicious.

“Obviously I’m infirmed.” They waggle their arm in the air, showing a bunch of skinpricks. “Allergic reaction.”

That’s strange. You knew they were your infirmary buddy for the night, but you didn’t think to ask why they were here. “They have you in bed for an allergy test?”

“Um.” Housemaiden Traveler rubs at their neck. “My throat was closed up yesterday.”

“Oh.” So they’re just figuring out if he’s allergic to anything else, now. As a precaution.

“I didn’t know you could be allergic to anything, given…” Claude gestures at Housemaiden Traveler, and they nod. Whatever she’s talking about, she’s letting it go unsaid.

“I didn’t either!” 

Okay, now you’re curious. “What are you allergic to?”

“Pineapple.” He shrugs. “Probably good to know?”

Ah, didn’t Beatrice have one of those fruit arrangement things for her birthday? You don’t remember Housemaiden Traveler being there, but… they probably were. It was a huge party! Or someone saved a piece for them. It sounds like something you’d do, actually. But you sure didn’t, phew! You could see yourself devastated with guilt over sending Housemaiden Traveler to the infirmary. 

At least they're okay. He doesn’t look too bad off, now. They’re in good spirits, but much more exhausted than normal. It’s really hard to bounce back from an anaphylactic reaction, even with Craft! If nobody can catch it in time, it can be really dangerous. You need to notice the signs immediately. Once, you took a first aid class, so you know! You could have kept them stable until the infirmary, if you had been the one there when he had the reaction. It would be an exhausting amount of craft, though. You're impressed with whoever ended up getting them in here on time! They're probably just as injured as he is!

It's good somebody was there to help. Even if you don’t know Housemaiden Traveler very well - you’ve only spoken a couple times - you know you’d be devastated if you heard they were hurt. You’d feel the same way about anyone else in the House, of course! But something about Housemaiden Traveler just seems… frail? 

Like there’s something incomplete. Ready to shatter at a moment’s notice. And they’re not, they’ve got all their limbs, facial features all in the right place - even if they didn’t, you wouldn’t have that impression of them. You know plenty of people without an arm or a leg, people with big scars on their faces, people who can’t walk or talk like you, and that’s never thrown you off! It’s normal. But Housemaiden Traveler is missing some invisible something, you can feel it, and not in a normal way. In a weird way. 

That doesn’t feel very kind of you, though, so you don’t ask and you don’t vocalize it.

What a weird thing to think about somebody. 

You’re not a very good friend.

Eventually, visiting hours end and Claude and Toille leave to go get a night’s sleep without you. Housemaiden Traveler stays in the bed next to yours. They’re out of danger, but the House’s doctor looked at a few numbers on his chart and asked him to stay overnight again.

He side-eyed you before agreeing. 

And now you’re alone. The doctor leaves to sleep, and there’s not enough of an emergency with either you or Housemaiden Traveler to justify calling another doctor or nurse to watch over you the whole night. You do have a little crafted button in case anything awful happens, but otherwise you’re completely unsupervised.

“What if we just pushed the button for fun?” Housemaiden Traveler asks, mischievous.

“No!” You pull the button closer to your bed. “I don’t want to wake anyone up.”

“So how bad does it have to get before you push it?”

“Um.” You think. “If one of us was dying?”

“Mirabelle,” they chide. 

“I know some Healing Craft!” You puff out your cheeks. “I could tide us over until morning.”

They laugh until they start coughing. Oh, no! You should… um. Be less entertaining.

… But also you like bantering with Housemaiden Traveler. “Fine! How bad would it have to get for you to push it?”

They stick out their tongue. “If I was bored.”

“Housemaiden Traveler!” 

“Okay, okay!” They turn their face away from you, laughing so hard you’re worried you’re going to need to push the button. He forces himself to sober up before answering. “I’d push it if you were dying.”

“But what about if you were dying?”

He grins. “Don’t you know Healing Craft?”

“Pfft - Housemaiden Traveler!” 

You laugh through your headache, which only gets worse the more you sit here. It’ll go away if you sleep, probably, but… you don’t want to yet. If you sleep, you’ll just… wake up not knowing Traveler again. And you’re having a good time, right now. You let your eyes wander from them, to the end of your bed. Your grasp on their memory isn’t so tenuous that you’ll forget if you turn away for a moment. 

“Um. Traveler.”

“Oh no, I’m getting untitled,” he says, and it sounds like it should be a lighthearted tease, but you know they’ve got their full attention on you. “Am I in trouble?”

“No.” You scrunch up the thin infirmary blankets in your hands. “Do you have a real name?”

“Not anymore.”

“What about - " You probably shouldn’t say it out loud. Your headache’s already bad. “What about the one I can’t say?”

It’s too dark - the doctor left you here to sleep, after all - so you can’t see the details of their expression. But the silence stretches on enough that you can tell it’s not a question he likes. You wonder if you should have kept your mouth shut. Traveler is injured, you’re making it worse.

“… It’s not me anymore,” he finally admits, “I don’t think of it as mine.”

Even though you’re certain they can’t see you, you nod. The concept of a name that’s so far removed from you that it might as well not exist - it’s not something you could ever understand more intimately than reading it as a footnote in a textbook. Mirabelle is a name you want to keep forever, even if you know you won't be able to as a Housemaiden. But you can still conceptualize the feeling. You study it in class all the time. Most people you know have a relationship with that with at least one of their names. It's why there's diaries in the library, why there's multiple lines for multiple names in every class roster.

“Do you want a new name?”

More silence.

This time, you can hear an unsteady breath beside you. Like when someone’s offered the last cookie on the plate but doesn’t want to be rude. 

“I’m fine.”

Before you decide whether you’re going to pursue that very obvious, very glaring lie, you hear the infirmary door click open. You put your arm over your face so that the light peeking through the door doesn’t blind you. At some point, you need to adjust. You look up, and see a familiar silhouette in the doorframe. 

“Mirabelle! Traveler!” Euphrasie closes the door behind her and bounces in between both of your beds, kneeling over to smile at you. “You both look like two peas in a pod, with the matching infirmary beds and everything!”

Traveler puts a pillow over his head and grumbles. 

Euphrasie shakes their bedframe. “Can’t run like this!”

“I could if I really wanted to.”

Weirdly, Euphrasie looks towards you. “But you don’t, right?”

“… No.”

“Gotcha!” 

“Euphrasie?” You wipe at your eyes, adjusting back down to having less light. “It’s not visiting hours, what are you - "

Even in the dark, you can see her bright smile. “Oh, there was a little emergency.”

“UM?”

“Neither of you are in danger,” Euphrasie’s bubbly act tears down as she frowns at Traveler. “But. He’s trying to talk to you again.”

“UGH - " They pull the pillow over their face again and scream into it. With a burst of energy they didn’t seem to have before, they lean up to Euphrasie, pleading. “Are you serious? Can’t you, I don’t know, ban him from the infirmary?”

“Nobody’s guarding the door right now.” Euphrasie gestures towards the closed door. “I just walked right in!”

“You could kick him out, then?”

“Oh, um.” She grimaces so widely you can see it in the static dark of the unlit room. “I’m trying not to get in trouble with our temporary Head Housemaiden right now.”

“Throw me under the wagon again, why don’t you.”

“I’m… sorry.” For all that Traveler looked like he was joking, Euphrasie sounds genuinely apologetic. Usually she’s much better at playing into comedic bits. 

“Where is he?”

“How am I supposed to know that?” Euphrasie’s still glum, disappointed in herself. You don’t think you’ve ever heard her this lethargic before. “You’re lucky I know who he even is right now.”

“Um.” You feel weird interjecting - but if you don’t, you might accidentally get one of them in trouble. “What’s… happening?”

“I ran to your room a few times to hide from him.” Traveler gestures around their hair. It’s hard for you to see what they’re trying to describe in the dark. “Guy with long, darkless hair? Big, imposing, depressing?”

Doesn’t ring a bell.

“Well, um…” Euphrasie pats you on the shoulder and walks towards the door. You catch a glimpse of her face again in the light as she leaves. She’s never been this… serious. “Don’t hurt yourself hiding from him, Traveler.”

He huffs at her, and then the door’s closed and the light’s gone. Immediately, Traveler gets out of their bed.

“Can I hide under your bed?”

“Traveler, what - " You don’t get to answer properly, because they’re already under there. “Traveler!”

It’s weird, he’s digging around under the paperthin infirmary mattress, head banging on the underside of the bedsprings. You do your best to move around so that they don’t hit their head on you, but they’re so frantic under there that you can’t figure out where they’re going.

You hear a weak little whine from under there. “Stop - moving, you’re gonna crush my head!”

“Stop being under my bed!!!” You lean over the side and let your torso dip off the bed. Your head’s upside down as you look at them, blood pooling to your forehead, which is not helping your headache. Your arms ache from holding your own weight. “Traveler, you said you wouldn’t hide from the other Housemaidens anymore.”

It’s too dark to see their expression, but you’re pretty sure he’s pouting at you. “Firstly, I lied, secondly, he’s not a Housemaiden.”

For now, you choose to politely ignore their lie. “What, so he’s just a guy?”

“He’s just a guy!” 

“Is he, like, creepy?” You slip off the bed a little as you lean in. “Should I slap him?”

“I’d love to see you try,” he says, and then immediately adds, “don’t. I was joking. He’ll make your headache worse.”

You’ll take a worse headache if it means protecting Traveler. You brace your hands on the floor and try to get back up. But you’re tired and your head’s pounding and now you feel like you’re about to fall down. You've never been craft exhausted before, you didn't know it would be like this!

“Why are you flopping around like a fish, now?” they ask, unimpressed.

“I’m about to fall!”

With a hefty, overdramatic sigh, Traveler climbs out from under the bed and crouches to get a hold of your arms. “Going up, or going down?”

You’ll definitely fall flat on your face if you go down. “Up, if we can?”

Traveler nods and helps push you up. You swallow your apologies - no, they don’t like to be touched, but you really don’t want to bring too much attention to their touch aversion. It's rude to call them out for something they can't control!

Instead, you’ll thank him. “Thank you, Traveler.”

He nods, and kneels back down to hide under your bed again, but then you hear the door latch open.

Oh, there’s another guest! This time, it’s the temporary Head Housemaiden’s… retainer? Bodyguard. That one guy. You don’t pay him a lot of attention most days. There’s something about him that’s… not right. Maybe it’s the armor, maybe it’s the hair that brushes the floor, maybe it’s the way he refuses to talk to anybody except for Euphrasie and Traveler for more than a few minutes.

Traveler lets out a string of curses in a language you don’t know. Resigned to their fate, they crawl back into bed. Oh, no - he must be really, really bad off if they’re not trying to run!

As usual, the bodyguard barely acknowledges you. He pulls up a chair and sits next to Traveler’s bed, facing away from you. 

“★‧₊,” he says, more of a statement than a greeting.

“Don’t call me that.” Traveler pulls the sheets up to their chin, the most hiding they can do in their position. “You’ll hurt her.”

Well - actually, you’re fine right now? It didn’t make your headache worse to hear it.

“Fine. I don’t think we should stoop to using the Vaugardian words for ourselves, but - "

“They call me Traveler here.” Traveler folds his arms. “You could just say that instead.”

“Spica.” The bodyguard leans forward, too close to Traveler’s personal space. Hey, um, did he just completely ignore Traveler's preferred name? “Vaugarde has been so welcoming to us, haven’t they been?”

“This again,” he says, exasperated. 

“Too welcoming, don’t you think?” The bodyguard lets out a gravely huff. “Ka Bue has outlawed wishing on grounds of death. Porteria has made their citizens believe Wish Craft is just a story, a fairy tale.”

“Vaugarde’s the only place that still wishes on étoiles anymore.” They look past the bodyguard, at you. “When they can, at least.”

“And is that not strange, to you?” It’s a leading question, one that doesn’t leave a lot of room for argument. “Every other country respects our heavenly borders. They do all they can to protect our kin from falling, too.”

“Étoiles have to fall somewhere.”

“But Vaugarde, they encourage it.” The bodyguard sniffles. Crocodile tears. “Too casual plucking us out of the Univers, dragging us down into the mud.”

“That’s not - "

“Casual enough to allow at least two étoiles be ripped from their sponsors.” His voice is soft, caring. But there’s no comfort in it. “And those who aren’t? Given human lives, on the scale of decades instead of millennia.”

“So?”

“So. My wish.”

“It won’t do anything.” Traveler’s breath hitches. He thinks it might do something. “The Univers won’t listen to you.”

“It will. An étoile will never fall again in Vaugarde. The étoiles that have already made new orbites here can keep them forever. How is this not - "

“Nobody wants that.”

“More of us want it than they’ll admit.” The fake care in the bodyguard’s voice turns hollow. “I am certain you do, deep down.”

“I don’t have an orbite.”

“Then you should agree with me.” The bodyguard reaches out towards Traveler. “Why don’t you understand?”

As usual, Traveler flinches at the idea of contact. But unlike a reasonable person, the bodyguard doesn’t pick up on the obvious cue. He sits himself right past the edge of Traveler’s comfort zone. You can’t see Traveler’s face from here, but you can hear their breath pick up in fear.

“WE WOULD NOT BE HERE IF THEY LEFT US ALONE.” The bodyguard’s hair pools around Traveler’s bed, all around, until you can’t see any outline of Traveler anymore. “IF THEY JUST SIMPLY - "

Despite the exhaustion, you slam your hand down on the call button and stand out of bed. The bodyguard is facing away from you, and all you give him is a light slap upside the head - no craft put into it, not a lot of weight, not like you could anyway right now - only enough to knock him out of his fight with Traveler. He looks behind him, at you, and stands up. Looming over you.

And then you realize you’ve just slapped this man.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

Wait, stop! What are you doing, Mirabelle? This guy’s come in here threatening Traveler, calling him names that he doesn’t like, and you’re apologizing for standing up for them? Whatever he’s up to, you can’t just roll over and let it happen. You ignore the pounding in your ears, the fever crawling up your head, and take another step forward.

“I’m - not sorry.” You let your arms fall to your sides. “You need to leave.”

“Mirabelle - "

You stand your ground in front of the bodyguard. “He’s sick, they’re not going to be able to heal if you’re in here harassing them.”  

The bodyguard looks down at you. In the low light, all you can see is a scary glint in his eye. His hair sways all around him like fog, like a curtain. Like he’s detaching himself from everyone around him. 

“Tell me.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but it fills the whole room regardless. “Do you know what happens when an étoile falls?”

“M - me?” You know a lot of espace facts, but! You didn’t know an étoile could fall. Where would it even fall? There’s not anything pulling an étoile in any specific direction, nothing with enough pesanteur to draw them in. “N - no?”

“Of course you do not.” The bodyguard tilts his head towards Traveler and gestures your way. “This is the difference between them and us. You should not lower yourself to explain - "

“But I’d learn.”

You keep your eyes trained on the bodyguard. Your forehead sears. It’s painful to talk to him, both because of your killer headache and his attitude. You really want to reach up and slap him again, but you - you’re better than that. Better than him.

“If Traveler wanted to tell me, I’d listen.” You’d listen to anything Traveler said, at this point, with the fading memories of them you hold in your heart. “You - I might not know what you’re talking about, not all the way, but… I know when someone’s upsetting a friend of mine.”

He watches you. Not curious, not angrily. The pinnacle of callous neutrality. You won’t let it throw you off.

“And… I might not know what you’re talking about, I might not understand everything…”  You straighten your back, trying to be as tall and official-looking as possible. “But I think Traveler is right. About your wish.”

“How could you possibly think you know enough to make that judgment? That’s awfully… precocious of you.”

... Aaaaand that’s the end of your faux-heroism. 

It's also the end of the adrenaline taking over your pain. Your knees buckle, and you wobble back into bed. It feels like you've put your face directly onto a hot stove. When you breathe in, it's like someone's digging their fingernails in your lungs. Even if it wasn't dark, you're certain you wouldn't be able to see more than half a meter in front of you.

“Do you see what happens,” the bodyguard says, eyes still trained on you, but voice thrown towards Traveler, “when somebody is foolish enough to stay close enough to a supernova?”

Traveler can’t even look at you.

What happens now?

Do you just wait, sitting here, doing nothing, while Traveler gets berated, harassed, bullied? You can’t let this escalate again, not to the point it was at when the last Head Housemaiden was here. You need to do something, anything! But you can’t. You’re frozen. You don’t know what to do. All you can do is sit here, shocked, scared, tiny, timid, meek, anxious, nervous, panicked, usele -

The door opens again, and the House doctor walks through.

Oh, right! You pushed the button!

Phew, at least you did one thing right!

“Sir!” They run over to your beds and shoo the bodyguard towards the door. “Sir, visiting hours are over. You need to leave.”

“But, I - "

“These two should be asleep!” The doctor grabs their arm and pulls. “Out, out!”

The bodyguard is sturdy, though, and can’t be pushed or pulled by such a wiry little frame as the House doctor’s. He stares at you and Traveler. Mental calculations. Maybe thinking of more ways to antagonize or intimidate you? But, instead, they stand in the doorway. Contemplating.

“My name.” The bodyguard points your way. “You asked for it a few months ago.”

Did you?

“… It’s Regulus.”

You have more questions, but Regulus is thrown out of the infirmary without any further fuss. The doctor stays behind a few extra minutes to make sure you and Traveler aren’t hurt. It’s not a full panel of examinations. You're given medication and orders to sleep immediately, Traveler's given water and a pep talk. You’re done within a few minutes, and then it’s lights out. The door closes again, leaving you alone. 

You’re supposed to sleep, but you need to check on Traveler first.

“Are you alright, Traveler?”

“I’m… fine.” Traveler wobbles as they stand to check on you more thoroughly. “Sorry. That must have given you an awful headache.”

“It wasn’t so bad!” You rub at your head. It’s getting better, as you talk. “When Euphrasie said you didn’t like that guy, I wondered why, but like - he just ran in here and deadnamed you immediately!”

“What - " Traveler stutters, and then laughs loud enough that you’re worried the doctor will come back. “Mirabelle. No. Not what that was. He just… it makes everything difficult if people hear it.”

“Oh!” Well, if that’s their name, you should probably use it! Even if it makes other people uncomfortable. “Would you rather be called Spica, then?”

Traveler freezes.

At first, you’re worried he’s having a stroke, or another allergic reaction, but. No, they’re still breathing. They’re just… stunned, you think. Either that, or their name is really actually something they don’t want to be called, and you made them uncomfortable!

“… How did you say that,” they say, more of a statement than a question.

“With. With my mouth?”

“Mirabelle, no, that’s - " He steps forward, right in your personal space. “How?”

“Did, um.” You’re not sure what you did wrong, if it’s not a deadname. Most people don't have this kind of reaction to being called one of their alternate names. “Did I mispronounce it?”

“No. That was perfect.” Traveler leans in more, enough that the darkness doesn’t hide their expression. It’s a little too similar to how - how - that one guy was looking at you earlier. “Do it again.”

“Spica?”

“… And you’re still awake.” They realize how close up they got and take a step backwards. “How?”

“It’s… just a name?” Oh, crab, that’s so callous of you to say! “Not to diminish any kind of, um, trauma or grief you have around it! But to me, it’s just a word.”

Cautiously, carefully, Traveler sits on the side of your bed. 

You’re being examined. Again. It feels like Traveler does this whenever you hang out, now. You don’t mind it, exactly. It gives you a second to think. To catch your breath. To watch Traveler, and wonder why they’re so fixated on you. Once, you thought it was like a crush? Which is flattering, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone had one in your direction, but… that’s not what this is. It’s much more important than that. But you can’t pin down what it is instead.

“… Mirabelle.” They turn to look at you softly. “Do you want to know what happens when an étoile falls?”

“I don’t mean to offend you, but that sounds more like a fairy tale than science.” Ack! Oh, that sounds really, really hurtful, doesn’t it? He’s trying to be serious and nice and you’re just brushing him off! “But! The good news is, I - well, fairy tales aren’t my favorite genre, I like horror more, and - "

“Do you want to know or not?”

“Yes!” You lean forward in bed, interested. “Tell me!”

Traveler breathes in, and out. The same way they always do when they’re nervous. Is this… something that would make them scared? They shouldn’t have to push themselves for your sake!

But… he’s so determined. You owe it to them to let them try explaining whatever this is.

“So, it’s called an étoile déchue. It’s what happens when the Univers gets rid of an étoile.”

“Why would - "

“That’s too deep into religious theory, we don’t have time.” They wave away your question without another thought. “It is kind of like a fairy tale, though. Egg falls out of the sky.”

WHAT? “An egg?”

“Don’t know what else to call it. An egg’s an egg.” He shrugs. “But, like, a person-sized egg?”

That sounds cool and terrifying. That would be a really good premise to put in a horror anthology! An egg, with a person inside… you’re sure you’ve read something like that before. But not as an étoile, you don’t think?

“And then when you crack open the egg, a kid comes out.” He mimics a ball cracking with their fingers and makes a dumb little sound effect with their teeth to sell the effect. “They’re human after that. Mostly.”

“Are you trying to say that étoiles are, um, people?” You’re trying not to sound too skeptical, but - come on! “Or people used to be étoiles?”

“Yeah,” they say, determined. And then adds, embarrassed, “I’m not pranking you, by the way.”

It sounds very far-fetched and fictional, but you know what Traveler’s like when they’re joking. He’s deathly serious. And it's not out of scientific curiosity, it's not just a lesson they're giving, it's... intimate. He’s talking about this like it’s… a personal experience. Has he seen an étoile fall before?

… No. It’s more personal than that. You don’t dare say your suspicion out loud yet.

“They’re meant to be forgotten.” Traveler puts their hands in their lap, hands gripping each other tight enough to brighten their skin even more. “When their étoile isn’t in the sky anymore, people can’t remember it the same way.”

“Um, but…” Something’s not adding up. “I haven’t met anyone in Dormont that knows what an étoile is. Did all of them fall?”

“No, it’s just that…” Traveler takes in a breath. This part’s hard for them to admit. “If an étoile falls and they don’t get a sponsor, it -  they kind of get this larger radius of memory loss around them. Not just people forgetting that specific étoile, but all of them.”

“A sponsor?”

“The first human they meet.” Suddenly, they have trouble looking you in the eye. “They’re supposed to learn how to live on Terre from them.”

… Now you remember why Traveler feels so frail. “And you’re missing yours?”

“Yeah.” 

So… nobody here knows what an étoile is because Traveler’s sponsor was stolen by the House. Except for you, maybe, because you wished to remember? You… don’t think you were talking about étoiles. You wanted to remember something else, instead. Not that you regret your wish! It’s not like you can remember the original intention of your wish now, and… you like looking at the étoiles. So you don’t know if you’d be willing to trade your wish anymore.

… It would be nice if you could wish for Traveler to get his sponsor back, though.

“But,” Traveler adds, watching you carefully.

“But?”

“It’s less of a problem now.” 

“Oh, good!” That’s a relief! Traveler is always so sad, it would be nice if they could get a little more hope! “If there’s anything I can do to help, if I can look for them or see if they’ll come to the House, I’ll - "

He smiles easily. “You’ve already done plenty, Mirabelle.”

For once, you believe them.

You were expecting the fallen star to be - you know! The same as humans, where they come out as a baby?

But they’re just a little bit older than you. Almost fully grown physically, but without the experience of living in that body for a human lifespan. If you had to give their appearance a human age… maybe fifteen? Sixteen? 

Their hair and skin are bright. Their hair especially - that’s darkless, even! Even though they look older, they’re a few centimeters shorter than you. They’re wearing a darkless cloak and a darkless hat. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think they were a wizard! The clothes are just so otherworldly. The fabric looks like it was crafted out of light itself.

They stumble around the big ball they jumped out of, like a newborn foal learning how to use their own legs. The shakiness doesn’t last long. Within a few minutes, they’re zipping around the hill, turning over rocks and poking at trees curiously. For as graceful as they look, you're afraid they're going to fall flat on their face! You’re pretty sure they’ll investigate everything in excruciating detail if you don’t stop them soon.

“Um.” You approach them, as friendly as possible! “Do you - I don’t know what to do when a star falls, and I don’t want to hurt you, but, um…”

“❇⟡,” they say, with full facility to use their mouth and vocal cords, but without any knowledge of Vaugardian. It’s definitely a greeting, so you repeat it back, in as best of a pronunciation as you can!

They laugh at your attempt. Okay, well, you're not going to get anywhere with them by talking! Maybe later you can find another star and see if they can talk to each other?

But, for now, you need to communicate with them in a different way.

You reach out a hand and smile. You wonder if that's too alien of a gesture for them to understand.

Thankfully, it's not.

They grasp your hand with two of theirs. It's like touching a cast iron pan straight out of the fire. Your first instinct is to pull your hands back, to run and dump them in the nearest river to take the searing pain out, but. The star's wonder from earlier has fallen into sadness, the reality of their own grounding beginning to set in. They look up at the sky. You follow their gaze. You don't know all of the constellations, but there's a new blank spot high up in the sky. They're... very far from home.

Why does a star fall?

Nobody really knows. Most stars don't remember being stars. But... it must be lonely, right? Torn away from a life lived for millions of years, thrown onto a planet where nobody has the capacity to understand you. Your old name, forgotten by everyone. Your old family, the solar system you made on your own, gone. And... no matter how much you try to fit in, you're always reminded that you're different. Never allowed to be anything new, but pushed to forget the life you left behind all the same. A star before anything else.

...You remember.

You made a wish on the stars before this one fell.

Didn’t you wish for someone to understand you?

Chapter Text

Your friend is running the full gamut of their newly-human emotions tonight.

They're as giggly as an infant at first, because comedy is mostly about surprise and novelty, and everything on Earth is new to them. And then they stare at their old spot in the sky, wailing louder than you've ever heard, without previous experience of emotion regulation at their side. Next, they grab onto you and cling, and they're not made of searing heat anymore so it's not painful but their grip is so tight! Then they sit on the ground, staring at nothing, in what you can only describe as disassociating. You try to soothe them, but you're knocked away in a brief fit of rage. And then they hug you and spill out what feels like a string of apologies in a language you don't speak.

You're not so sure what your role here is supposed to be.

They don't have the sense to hate you yet, to despise you for pulling them out of their home to stay with you.

It's not like you considered a star would fall from your stupid little wish. You thought they only fell because of big, important wishes! Wishes that meant everything to the person requesting, wishes that could change their life. And they're down here because, what? You're a little lonely? Jealous of other people being able to Change and move on from you?

It's not fair.

They shouldn't have fallen from your wish.

But, they're here, and now you need to do something.

You can't bring them back to your parents, can you? Hiding them under your bed just seems cruel. At some point, they'll have to go to school and learn Vaugardian, won't they? And they'll probably want to visit other stars, have some kind of connection with people that know what they're going through. Ah, wait, do stars go to human doctors?? Is it awful of you to wonder if they do?

You just... have the feeling that you can mess this up. And you don't want to. Your friend's first day on Earth should be a good one.

A lantern light comes over the hill, and you get the sense that you are very much in trouble.

An elderly woman and a person in their early adulthood come into view as the lantern light creeps closer. They’re both dressed like they just came from the House, with those strange circular brooches. The elderly one has a sour look on her face, and wears more important-looking robes than the younger one. The younger one has short, cropped darkless hair - the same shade as your new friends', but with a completely different texture. They're wearing robes with translucent sleeves that have stars embroidered all over.

Feeling oddly protective of your new friend, you scooch in front of them to block the two new onlookers. It doesn’t work - they poke their head out from behind you immediately, too curious for their own good.

“Oh no,” the young adult says, “they’re already sponsored?”

“You said we wouldn’t have any trouble.” The elderly woman looks at the two of you with a biting glare. “What happens if someone already - "

The adult ignores her and walks towards you and your new friend. They look up at the sky and back at your friend.

“Spica, isn’t it?” They hold out a hand. “★‧₊?”

Your friend nods, shy. Oh - phew! You got a name! Spica! That’s nice.

Next, the adult looks at you.

“You’re Mirabelle, from Dormont, right?” They wait until you nod. “Alright! Good. Um. I hope this isn’t weird to ask, but would you mind spending a night or two in House Dormont with us…?”

“Huh?”

“Just until we sort a few things out!” 

You… hesitate. 

You’re probably in trouble already for running off during the night, dirtying your dress, calling down a crabbing star!!! But what would your mother say if you immediately went to the House? She wouldn’t like it if you Changed. You don’t want to Change. People only go to Houses to alter themselves, and you - you're fine. There's nothing wrong with how you are now. And there's nothing wrong with how Spica is, they shouldn't have to go to the House either! But both of these adults look at you, expectant, insistent, and it's so... overwhelming.

You don’t know what to do.

You don’t know what to - 

“They chose a new Head Housemaiden?”

“Yeah, and all of the more experienced Housemaidens are picking and prodding around trying to guess who it is.” Claude flops over on her bed. She’s been a bit more high strung than usual. “It’s obvious to me, I don’t know why they’re even arguing.”

Please don’t say you’re going to be the next Head Housemaiden, you think to yourself. But you’re mature enough not to vocalize that! Instead, you just focus on your little embroidery. You’re not very good at it, but this project just needs you to make a bunch of Vaugardian knots. People say they’re hard to make, but once you do enough of them in a row, they’re kind of therapeutic…!

Claude decides you’ve been silent for long enough and gives you the answer. “It’s gotta be Euphrasie, right?”

“Oh, Euphrasie!” Phew! Yeah, yeah, you could see that! “She would be a good fit!”

“They say the interim Head Housemaiden put the main candidate on some huge task.” Claude grins at you like she knows something. “If the candidate does what she’s supposed to, it’ll be official.”

You know Euphrasie would be a good Head Housemaiden. You can’t think of a single person who would be unhappy with her in charge. Well - maybe one, right? It would be impossible to have a completely unanimous vote in a House this big. But you don’t see anything wrong with her! She’s always making sure everyone’s safe, and she checks in on you when you have headaches, and she’s really, really good with Craft!

And… it would be nice. 

The interim Head Housemaiden is… hard to look at. It would be a lot more comforting if the person in charge was somebody with more experience, someone who doesn’t make everyone around her feel like they’re not doing enough with their lives soon enough. And, besides that, your temporary Head Housemaiden is quite the little whipcracker for someone so young! 

Although, she can’t be as bad as the last Head Housemaiden. She’s not grabbing people or hurting them. Or taking somebody's - and -

Finished with her daily gossip, Claude leans over to look at your embroidery. “What are you making, anyway?”

“Oh, I’m just dressing up this scarf!” You hold up the lightless fabric, which you’ve put a bunch of little darkless Vaugardian knots onto. 

She huffs. “Polka dots are supposed to be bigger, you know. And more uniform?”

“They’re not polka dots!” You make a huff of your own as you tie the fabric into your hair to hold up your braids. “They’re étoiles, they show up in the ciel when it’s night.”

For a moment, Claude stands there, face blank. Frozen in confusion for half a second. When she comes back to herself, her face is twisted up in frustration.

“What are you talking about.”

You move to explain, like always, but there’s a knock on your dorm room. Claude stubbornly stays fixed in her spot, so you move off the bed and answer the door. Euphrasie is behind it, chipper and cheery as usual, but with a stiff air around her.

“Oh, Euphrasie!” You move your body so she can pass you. “Claude’s here, I can leave if - "

“Housemaiden Mirabelle,” she says, awkwardly formal, her eyes flicking further off into the hallway, “I’m actually here to see you!”

You nod, understanding the assignment. Time to be formal! Formal, formal, formal. “Can I help you, Housemaiden Euphrasie?”

“You can, actually!” Euphrasie grins wide at you, her whole face crinkling up. “I’ve been sent on quite the little mission. And you’re part of it!”

Oh no.

Are you - 

Euphrasie catches on to your anxiety. “You are,” she says, winking.

That does not help your worrying!!!

What if you do something wrong and you’re the reason she’s not the Head Housemaiden? And then what if everyone else knows it’s your fault and they’re all mad at you!! Euphrasie is well-liked, nobody wants to have the interim Head Housemaiden here for a single second longer than she has to be. So if Euphrasie doesn’t get this, you’re probably prolonging the decision, and then everybody will be miserable for even longer.

“It will be okay, Mirabelle.” She reaches down to cup your cheek in her hand. “All you have to do is be yourself.”

Right.

Like that’s ever gone well.

Quietly, Euphrasie brings you into one of the Changing rooms. It’s been reserved. There’s nobody studying here, nobody recovering from Body Craft, and no instructors either. The only other person here is - 

“Housemaiden Traveler,” you say, under your breath, although it takes you a minute to remember their name. 

Their eyes shoot immediately to your scarf. “Étoiles?”

“Someone knows what it is, at least…!” You don’t feel as bad that Claude criticized them, now. 

“Do you like them?”

“I love them!” You clasp your hands together happily. Finally, somebody to talk to about this! “I’ve been going out at night to watch them recently. But sometimes they’re not there.”

He smiles at you, strangely reassuring. “When it’s cloudy, they won’t be.”

“Is that it?” You let out a sigh. “Phew! I was worried they were going to disappear forever!”

Traveler’s eyes bug out and they drop their jaw. “Wait, nobody told you about the forever clouds?”  

“The - huh???”

“The forever clouds, they’re coming next month and they’re staying in the ciel forever.”  You’d almost believe their lie, if he didn’t crack and laugh halfway through it. “It’s going to rain every time the étoiles are out.”

“… Housemaiden Traveler.” Ugh, everyone has to make fun of your interests one way or another… !

He snickers, too satisfied with himself. Euphrasie makes a little hum, and both of you snap your attention to her. Was she watching that whole time?

“Now, I want to preface this by saying I do not think this is a problem,” Euphrasie starts, very carefully as not to startle you, “but the two of you are the Housemaidens with the lowest amount of Changes on record!”

“Someone’s keeping track?” Oh no. Oh no now you’re going to micromanage this for the rest of your life.

“That’s number of recorded changes. The big ones! Like changing your name or your appearance or what you’re studying.” She smiles at you encouragingly. “I think the small ones count too, and I’ve seen plenty from both of you, so you are not in trouble with me.”

Housemaiden Traveler rolls their eyes. “But we’re in trouble with the House.”

“Bingo!”

Against your will, you make a pathetic little squeak. “We’re in trouble?”

“Well. Nobody would dream of kicking you out.” Euphrasie gestures for you to sit down next to Housemaiden Traveler. She gracefully sits across from the both of you. “But I would rather somebody nice and sympathetic come and talk to you about this instead of somebody… outside the House.”

“Would somebody else have kicked us out?” you ask, keeping the previous Head Housemaiden in your mind.

“… I don’t think it does us very good to speculate.”

You speculate about it often. Change doesn’t take any believers by force, and it doesn’t try to beat them into submission, either. Change is supposed to come from inside yourself. Even with your deepest, darkest worries that you’ll never Change, that you’re too stubborn to do it for real, you know that you still have the capacity for it. There will be something, one day, that will push you into it, whether you’re a Housemaiden or not. It doesn’t happen because someone screams at you to, it happens because it’s inevitable.

Why was the Head Housemaiden in charge, anyway? Maybe she was just too stagnant in her position over the years. Usually Head Housemaidens only serve for half a decade or so, and then they pass the torch onto somebody else long before their own retirement. It's funny, actually, that the temporary Head Housemaiden came from Corbeaux. You... think you remember that the previous Head Housemaiden moved to Dormont from there, too. House transfers are fairly common, especially when a Housemaiden wants to change careers, but there's something about Corbeaux that's... digging at your brain.

“So…” Euphrasie gently pulls you out of your thoughts. She brings out a clipboard and lets it settle on her lap. “Today we’re going to talk about Change together! The three of us! And if there’s anything you want to put on record, you would be free to, but there’s no pressure!”

Oh, there’s pressure. Claude said that Euphrasie had tasks to do before she could be Head Housemaiden. This is absolutely something the House put her up to as a test. So if you and Housemaiden Traveler don’t have a recorded change today, you could be… you could be throwing out her chances entirely!

Waugh, what can you do?? What’s big enough to Change that can help Euphrasie, but small enough that it doesn’t uproot everything about you that you like?

Maybe… maybe!! You could just cheat off of Housemaiden Traveler’s homework! See what he’s doing, see how they decide to Change. Nobody will notice if the two of you change in similar ways, right?

You look towards him, pleading, hoping.

“I could drop he/him,” Housemaiden Traveler offers, “and then change it back in, like, two weeks.”

Euphrasie snorts. “And let me guess, you would drop they/them a couple months later, and bring it back two weeks after that?”

“So that wouldn’t count?”

“Let’s call it a last resort,” she says, tapping her pen against the clipboard. “Mirabelle?”

You could never get rid of your pronouns! You’re too attached to them. “She” feels as much like it’s yours as “Mirabelle” is. And you can’t change your gender, either. You liked being a girl growing up, you like being a woman now. 

Could you sneakily add in a pronoun and just not use the second one?

“Um…” You shrug. “She/they?”

“Doesn’t fit,” Housemaiden Traveler says, lazily. 

“You do seem very… hesitant about it.” Euphrasie watches you carefully. “You shouldn’t agree to something you don’t have the enthusiasm for. I don’t want you to harm yourself.”

“Um… okay.” You breathe in, and out, just like - “Then I don’t have anything.”

“That’s alright, Mirabelle. That’s why I’m here to help.” Euphrasie crosses something off on the clipboard. You can’t help but feel… watched. “Have either of you considered Body Craft?”

“Nah,” Housemaiden Traveler says immediately, “too much trouble. I’ll stick with the meat prison I was given.”

You haven’t considered it. But it’s something that everyone does. Surely you could find something wrong with yourself, something you want to edit! Right? It would be pretty pathetic if you were so ambivalent about yourself that you couldn’t pick a single feature off of yourself you wanted to remove.

You walk up to the full length mirror and inspect yourself. Your hair - you’d never change its texture, that's too personal. Cutting it, yes, but not Changing it. Your waist - it’s a little wide, just like your mother’s, but it helps fill out all of the dresses in your preferred styles. You were a pretty skinny kid, so the way your body makes a bit of a pear shape is a novelty! It would be a waste to get rid of it now. Your face, your eyes, your ears, your hands, feet, legs, arms, stomach, chest, genitals - nothing offends you. 

Sure, you’d like it if you didn’t have a period every month, but that’s a Change you’ve grown attached to despite the annoyance. Something to keep track of the months with, something that gives you a very physical alert if there’s a part of your body that’s having trouble. Part of Change is making peace with the fact that you're not going to be happy all hours of the day, that your life will be painless all the way through. You were expecting the teachings to give you a reason to Change that, but... it's only given you a newfound appreciation for it.

“… I can’t think of anything I’d want to craft away,” you admit, shyly. “I mean, I think I already Changed a little bit from when I was a kid? I look a lot different.”

“I do remember that!” Euphrasie smiles at you, sunny and bright. “The Change God shifted that all around without making you go through Body Craft. It’s a more natural change, but still a Change!”

… Huh? When did you meet Euphrasie? It was at your Joining Ceremony, wasn’t it? Your thighs were already pretty thick when you became a Housemaiden. You stopped being a stick when you were in your late teens.

Housemaiden Traveler scowls at Euphrasie, and she drops the subject, so you can’t interrogate further. You sigh and look in the mirror again for anything you can edit. You were saving a big chop for a time you needed to Change, weren't you? Maybe this is your ticket.

“It’s not a big change, but…” You let your braids roll over your fingers. “I was thinking of taking my braids out?”

“That’s a change!” Euphrasie smiles. 

“Well, I might just want to chop it off and start over?”

“That’s a bigger change, definitely!” Still not a capital-C change, but she’s happier with the idea.

“A-and…” Oh, Change, you need to think of something better. “I could swap out my wardrobe again!”

“Mirabelle, I think that’s quite enough.” Euphrasie giggles under her breath. “You’re welcome to look through the wardrobes here, but the hair is a great idea!”

“Okay!” You rush back over to Housemaiden Traveler and Euphrasie. “Um… ! Housemaiden Traveler, can you just chop everything off for me?”

“Why me?”

“You’re a Piercing type, right?” You don’t know why you know that. It just makes sense. “I don’t have any scissors or razors on me…”

“… Fine.” They gesture for you to come closer. “Sit down, I can’t reach your head otherwise.”

“You could if you Crafted yourself to be taller,” Euphrasie teases.

“It’s my meat prison and I get to do what I want with it,” he snaps back. “Which again, is nothing.”

You feel a bit better that you can’t find anything you want to change with your body. Housemaiden Traveler feels the same way! That means you’re not weird! Unless you’re both weird. Which is a big possibility. But it’s less scary to be weird if someone else is also doing it, so that’s fine too!

Placing a pillow on the floor, you sit down in front of Housemaiden Traveler. You grab at one of your braids and kiss it. Yeah, ew, as you’re touching it, you know it’s too dry. Even if you weren’t changing for Euphrasie to get a promotion, you’d want this off of your head! Give your poor scalp a break.

Traveler grimaces down at you. “… What are you doing.”

“Saying goodbye!!” It is very childish of you to do, but… you haven’t had a big chop since you were a kid! This is a big deal!! 

“You kiss hair, you kiss leaves,” he groans and starts to undo your braids, “you read too many of those weird books.”

You do not kiss leaves!

Well.

Actually, you did wish on a leaf once. And you need to kiss something to wish on it. So. That doesn't count!!

Euphrasie watches Housemaiden Traveler carefully as he works on taking your braids out. If this is your change, you wonder what she can convince them to change.

“Traveler,” she says, once he’s finished undoing your hair.

“Mhmm?”

“Now. You don’t have a name.” Euphrasie tilts her head towards them sympathetically. “And that makes it very hard to write down anything about you in any records.”

There’s a long, tense pause. You hear some sharp scissor craft above your ear, and realize the chopping has already started. You think maybe he’s doing it so that they don’t have to talk to Euphrasie as much. 

“Traveler is a name if you use it enough,” they say after they get halfway through your head.

“Well, yes…” Euphrasie lets out a big, hefty sigh. “It just seems clinical? I know it might make people more at ease around you if you had a name that was more… of a name.”

“You know I’ve got one already.”

WHAT.

Wait, why are you surprised? You knew that, didn’t you?

“Yes, but none of us can say it, much less write it down.” She picks at her sleeve, shameful. “And I was under the impression you don’t… prefer it, anymore.”

You look up at Housemaiden Traveler. “You shouldn’t have to be called a name you don’t like…!”

He grabs at your skull and moves it back into place. “Don’t move while I’m crafting blades around your head, Mirabelle.”

“But - " You wiggle in place, ignoring Housemaiden Traveler’s protests. “Names are important, you know!”

“No they aren’t,” they whisper as they take off another big chunk of hair, “it’s not like they mean anything.”

“Traveler,” Euphrasie chides.

“Fine, whatever.” Housemaiden Traveler finishes chopping off the longest parts of your hair, and does one more go-around to get everything to the same length. “Would it be easier if I just made a name up?”

“… Admittedly, it would be.” Euphrasie chooses her words carefully, as if she’s worried the slightest thing will set off Housemaiden Traveler. “But I would prefer to call you your name, not a fake one.”

“If it’s what everyone calls me, doesn’t it become my name?”

“Not really?” You regret interjecting immediately - Housemaiden Traveler’s hands freeze on your head and you can feel Euphrasie staring at you. “I mean! Don’t listen to me!”

“No, Mirabelle, it may help him to have a different perspective.” Euphrasie fixes her face into a smile and makes an encouraging gesture. “Go ahead!”

Housemaiden Traveler still sits behind you, hand on your head. You think maybe you should get up and face them, but… something about that is too scary right now. It’s not like you often have trouble being honest in front of people, it’s just…

It’s a sensitive topic. You can tell.

“Um, to me… a name isn’t just something you’re called. Most people in Vaugarde have alternate names and they’re all technically something you could call a person.” You fix your eyes down on the ground, the thought of using any of your other names completely foreign to you. “But if you called me any of my alternate names? I… it wouldn’t fit.”

You hear a snort behind you. “Really selling me on changing my name, Mirabelle.”

“I just!!” You reach for the right words. “It… seems like, you know, you’ve been called Traveler this whole time, and you still don’t think of it as your name.”

Housemaiden Traveler falls deathly silent behind you.

“And I have to imagine it’s hard to always get called something that is, um, a title? Doesn’t that put a lot of distance between you and everyone else in the House?”

Speaking of distance - you realize how much of it you’re putting between you and Housemaiden Traveler by refusing to look at them. You stand in place, steeling yourself to face them directly. You’re not going to convince him of anything by being a coward.

“So. Um.” You force yourself to make eye contact. “You might feel better if you get a name that you can make yours. Instead of something that’s a placeholder or something that doesn’t quite fit anymore.”

Housemaiden Traveler stares up at you. In shock? In fear? You can’t get a good read on that expression of theirs. They always look a little scared of everything, even if there aren’t any threats around. It’s not your fault he’s upset, but you can’t bite back your own guilt.

“But you don’t have to!” You’re backtracking, you know it, and this isn’t good for you but you can’t stand to see him upset - “Augh, I - I didn’t mean to - "

“Alright.” They take a breath in, and out. And then they’re smiling at you. “What are some good Vaugardian names, then?”

“H-huh?” Oh, Change. That’s such a personal question, you shouldn’t be responsible for naming him!! You wouldn’t even know where to start! Why are they trusting someone like you with a piece of their very intimate, very personal Change?

Noticing your hesitation, they scrunch up their nose and look at Euphrasie next.

“Well…” Euphrasie pulls a book full of baby names off one of the shelves and hands it to Housemaiden Traveler. “I’m sure you can find something you like in here?”

Housemaiden Traveler thumbs through a few pages. They stare. And then they throw the book in your arms.

“Ah - “ You barely catch it.

“I can’t read.”  

“You WHAT -"

“Who would have taught me? I learned Vaugardian by listening to people.” He sits down, slouching lazily in the chair. “Just read me some names that start with ‘sss’? It’s a familiar sound.”

“… Okay.” You flip to the middle of the S section in the book. You’re just going to read the names in order. Something will come to them, surely! “Let’s start with, um, Siffrin?”

“Yeah, that one’s fine.”

“WHAT.” You look back down at the book. There are so many names here, ones that fit them better, and they don’t want to hear them? “That’s just the first one, you don’t want to listen to the other options?”

“If I end up hating it, I can just ‘change’ it later, can’t I?” He sticks out his tongue and winks. 

“That is true!” Euphrasie walks back over to grab her clipboard and hovers her pen over it. “Would you like me to write it down for you in the books, Housemaiden Siffrin?”

“Sure, let’s do it.” Housemaiden Siffrin swivels his head to look at you. “Do I win now?”

You shrink, confused. “You… can’t, um, win Change?”

“I don’t know, Mirabelle.” Euphrasie finishes with her paperwork and sets everything back down on the desk. “It sure seems like he’s winning Change to me!”

If only it was that easy. 

It’s not so comforting that Housemaiden Siffrin is just… going with the first thing you suggested to get you out of their hair. But if it works for them, you’re not going to confront them.

You’re not as confident to try gaming the system. There’s already a bundle of guilt in your gut about being an impostor among the Housemaidens' ranks. Gleefully running around maliciously cheating the system goes way too far for your tastes. If you didn’t want to be here that badly, you might as well quit and run off. And then, what? You’re lost with even less of a purpose than before?

“Mirabelle?” Housemaiden Siffrin hesitates, but shyly pokes you in the back. “I finished your hair. Go tell me if I messed up.”

You’re certain they didn’t! It’s not like you ordered a super complicated cut. Even an amateur can shave someone down if they know how to work a blade properly. And Housemaiden Siffrin seemed to know what they were doing! You skip over to the full length mirror, and - 

Oh! It’s nice! It’s so much lighter, and he left you with a couple centimeters of coil all around your skull. It’s comfortable. Breezy! Should be nice for the summer, even if it’ll grow back fairly quickly. Now you have the chance to take care of it on a more professional scale - that cosmetology class will come in handy!

Not that you were bad with it before, but teenagers love messing up their own hair, ha…

Now that there’s not a full head of hair in the way, you notice something weird. You reach up to touch it, and it’s a perfectly spherical dot of bright hairs. Not a lot of them, the disc is only as thick as the stem of a wine glass, but it’s enough to be a pattern. 

“Everything alright, Mirabelle?” Housemaiden Siffrin watches you carefully. 

“Yes, I…” You ruffle the hairs in the weird spot. “I’ve never seen stress hairs all go in the same place like this?”

Euphrasie lets out a dainty little laugh. “Oh, I’m certain you have!”

Right, you have… “Claude said that hers was from a chemical burn?”

“Did she say that?”

“…She said she thought so.” You reach behind your own head and touch the spot where Claude’s bright patch is. “But couldn’t remember. It’s a weird spot for a burn to be, it’s at the back of her head.”

“Hm.” Euphrasie tilts her head at you. “Mirabelle, Siffrin has… a condition. Do you know what that is?”

“Um.”

Weird question, out of nowhere! Weren’t you talking about hair? Housemaiden Siffrin’s hair is lightless, with darkless roots, so maybe she thinks it’s something contagious? But out of everything wrong with Housemaiden Siffrin’s health, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with his hair. It's probably dyed lightless.

“They… don’t have a ‘sponsor,’” is what you start with, even if you’re not very sure what a sponsor is right now, “and that’s… not good?”

 
Euphrasie lights up. “It’s not good because…?”

“Obviously, um, because… people can’t remember him unless they’re in the same room as him?”

"Well, that's not what the problem with Siffrin stems from, it's...?" She gestures for you to go on.

That doesn't make much sense. It can't be good that Housemaiden Siffrin can't be remembered, right? What else can you add? What's worse than that? “Oh, and nobody knows what étoiles are?”

Your answer earns you a small round of applause from Euphrasie. And then, as if you’re not in the room anymore, she turns to Housemaiden Siffrin. “See, Siffrin?”

“N-no.” He suddenly glues his eyes to the floor, shy. “I’m telling you, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Then how did she - "

“Wait.” You raise your hand. “Um. Euphrasie. Housemaiden Siffrin. I don’t know what you’re fighting about, but, well… if someone in the House chronically can’t be remembered, isn’t that a problem?”

“It is a problem!” Euphrasie reaches down and scruffs your just-buzzed hair. “Good job!”

Housemaiden Siffrin crosses his arms. “Why would you praise her for that.”

“Well, it must be a very difficult piece of information to internalize.” Euphrasie pulls a smug face. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be running away from the rest of us all the time.”

“I have good reasons to,” Housemaiden Siffrin mutters.

“Not from Mirabelle.” Finished questioning you, Euphrasie goes to circle Housemaiden Siffrin like a hungry shark. “I’m surprised you didn’t insist on bunking with her.”

“I’m fine where I am.”

“The old storage room?” She sighs out. “I’m half convinced that room is full of mold, Siffrin…”

“A-and if we can’t remember you…” You step forward, breaking Housemaiden Siffrin and Euphrasie out of their newly-forming fight. “If we ever need to evacuate and seal the House, what if we accidentally lock you in!”

“What.”

“Siffrin, you have to know about the evacuation system.” Euphrasie pinches the bridge of her nose. “Do you skip the drills?”

“I only go to classes I don’t have to do reading for.”

“SIFFRIN.”

“Well if I had a sponsor, this wouldn’t be a problem,” he says, malicious, one edge of his lip quirked up tall.

If Housemaiden Siffrin doesn’t know what to do in an emergency, and you don’t have full control over what and when you remember them… you should explain the procedure immediately! Shouldn’t you? That would be the right thing to do! 

“So! Sometimes in Houses there are Craft accidents or other emergencies that mean we need to evacuate - " You try not to flinch when your explanation puts two sets of eyes on you. “ - and if we leave anything behind in the House that’s dangerous to travelers or passers-by, we need to seal the House on the way out!”

“Every House has a different locking mechanism, so that bad-faith actors can’t figure out how to release them on their own.” Euphrasie joins you, launching into the normal teaching script for the evacuation protocol. “Most involve needing another Housemaiden to come unlock the door, but it depends on the decisions of every House’s trapmaker.”

“Ours is using a set of orbs to seal the door!” You clasp your hands together, happy to explain. “And the orbs are all sitting in predetermined locations in the House, equidistant to each other, and they all ring out when somebody Crafts into them to signal danger.”

“If you find a wailing orb, your job is to gather as many Housemaidens as you can while also leaving the building as fast as possible.”

“And then, finally, once all of the orbs are outside, the door locks shut.” You stomp on the floor, for dramatic effect, mimicking the sound of a big door closing. “And then we delegate who outside the House watches over the orbs until it’s time to unlock the door again.”

“Most of the walls in the House are Crafted to be fireproof.” Euphrasie gestures at the pale brick walls in the Changing room. “So if the main door is shut, and there’s a large fire that can’t be fought, sealing the door is the best option. We lose items, but not people.”

“And all of the books in the library are backed up at other Houses anyway!”

“Except the diaries and any familytales from dead lines.” Euphrasie pulls a frown. “Which would be a loss.”

“But to donate something to a House means understanding it may Change.” Your lips wiggle as you justify this part. “Even if that Change is… um. Total destruction.”

You and Euphrasie stand in front of Housemaiden Siffrin, finished with your explanation. It’s the same old presentation you hear every year at the House - emergency protocols are explained to Housemaidens on a fairly regular basis! You even know most of this from before you went into the House, as it’s something that Dormont citizens need to be briefed on.

Housemaiden Siffrin isn’t impressed, though. “That sounds stupid.”

You have a weird impulse to defend the locking mechanism. “It does not!”

“What if someone’s left inside?”

“They could sneak out a window,” you say, knowing how weak of an idea it is.

“They could climb down from the roof,” Euphrasie adds, not embarrassed that her idea is even weaker.

“And what if someone steals all the orbs and leaves the House on their own?”

“The orbs wail and blink if they get too close to each other!” Fontaine told you it happened a few times on accident when she was a kid. “If someone grabbed a couple orbs, everyone in the House would know that it was time to leave!”

“… This is weird,” Housemaiden Siffrin finally proclaims, but doesn’t have any further questions. 

“It’s not weird if it works!” 

“It’s really dangerous that you didn’t know,” you say, worried, “what if there was an emergency in the House and you didn’t know about the orbs?”

“I’d have figured it out,” he sneers.

“If it was in the middle of the night? With no time time to prepare?” Euphrasie waggles her finger. This is a practiced argument. She’s tried to pitch this to Housemaiden Siffrin before. “We need to put something in place so that you are found and accounted for in an emergency.”

“It’s too much trouble.” Housemaiden Siffrin’s face darkens a couple shades, unused to being this far in the spotlight. “And, anyway, there’s nothing you can do. If those orbs go off and I don’t hear it, it’s not like any of you know to look for me.”

“Oh, wait, I know!” A flash of inspiration hits you. “Housemaiden Siffrin, people remember you when they’re looking directly at you, right?”

They wiggle their hand. “Some things, at least.”

“Why don’t we put one of the evacuation orbs in Siffrin’s room?” It’s too simple of a solution, but someone needs to say it out loud, don’t they? “That way, if we all need to leave the House and lock it up, we won’t lock him in on accident?”

“Housemaiden Mirabelle, that is absolutely brilliant!” Euphrasie cheers. She never thought of that? “We would all naturally go look for the orbs to seal the House shut, if we were all going to leave, and if Siffrin is holding one of them, then of course we’ll have to see him!”

You turn to ask Housemaiden Siffrin where his room is, and find them watching you slack-jawed. 

“Housemaiden Siffrin?”

“You would do that for me?” they ask, the question more of a squeak than a sentence.

You grin. “Of course!”  

Maybe you shouldn’t be answering for the entire House, but you know everyone would feel the same!

“… Why.”

“Siffrin. I think you’re forgetting something.” When Euphrasie approaches Housemaiden Siffrin, they flinch a little, so she backs off. “The House is a place of Change, yes… but. It’s also a place to care for those who are lost.”

“Yeah. A place to care for travelers.” He groans and rolls his eyes. “And I’m not one of those anymore.”

“But you’re still welcome here.”

“Am I?” A dark shadow casts Housemaiden Siffrin’s face, and they watch Euphrasie with wild eyes. “Am I welcome anywhere?”

Euphrasie freezes in place.

“You could have left me in Dormont.”

“… I was young, and unchanged, and - "

“You should have left me in Dormont.”

“… I’m sorry.” Euphrasie’s normally so calm and collected, but right now she’s on the edge of crying. “I don’t know what I could ever do to make it up to you, I just…”

You wonder if you should break up this still-forming fight when you hear the door click.

The temporary Head Housemaiden walks into the room, followed by her… retainer? Bodyguard. That one guy. Your heart sinks when you look at him. He doesn’t make any eye contact with you. 

“Housemaiden Mirabelle, Housemaiden… um, the other one,” the Head Housemaiden says, nodding at the two of you. 

“It’s Siffrin, now,” he says, making a little ta-dah motion with their hands.

“… You Changed?”

“Yeah.” 

“It’s only been a few hours, Housemaiden Euphrasie,” she says, utterly stunned, “and in that time, Housemaiden Siffrin Changed, and Housemaiden Mirabelle cut her own hair?”

“It’s very difficult to Change when everybody around you acts like you never will, Head Housemaiden!” Euphrasie is smiling, but she is not happy. 

“… I see.” The temporary Head Housemaiden sways her hands by her hips. Her little bangles make ding-ding noises as she does. “… I believe we need to have a talk, the two of us.”

“I would be glad to.” Euphrasie turns to you. “Mirabelle, would you mind writing down those safety precautions we came up with? So I can review them later?”

“Um - sure!” You walk over to the desk and pull out a spare piece of paper. 

“Thank you,” she says, and moves to the door. “This room has been rented out for the rest of today. Take all the time you need in here, the both of you.”

The interim Head Housemaiden leads Euphrasie out of the room. Her bodyguard lingers in the doorway, eyes on Housemaiden Siffrin, and reluctantly shuts the door. 

You’re alone.

Augh, first you need to write this safety protocol down, but - !

You take the notes down for it as quickly as possible. You want to keep talking to Housemaiden Siffrin - you have a few questions - but you’re certain they’ll run off and leave you by your lonesome. And if you had to choose between the two, you’d rather this safety thing was hammered out before you give yourself an indulgent conversation with Housemaiden Siffrin.

After you’re done writing everything down, you whip your head around, expecting to see an open door and a speck of dust in Housemaiden Siffrin’s place, but - 

He’s still there.

Waiting for you to finish writing.

Studying you like always.

“Housemaiden Siffrin.”

“That’s me.” 

“Congratulations on the new name,” you say, because what else are you even supposed to say right now!! They don’t know how to read, they live in a room that might have mold in it, and they’re in some kind of fight with Euphrasie! Who might end up being the new Head Housemaiden! 

“Thanks for the new name,” he answers, just as unsure what to say to you as you are to him.

“Um, Housemaiden Siffrin.” You figure you should address the elephant in the room. “Why did you pick the first name I read out of the book instead of listening to all the options?”

“Huh?” Caught off guard from the question, they shrug. “Ah, uh… you must have picked it for a reason, right?”

“What? No, I just - " You don’t want to sound callous, but you very much didn’t pick it for a reason! “It was the first name I saw on the page.”

“But when you said it, it sounded like a fine enough name.” He nods, dismissive of both your concerns and his. “I can warm up to it.”

“Still - "

Housemaiden Siffrin sighs out. “You’re still using the first name your parents gave you, right?” 

“But yours is a chosen name…”

“Mirabelle, I love the name. But I didn’t choose it.”

You make your way over to the shelf to try and find the baby name book Euphrasie picked out. “Then why don’t I read more names out of the book and - "

“And I don’t want to choose it, either.” Housemaiden Siffrin follows you, blocking you from the shelf. “I like having a name picked out for me, even if it’s random. Just how you like the name that was picked out for you.”

You wonder if their sponsor was supposed to pick out their name. How soon were they separated for him not to be named by his own sponsor?

“… What was your sponsor like?”

“Anxious,” he answers immediately. “But in a good way.”

You’ve been anxious all your life, and you have no idea what anxious in a good way means. Your confusion must show enough on your face, with the way Housemaiden Siffrin laughs.

“Like…” He looks up at the ceiling, thinking. “It’s easy to hide when something’s wrong, right? But she’s like. An alarm. If you pay attention enough, you can kind of get a read on her to tell when something’s really wrong.”

Can. As if Housemaiden Siffrin still has access to speak with her. You try to think of someone in the House that fits that description. If the House stole her from him, then she’s got to be here somewhere, right?

“Humans just… lie. All the time.” Eyes still on the ceiling. Avoiding you. “She doesn’t. If she’s sad, she looks sad. If she’s worried, she looks worried. It’s easier to gauge what’s going on around her.”

Is there someone like that in the House…?

“And she actually tries to figure out what’s going on.” Now their eyes are on the floor. Still avoiding you. “Most people, they realize they’re forgetting something and it hurts their head, so they try to push it out entirely.”

Oh, Claude’s trying to figure out what’s wrong with Housemaiden Siffrin, isn’t she? “Is it Claude?”

“What? No.” His face scrunches up. “When she remembers me, she just pokes and prods at me. When - when my sponsor does, she…”

Finally, Housemaiden Siffrin lifts his head, and looks you properly in the eye.

“She just has fun.” They smile, fond. “So it’s nice. When we can hang out.”

… You’re starting to get the sense of who Housemaiden Siffrin’s sponsor used to be.

You won’t say a word, though.

Not yet.

Not when you know that when you leave this room, they’re going to have to say goodbye to you, and then the next time you meet, it’ll be a blank slate. It’s not like you can remember very well, but there are fragments. Moments where you walk into a room and their face crumples when you introduce yourself to him. The second after the door closes behind you where your memory of them wriggles out of your brain like a dog slipping its leash. The hours spent in the infirmary, trying your best to remember something that can’t stay in your head independently. You might not know the full breadth of the problem, but you have context clues.

The way this is going, it's hurting both you and Housemaiden Siffrin.

And it shouldn't.

You’re not sure how this happened, but… you should figure out a way to stop it. If the House is the reason you’re having this problem, the answer for how to fix it should be around here somewhere, too. It’s time to be cool and sneaky! If you can manage it.

You walk back over to the safety protocols you wrote down. “I forgot something I needed to say to Euphrasie! I should jot it down.” 

Housemaiden Siffrin nods. “I’ll go, then - "

“N-no, you should stay!” If they leave, you won’t remember a thing. “Let’s head to the cafeteria together after this.”

You’re not sure why you’re hiding this from them, but… Housemaiden Siffrin can be flighty. It’s just a minute, but you note down all of the important things you learned today - Housemaiden Siffrin’s memory issue, your sponsorship, Euphrasie’s behavior around him. That should be enough to get you started.

“That’s it!” You slip the note into your robes and make your way out of the Body Craft room. “Ready?”

Despite his invitation, he hesitates to leave with you. But you’re insistent, and you’d like to keep Housemaiden Siffrin in your mind as long as possible. 

And you do, until you get to the cafeteria and realize you’re alone.

But that’s fine! It’s not like you needed to meet anyone here, right?

“This is useless,” the old woman says, and reaches behind you for Spica, “if what you said is true, we need to move fast.”

The other Housemaiden tries to block her path. “Head Housemaiden!” 

You gasp out, afraid of some random adult moving towards you so frighteningly! This is the Head Housemaiden? Spica follows you backwards, and pulls for good measure. You almost trip and fall again, stumbling over them, but the air smells sweet and your foot lands exactly where it’s supposed to. 

The Head Housemaiden pushes her subordinate aside, and as helpful as Spica was to take you backwards, neither of you can outrun an adult for very long. The Head Housemaiden snakes around you and grabs Spica by the arm and pulls. They take small, stuttering steps to catch up, to do anything except fall over, and reach out for you.

“I never said you should - " The other Housemaiden whines, not confident in their abilities to speak to the Head Housemaiden, and runs up to you. “Mirabelle, are you sure you don’t want to come to the House with us?”

“Why would I want to come with you now?” You point at the Head Housemaiden holding Spica roughly, dragging them across the field violently. “You can get her to let them go, can’t you?”

“I - " The Housemaiden snaps their head towards the pair, panicked, frightened. “It’ll be okay, we won’t - "

They’re interrupted by the Head Housemaiden’s voice, too far away now for you to understand. Their name being called, you assume. They reach forward to touch you, and -

You didn’t want any attention called to yourself tonight, but you scream out. Everything adults told you to do in an emergency. Make yourself loud, make yourself hard to take away. Make it obvious to any onlookers that you don’t want to be next to this adult. It’s not a lesson you ever thought you’d have to exercise, and especially not this late into your life, but you still know all the steps.

Like touching fire, the Housemaiden lets you go. They’re conflicted. Worried. But a decision is made. You’re left behind. 

Phew.

You… should do something. It’s… bad if two adults you don’t know come up and take a kid away with them, right? Spica’s not from Earth, they don’t know what to do with themselves yet! You need to find a way to help.

A moment later, you feel a pulse in the air, as if somebody waved a big sheet of metal right in front of your face. There’s a roar from the distance, like thunder.

…

Those adults were weird, weren’t they? Coming here and asking you to come to the House. It’s a good thing they didn’t take you! You don’t belong there! So it’s fine. You weren’t taken away anywhere, and you were the only kid on this hill tonight! You’re safe, nothing happened to you. Sure, there’s mud on your dress and your mother will be furious, but you aren’t in danger. You’re alone, safe, and those adults left without taking you to the House.

Crisis averted!

What were you doing here, again?

You look up, and only see lightless above you. Oh, but not for long! Some clouds are rolling in. They're covering the - the. The??? The something. Clouds cover something and you can't see them afterwards.

That means it'll be rainy later, right?

What a coincidence!

It rained the day you were born, too.

Chapter Text

There’s a scrap of paper at the bottom of your pocket.

First, it says you need to talk to Euphrasie about the evacuation orbs. One of them needs to be moved to the dingy, locked storage room on the third floor. Even though that sounds crazy, it's a perfectly reasonable request to you. Still, you’ve been putting this off for a few months. Both out of nerves and practicality. It’s hard to get an appointment with Euphrasie now that she’s the Head Housemaiden! And it’s scary to ask her for anything. She has so many more important things to do than to talk to you. There’s a whole House to run! 

Except, now, you’re standing at the door to her new office.

No appointment.

You’re just!! Going to walk right in!

Which definitely is not rude or presumptuous of you. Claude does it all the time, it shouldn’t be weird if you do it, too! Right? 

… But you should at least knock.

And you do.

Euphrasie’s voice comes cheering from inside. “Come in!” 

Alright. She doesn’t… sound busy. Maybe this is fine. You push the door open sheepishly.

You had never been inside of the Head Housemaiden’s office before. It wasn’t like you got in trouble with the old Head Housemaiden. Not on a level where you needed to go to her office! And she wasn’t so benevolent that she would call people up to chat for no reason. So this should freak you out, right? To be here? Except it doesn’t, because you were friends with Euphrasie before she was promoted. Although, it’s still… intimidating, on some level. You never feel right going anywhere official in the House. It always feels like you're going to get caught in the act of Changing wrong.

It’s a nice, cute, small office. Nothing crazy. Euphrasie’s still putting her own personal touches in it, so it’s a lot less terrifying than you think it’d be if this was still the office of the old Head Housemaiden. But it’s still a place of authority. No amount of fairy lights or cute little statues will change that.

Euphrasie’s changed her wardrobe a lot in the past few months. You barely recognize her at first. She looks more official, and you’re certain she crafted herself to be even taller. More ethereal, definitely. 

“Mirabelle…!” She sets aside a stack of papers to put her full attention on you. Oh no, you must be interrupting something! “It’s been too long.”

“I feel like I haven’t seen you since your promotion ceremony.” You sit down in one of the chairs across from her desk. “Claude says she also feels like that.”

“I have been working a little too hard.” She chuckles. “Perhaps I need to take more breaks.”

You’re smiling, you’re joking with her, but you’re not letting your guard down. 

Because of the second thing the paper in your pocket talks about.

There’s something wrong with the House. 

Maybe not with the House, specifically, but within the House. And Euphrasie seems to know about it. You’re not sure if she’s hiding information from you out of malice, but you also don’t think you’d be satisfied with whatever excuse she has for concealing things. It’s not like you want to distrust her, it’s just… you’ve been at the House for a couple years now. If she knows something, why hasn’t she said anything? Nobody else in the House can put a name to the problem. So it's either that everyone in the House is lying to you, or just Euphrasie is. And... you don't know which would hurt more.

You’re not assuming the worst of her, yet, but if you can’t get some answers… you won’t know what to think.

Especially because of the third thing you wrote in your note. But you need to focus on the second point before you delve too deeply into the third one. The third one makes you pass out.

“Um, you told me to write down something a few months ago… ” You slip a copy of your notes across the desk - not the full thing, just the part that talks about moving an evacuation orb. “Something for Housemaiden Siffrin?”

“Housemaiden Siffrin?” Euphrasie rests her chin in her hands, lost in thought. “Who is that, again…?”

You don’t know either. But the name sticks in your mind like peanut butter at the roof of your mouth. Whoever they are, they’re important. Euphrasie picks up the paper and reads it. There’s no recognition as she does, but there seems to be a suspicion. She nods, and files it away in a smaller pile of paper labeled in a language you don’t speak.

Then, you lose her to easy conversation. For how busy she is, she’s very willing to get lost in small talk with you! You missed this, you think, but you can’t help but feel deceived. Shouldn’t Euphrasie be looking into that note? Can’t she talk to you about what’s on it? If she needs help with whatever this is - or even if she just wants to vent about it - you’d be happy to! You want to! 

But no. You’re talking about the weather, instead.

… It all just feels like a ruse. Like she doesn’t trust you. And you know she doesn’t have to - it’s not like you’re an expert on Craft, or someone who Changes often enough to be an important figure in the House. You’re just Mirabelle. And that’s fine. But Mirabelle is getting frustrated with being sidelined when something obviously wrong is happening all around her!!! 

You reach up to scratch at the little darkless fluff of hair that’s grown on your hairline. It always burns a bit when you think too hard about the House weirdness.

Euphrasie perks up as you do. 

“Oh, that reminds me…” She slides a folded paper card towards you. “I’ve been meaning to give this to you for a while.”

You take the card. It lists the location of an openphrase lock and the phrase that loosens it. Is this the lock to the roof… ?

“Are you giving me access to the rooftop?” Nobody’s supposed to go there at night.

“It’ll be easier to find you if you’re here instead of in Dormont when you have your… episodes!” She’s being very kind, and doesn’t want to discourage your new hobby, but she’s worried for your health. You guess it’s inconvenient to pass out at night in Dormont just to look up at the ciel. Which... you've been doing an awful lot again, lately. Oops.

You slip the card in the same pocket with your secret information. You have the sneaking suspicion that they’re both related. Euphrasie’s sitting there across from you, smiling, but not offering more to say. So this might be the best you get out of this little interrogation. It would be nice if she trusted you more, if she wasn’t just going to be a blank wall in front of you… but it’s fine.

It’s okay.

Now you have a lead.

It’s up to you to make the most of it. Even if it’s hard to convince yourself that you’re up to the task.

Time for your first nighttime étoile visit on the roof.

You’re nervous! You don’t mind doing the legwork on this investigation of yours - in fact, it’s kind of exciting - but you don’t know how severely this secret is being kept yet. Is it a “you’ll get a slap on the wrist for being nosy” secret, or a “now that you know, we’ll have to kill you” secret?? 

In case it’s the second one, you bring your sword to the roof with you. 

But you also bring a blanket and a cup of tea. To keep you company in case there’s nobody here! That’s the biggest possibility, anyway. There’s probably nothing up here, and you’re being paranoid, and instead of fighting a big monster you’ll end up watching the étoiles just like you always do. Maybe this time you won’t end up in the infirmary about it. 

Shakily, you bring your lips to the lock and whisper out the openphrase. It latches open, and you can pass through to the roof.

The ciel is clear tonight.

You should have brought a coat. With how high up it is, the wind’s strong enough to sway you around on your feet. Like getting slapped in the face by a giant cold hand! The air takes little sharp bites in your lungs as you breathe in. You’re regretting all of the unnecessary items you’ve brought up. Maybe a candle would have been more productive. But also maybe it would be blown out immediately the second you took a step up here.

Your eyes always go to the same place in the ciel. Out of all of the spots you could look up at, all of the twinkling étoiles sitting up there, you’re always drawn to the same blank spot. It’s… weird, right? You’ve seen étoile charts before, and they have more étoiles than what’s up there. Is there something obscuring them?

No. It’s definitely not that. It’s because they fell, right? 

Grr - ! This is making your head hurt. You don’t have the time to pass out right at the door. Stop thinking about this, Mirabelle. You're on a mission.

There’s a small lantern light at the edge of the rooftop. Don’t think about the étoiles right now. Focus on the light instead. That’s what you need to be investigating. It could be the reason why the House is weird, right?

Whenever you read the note in your pocket, you… kind of understand. There’s some supernatural entity altering the memory of everyone in the House. Including you. So whatever you’re up against, the thing causing all of this… it’s dangerous, right? Part of you says it isn’t. That it’s as malicious as a Sadness, as rare as they are to come around. Nobody’s doing this on purpose, it’s just an unfortunate side effect of… of...?

Ugh, you have no idea.

The fact falls out of your head when you’re not looking at the note. It’s… a weird sensation to take note of. And now that you know it’s happening, it’s hard to ignore!

You step towards the light.

Don’t worry about the details yet, Mirabelle.

Focus on the light.

The source finally comes into view as you step close enough. It’s a lantern light, sitting on one of the benches near the back. From far away, the owner of the lantern is hard to make out, but… there’s no other Housemaiden in the building that short, this willing to be on the roof alone so late.

You take a step forward, remembering the third thing you wrote on the paper in the bottom of your pocket.

It was written in more of a hurry than the other parts, but it talks about Housemaiden Siffrin. How they’re connected to… all this. In whatever way they are - it’s not like you know at the moment. You’re not looking at the note.

But they’re the one with the lantern.

This has to mean something, doesn’t it?

He doesn’t notice you, at first. Too focused on their own task, which seems to be… reading? You were vaguely under the impression that they couldn’t read. Again, you have no idea where you got that impression, but it’s there. You don’t know anything about Housemaiden Siffrin until you walk into the same room as him, and then little facts about them start pinging around your brain wildly. 

Like how their hair is dyed, not naturally lightless. Or how they don’t wear Change brooches on their robes because they don’t believe in it. And how they work as an astronomer at the House - not that you know what an astronomer is - just that Housemaiden Siffrin is one. How they’re allergic to something but can’t remember what. A fruit? That Housemaiden Siffrin is just a name picked from a book at random. How he hides from other Housemaidens, and you used to think that was them being rude or shy, but - but you’re starting to suspect their reasons for hiding are more complicated than that.

The note at the bottom of your pocket pleads you to find out more about him, that you’re connected in some way. So. Good thing your talk with Euphrasie ended up leading here. It must mean you’re on the right track.

“Mi - Housemaiden Mirabelle.” Housemaiden Siffrin almost falls off the bench once he notices you approach. “How did you get up here?”

“Euphrasie said I could come up at night, now.” You try your best not to read annoyance into their surprise, but you do it anyway. “I can leave, if you want some privacy!”

“No.” He adjusts the lantern so that the light doesn’t spill out upwards. The étoiles are easier to see once he does. “If you keep passing out looking at étoiles, it’s probably better if someone stays here to watch you.”

Oh, they know about that? You must be getting a reputation for it.

“Are you sure you don’t mind if I - "

“It’s a good night to do it.” 

You nod, and start to lay down your blanket near the bench - but! Augh! Is Housemaiden Siffrin okay with that? Do they want you to do your business on the other side of the roof? Was it super presumptuous of you to settle down right here? 

Housemaiden Siffrin doesn’t change their expression, so it must be fine. Don't overthink it.

You unhook your sword from your belt. Now that you’re here, and the only person up here was Housemaiden Siffrin, the precaution feels silly. He wouldn’t do anything to you! You take a sip of your tea and lay down on the blanket. Like always, your vision snaps to the blank spot before you can soften your eyes and let them wander around the ciel. 

The roof is so high up that you don’t see any treelines around you. It’s just espace above you. No distractions. (except for the soft, nervous page turning above your head)

But it’s comforting, actually.

Having the noise of another person near you, reminding you that you aren’t alone. Housemaiden Siffrin’s presence is oddly grounding. You feel safe to pass out here! 

Is that weird to say?

“Do you have a favorite one?” Housemaiden Siffrin asks, nervously trilling as they fumble with another page in their book.

“Huh? Oh, um, no.” Maybe you had one in the past, but your memory of specific étoiles escapes you. “I don’t know a lot about them, honestly. They just look nice.”

It’s unclear whether that answer is satisfying for them or not. You can’t analyze their face from this angle, so you let it go.

The roof stretches on into silence.

It’s… nice? For as insistent as you were to come up here and solve a mystery… it feels like whenever you’re around Housemaiden Siffrin, it’s always mysteries, mysteries, mysteries. That’s just asking to associate them with frustration, isn’t it? Laying here, quietly watching the ciel next to Housemaiden Siffrin - that’s more respectful to them. Don’t just come running to them with a problem, Mirabelle. Let yourself relax. Change, let them relax, they're always so tense. He probably needs the break more than you!

Another frustrated page turn.

And then you hear a curse in another language.

You sit up, and Housemaiden Siffrin’s still on the bench, face scrunched up in confusion. Fighting some invisible book battle. For all you’ve committed to relaxing, they’re not. This book they’re reading, it’s kicking his butt. Which - of course it is! They’re holding it upside-down! How are they even - 

And then it hits you.

“I thought you didn’t know how to read,” you say, as gently as possible. 

“I - " He makes a mortified, embarrassed whine. “Don’t.”

“They have Vaugardian classes at the House,” you offer, “for adults! You don’t have to be with the really little kids.”

“I tried once, but uh…” Giving up, Housemaiden Siffrin closes the book and holds it in their lap. “It’s usually classes for people who are from, like, Porteria or Mwudu?”

“Oh.” So they really are on their own.

That’s… something isn’t sitting right with you, about that. Nobody should be alone, doing this! If you had to teach yourself how to read, you think you’d just assume you were stupid. And with how Housemaiden Siffrin squints at the text on the book’s spine, maybe they already think that. 

And they aren’t! You’ve spoken to him enough to know Housemaiden Siffrin is not unintelligent. Most people are taught to read. You can’t brute force something like this. 

“Staring at the page like that won’t do anything, you know.” You hold out your hand towards the book in their lap. “Do you want me to read some of it to you?”

“You’d do that?”

“If you can already speak Vaugardian, learning to read it shouldn’t be too hard if someone teaches you!” 

He clutches the book harder, thinking.

Their conclusion works in your favor, because they shyly lean over to set the book in your hands. You grab it and read the title. Advanced Gastronomy and You: How to Make Experimental Food Actually Taste Good.

You look at the other books they have stacked on the bench. 

Well, they’re obviously not picking books based on content… there’s a giant book just labeled as Shields, a craft book that has way too much advanced jargon on the cover for you to even begin to understand, and a thinner book from a larger encyclopedia - oh, no, that's the table of contents.

There’s nothing wrong with any of these books, but you can’t imagine learning to read from any of them...!

You excuse yourself and rush over to the library to check out some children’s books. You fight your brain a little bit to stay on task, but come back to the roof within the hour with your prize: a stack of picture books fifteen titles high. Housemaiden Siffrin watches you hopefully as you walk back, but grimaces when they see all of the books.

“Aren’t those… for babies?”

“I’m not patronizing you!” You set the books on the bench. “It’s easier to learn if you start simple.”

“But - "

“Housemaiden Siffrin.” You sit next to them on the bench and pick out the first book, which is one you liked when you were a kid - about a bear and a lake. “You’re going to burn yourself out if you start with books like that.”

They look at the bright, bubble-lettered book in your hands, and begrudgingly take it. He opens it, and…

Just stares.

Same as before.

“… Housemaiden Siffrin.” You grimace. “Do you know the Vaugardian alphabet?”

Housemaiden Siffrin refuses to look at you. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” You take the book from them. “It’s never too late to learn, you know.”

And from there, it’s… teaching him how to read! Which you’ve never done for anyone before, not even a child. You heard that it’s easier for children to learn things, but Housemaiden Siffrin takes it so easily. It turns out, having a full adult understanding of spoken Vaugardian makes learning to read it easier! It’s just having them associate words and phrases they already know to shapes on a page. They can conceptualize things like patterns and phonics a lot quicker than a child would be able to. An impossible task made easier with a friend hanging around. He even seems to enjoy the lesson!

 
That is, until, they start flagging.

Making more mistakes, speaking slower, slurring words. Breathing in and out in a practiced, clinical rhythm.

“Housemaiden Siffrin? Are you okay?”

“My head just hurts.” He shakes his head. “Keep going.”

“It’s a lot to memorize.” But they’re not going to retain any of this information if they feel bad, so you should probably stop for tonight. “Do you want to do this again next week together?”

“I - " Housemaiden Siffrin gasps and shakes their head. “No. If I don’t learn it now, it won’t happen.”

“Why not?”

“… I’ll forget to come.”

“Well, uh.” You do have a pen in your pocket! “What if we wrote it down? So that we’d both remember?”

“Really?”

You reach into your pocket and pull out your day planner. You write “TUTORING WITH HSIFFRIN ON ROOF 10PM” in big bold letters for next week. Housemaiden Siffrin doesn’t have a planner or anything, so you write it on their arm. You’re… technically not supposed to, because of ink poisoning, but these are extenuating circumstances!! 

“And if you don’t know what it says, ask somebody to read it!”

He looks at his arm, dumbfounded, but nods.

“See you next week?” you ask, one last time.

“S-see you next week.”

They’re entirely convinced this won’t work. But. You can tell they’re allowing themselves to hope, this time.

Before you head off to bed, you look at your schedule for tomorrow. It’s your busiest day, with four classes all in a row, and… 

… Oh, crab! You totally forgot! You were supposed to help tutor Housemaiden Siffrin tonight! You don’t remember putting that in your calendar, and… wow, why are you tutoring him so late at night? You’re going to miss your appointment entirely if you don’t leave right now! You rush and grab more simple books from the library before running to the roof. If you’re remembering correctly, you’re teaching Housemaiden Siffrin how to read, so you need to pick out younger books. Even if they think it’s embarrassing!

You practically shout the openphrase into the lock. You almost drop all of your books as you run to the end of the roof to meet Housemaiden Siffrin.

“Sorry for being late!”

“You - " Housemaiden Siffrin watches you, all the breath taken out of them. “You still came.”

“It took me a while to remember, my schedule’s been so busy.” Maybe you should drop a few of your classes… “It’s a good thing I wrote it down!”

“… Why didn’t I ever think of,” he mutters to himself and does a little frustrated shout into their own arm. That’s weird!

“Probably because you didn’t know how to write in Vaugardian until…” You pause. If Housemaiden Siffrin doesn’t know how to read, then - “Well, not even last week. I haven’t showed you how to write yet!”

You bring out a piece of paper and write down their name in big, bubbly letters. They sit down next to you and slowly, agonizingly, copy over what you wrote. 

“And that spells…”

His nose scrunches up as he tries to sound it out. “Seef - fur… oh, it’s me.”

“Yay!” You clap. “Can you write mine?”

Before he starts, he pulls the Vaugardian dictionary out. He flips to two different sections and starts writing furiously. It takes them a few tries to successfully get the whole thing out.

After they’re happy with it, Housemaiden Siffrin presents the paper to you.

He’s written Mirror-bell.

“Actually, that’s a very good guess, considering you’ve never written before…” You write down your own name correctly and hand it to them. “That’s how you spell it!”

It’s a longer name, so they struggle getting it down all the way. But their handwriting is good! A little shaky. They don’t… really have any pen skills. 

“Um, don’t ball up your fist like that when you hold it.” You reach out and position the pencil more nicely in their hand. They’re trying not to flinch, but it just locks up their whole hand and makes it hard for you to help.

Oh, right. You should have remembered. They don’t like being touched!

Well, the damage is done. At least they’re holding the pencil correctly. You go through the alphabet again, this time showing them how to write each letter. 

The tutoring session ends the same as the last one - a promise to do it again next week, a reminder in writing. 

“See you next week?” you ask again, packing up your things.

“See… you next week,” they confirm, more confident than last time.

Next week, you’re on time to teach Housemaiden Siffrin. You bring a big box of broken cookies from your baking class. The tutoring gets derailed at least twenty minutes by Housemaiden Siffrin insisting on going through all of them to individually make fun of each of them. You would feel self-conscious about it, but you can't help but join in.

“See you next week?” you ask at the end, like always.

“See you next week,” he nods, without any hesitation this time.

The week after that, you go early to teach Housemaiden Siffrin. You're on the roof before they are! You'll never forget that shocked look on their face as they ran to their usual spot to find you already occupying it. And then he sat in your normal spot and did a very inaccurate impression of you, so you had to do one back. It took you an hour to get on track, in the end.

“See you next week?”

This time, Housemaiden Siffrin smiles.

“See you next week!”

Your schedule is blissfully free this afternoon.

You sit in bed for a few minutes thinking of what to do. You could go take a long bath, or you could see if Toille wants to do something. He usually does! But probably not today, you hung out together fairly recently already. You shouldn’t overstay a friendship like that, Mirabelle! Maybe you could go sit in on some other class, except you’re a bit tired of classrooms lately, too…

Oh, you know what you should do! It’s not night, and it’s not one of your tutoring days, but you should see if Housemaiden Siffrin is free. It’s kind of hard to think to hang out with them, but now that you’re turning it over as an option in your head, it’s the only thing you want to do! And, sure, you only spend time with them when you’re tutoring them, but… maybe you can change that? Would he want to be friends with you outside your lessons?

They always seem so… lonely. So you should! 

But where is Housemaiden Siffrin? You don’t see them casually around the House.

Now that you’re thinking about it… you don’t think you’ve ever seen their name on any cleaning lists? Or hanging out around the dorms? They’re in class, right? You’ve definitely seen them in class, but it’s hard to think of them actually sitting down in a desk. Since they couldn’t read until a few weeks ago. But what do they do, then? Nothing comes to mind. You can’t even remember seeing them in the cafeteria. Does Housemaiden Siffrin… eat? They have to, right? It would be super weird if he didn’t! 

Well, maybe not weird. It would make you sad if they didn’t. That’s more accurate to say. 

Euphrasie knows everybody in the House, so you find her and see if you can track down Housemaiden Siffrin that way. She must have some lead for you to follow. The paper in the bottom of your pocket makes you a little suspicious of her, still, but… she wouldn’t keep something as mundane as another Housemaiden’s location away from you, unless there was something really, really wrong. 

And it’s not like you’re stalking Housemaiden Siffrin! You just want to be friends!

“Euphrasie!” You catch her in the hallway instead of her office. She must be in between tasks. “I’m looking for Housemaiden Siffrin, but I don’t know where their dorm room is.”

“Siffrin…” Her face twists up. Oh no, did you bother her while she was having a migraine? She looks like she’s in so much pain… “Do you have anything to jog my memory?”

“Um…?” That’s a weird question! Housemaiden Siffrin is pretty memorable! You’re not even sure where to start. “Well, they’re an étoile, and - "

“OH! Siffrin!” Euphrasie takes in a breath, finally able to remember. “The large room, up on the third floor? With all the windows? Try there!”

“The…” You’ve… been past that room before. But you’ve never been inside. “Why would they be there?”

“It’s where they work!”

Oh! So they do have a job, here. Most people do, that would make sense! Right, he’s an astronomer, isn’t he? You’ll have to ask them what that is when you get there. You thank Euphrasie and make your way to hang out with Housemaiden Siffrin.

You stroll around the House for a while looking for the room. It’s not a natural, linear progression. A few times, you forget what you’re doing, but you remind yourself! You’re going to talk to Housemaiden Siffrin! Even though it takes a couple hours of wandering, you remind yourself over and over again, and finally, you make it to the door to the… observatory! That’s what this place is called, right?

You knock. 

Nobody answers.

… That’s fine! You knock again.

Nobody answers. 

… Did you, um. Did you wander around too much and now they’re not here? You knock again, and - 

The door opens, with Housemaiden Siffrin behind it. They keep a tight hold on the handle, dazed and confused, not expecting any visitors. When they see you, their eyes bug out wider than you’ve ever seen.

“Housemaiden Mirabelle?”

“Housemaiden Siffrin!” You put on a big, friendly smile! 

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d visit?” You keep the smile on, although now it’s a bit forced. Oh no, did you mess up? Are you intruding, asking to hang out? “Is this a bad time?”

“It’s. It’s never a bad time.” Housemaiden Siffrin shuffles you inside the observatory. You poke your nose around, curious at all of these bits and bobs you’ve never seen before. The window on the other end of the room is huge! And there’s a telescope, too! And a globe! That makes sense. You’re starting to understand what an astronomer might be. You wonder why there’s not an orrery in here. It would make sense, with the rest of this equipment.

“What kind of work do you do here? It has to do with the ciel, doesn’t it?”

“Study étoiles?” They clean up a bunch of darkless ink and paper on the center desk. It looks like they were making a new étoile chart. “You… know what an étoile is, right?”

“I do! I love étoiles.” You realize how weird that might sound, talking directly to one. “Oh, um. But. That might be a sensitive subject for you? We don’t have to talk about it.”

All of the air feels like it’s sucked out of the room. 

“Why would it be a sensitive subject.” Housemaiden Siffrin walks up to you, way past your personal space. “Why do you think that?”

“Is… is this a trick question?” You wave your arms around, gesturing towards him. “Aren’t you a… you know!”

“Aren’t I a…?”

“An, um.” Oh, Change, how do you say this without being offensive? Is it offensive to point it out? “An étoile déchue?”

“I… am.” Housemaiden Siffrin watches you, stunned. “How do you - "

“I.” You’re not sure how you remember. You just do. “Well, it’d be weird if I didn’t remember, right? I’ve been teaching you to read for weeks!”

“But you… you came here on your own?” They’re practically hyperventilating now. You’re not sure what’s upsetting them. “Nobody told you to come? You didn't come here because it was on your planner?”

“I asked Euphrasie where you worked, but…” You want to be able to give Housemaiden Siffrin a good explanation, a good reason, but you can’t think of any. You just. Felt like being here. “I don’t know. I had a day off and I figured we haven’t hung out that much outside of tutoring, so I wanted to. Change that?”

Now you’re certain you’re doing something wrong. Housemaiden Siffrin’s stopped breathing. And then they - 

Oh, Change - Housemaiden Siffrin runs forward and grips your cloak.

“H-hey!” You don’t touch them - you know they hate that - but you freeze in their hold. “What are you - "

“You came here by yourself? You thought about me and then asked somebody where I worked and went there on your own?”

“Yes?” Were you not supposed to do that? If you weren’t, Euphrasie shouldn’t have answered your question. 

But.

Housemaiden Siffrin doesn’t look upset, at least not in a way that makes you think they’re mad that you’re here. If anything, this is… mania? Hope? Like you just came here and told them that they won a thousand gold pieces. Their grip on your robes holds tighter, and…

Isn’t it weird? Doesn’t Housemaiden Siffrin flinch when anyone gets too close to them? But right now, they have a death grip on you. Is it okay if they initiate? 

You… consider Housemaiden Siffrin’s position.

Nobody talks to them. He doesn’t have a job that puts him in front of a lot of people. The only times you’ve ever seen anyone else in the House touch them is out of malice. Like with the old Head Housemaiden, or - that one bodyguard that left the House with the interim Head Housemaiden. Otherwise, nobody interacts with him. It’s like they’re a ghost wandering the House. 

He’s lonely. 

Or - more than lonely, he wouldn’t be so desperate to hold onto you otherwise. 

Gently, carefully, so that he can pull back if he wants to, you wrap your arms around him. He holds onto you like a lifeline. You pretend not to notice a weak sobbing sound under you. 

“Siffrin,” you say, dropping his title, “do you want to go hang out?”

“Yeah.” They press their hands into their eyes. “Yeah, Mirabelle, I’d love to.”

Before you leave the observatory, you let him clean up his face. You ask him what he wants to do, and they put on an air of nonchalance. Until you hear an audible growl and decide to drag them to the cafeteria. This time, they don’t let go of you and they stay seated in the chair right next to yours, talking animatedly, saying more words than you’ve ever heard out of their mouth. 

Once they have food in them and some of the raw desperation has worn off, he cracks a wobbly looking smile. 

It drops when he thinks you’re not looking at him, but it’s better than them crying into your robes. 

They stay glued to your hip for the rest of the evening. You follow them back to the observatory and they teach you some more about espace. He does some more of his reading practice. You show them how to make tea. They show you how to use the telescope.  You both wander the halls together, exchanging bits of small talk. Siffrin seems to have gossip on every single person in the House, and you offer what little you know in return. You’re both able to extrapolate a lot of fun, new facts when you put what you’ve both observed together. It’s fun, even if it’s rude to talk about other people like this!

“Hold on, I really need to use the bathroom,” you say after a few hours, once you and Siffrin pass by the restroom. He looks like he’s about to cry. “Oh, don’t look at me like that! I won’t forget for the couple minutes it’ll take.”

“… Okay. I’ll be right here.” Siffrin sits down right outside the door. It doesn’t look like they believe you, but you can’t hold it forever.

Nothing weird happens in there! It’s just a normal bathroom break. You barely even think about it. Why would you? This is just a detour from you hanging out with your friend.

You wash up and walk back outside. Siffrin’s sitting right by the door, head over their legs. He looks hurt, but - but he was fine two minutes ago! 

“Siffrin!”

They turn their head so fast to look at you, you’re afraid their neck’s going to snap.

“Siffrin, are you okay?” You drop down to the floor to check on them, your hand going to their forehead. “You’re even paler than usual, are you sick?”

He gives you that same look as before - that desperate mania, where it doesn’t even look like they believe what’s happening in front of them. Like they’ve just woken up from a too-good-to-be-true dream. Like they’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to laugh and turn around and leave them in the dust.

“You remember me?”

“Yes?” Why wouldn’t you? “We’ve been hanging out all day, Siffrin, what’s - "

Siffrin sobs, and you reach forward to hug them again on instinct. 

Chapter Text

“Well.” Toille stops as you both reach the door to your room. “That wasn’t what I expected.”

You fail to hide your big, huge grimace. “Sorry.”

“No! It helped!” Toille reaches out to give you a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but thinks better of it. “That’s why you wanted to, right? To just try it out?”

“Um… yes.” You think. 

“… I don’t want to pretend like it didn’t happen, but - " He offers you a friendly, wiggly smile. “I do still want to be friends!”

“Oh, thank Change! I want to be friends, too!” You let out a big sigh in relief. You didn’t know what you’d do if this burned a bridge with Toille! “But I’d actually like to forget it happened. I’m sorry.”

He laughs, once. “That bad?”

“I, um - " You try to come up with a good reason why it was bad without being mean to him specifically. “I just must not like men!”

“Must not.” It looks like he’s got something else to say to you in response, but holds his tongue. Instead, Toille shrugs and grins. “That’s fine, I don’t think I like women either.”

Oh, good. So it’s totally normal and fine for you to be completely disgusted by kissing your friend. He’s just not your type! That’s it! That’s a perfectly good reason for your skin to be crawling off of your bones right now!! It’s just a type thing, it doesn’t have anything to do with your total, absolute, embarrassing inability to Change.

Or, maybe not inability. You’re learning a lot of new things about yourself, today.

Because… ugh. You were a different person on that date. You could tell! And Toille could tell! And that other person, she - she was awful. Who the crab was that!! She let her best friend walk all over her, clammed up when she had to say anything even a little bit unsavory, and was just… tiny. You thought Mirabelle was non-confrontational? She was on a whole other level! Walking around pretending that she wanted to get back into weaving just because Toille was interested in it? Ordering an entirely different meal because he said his sister was allergic to the one you wanted?

You… never want to do that again.

Which is going to be hard, because you’re absolutely going to have to do it again. Someday. For somebody.

But. 

You tried! You tried, so you could probably put off going on another date for… a year! Nobody would blame you for taking a year off of dating after you had a bad one, right? That’s a perfectly reasonable amount of time to mourn a bad date. 

So you hug Toille goodbye, and promise to never show him that weird version of Mirabelle ever again. And then you stand by your door. 

Oh, this is going to be difficult.

Claude and Siffrin said they’d wait for you to get back, and… they’re probably just going to tease you. Right? Or they’ll ask questions, and if you don’t lie to them, they’ll think - they’ll know it’s stupid. Because you fumbled a date with a very good friend of yours in the stupidest, most embarrassing way. There’s no recovering from that. You might as well get this over with now, and then they can both laugh at you, and then they’ll forget about it in a few hours.

You take a big breath in, and out.

And then you open the door.

As usual, when you get to your room, Claude’s trying out some insane thing on Siffrin. Right now, she’s measuring him for some reason, but you walk past that half of the room and fall onto your bed. 

“Ouch.” Siffrin escapes out of Claude’s clutches and sits next to you. “That bad?”

“I’ll get the cake,” Claude offers. She runs to her half of the room and pulls a little pastry box out.

“You got me a cake?” That’s so nice…! You feel bad for assuming they’d make fun of you, now.

“Hey, no matter how that went, you would have deserved it, right?” Siffrin knocks his shoulder against yours. 

It’s been a few months since you’ve been able to hold Siffrin in your head when you’re not directly next to them. His behavior is completely different now - you had no idea he was so animated! They used to be so unhappy all the time, hiding from other Housemaidens. Hard for him to do that when they want to hang out with you, so he just… doesn’t hide as much, anymore. And, now, selfishly, you’re glad to have another friend to help you through this.

Claude hands you the pastry box, and you accept it. Cake would be good right now. You open the box, and a little bright one-serving cake sits inside that says, “who needs men?”

You laugh, hollow. “Oh, you were betting against me?”

Claude pulls out two other pastry boxes and two forks. “Nah, I was prepared for every eventuality. Siffrin, here.”

Siffrin takes one of the boxes. You sneak a peek inside. That one says, “congrats on your new boyfriend!” 

“What does the third one say?” You don’t know how the date could have ended in a third way.

“Secret.” Claude scoops up all the top icing and eats it in one bite, to destroy the evidence.

Rude! In another universe, that would have been your cake. You should be able to know what it says!! What your fate could have been!!!

You stab your fork into your sarcastic little cake and scoop up a bite. Strawberry and chocolate! What a nice choice. It’s not your favorite - if you’re going to have chocolate you’d rather it not be baked into a cake, it tastes better when it’s on its own - but it does the job. And it soothes the aching, bubbling feeling at the pit of your stomach. Oh, Change, were you hungry? You guess you didn't eat a lot at dinner.

“Better?” Siffrin asks, not as much eating their cake as much as they’re stuffing it into their own face. Like a hamster. 

It’s hard not to crack a smile. Claude and Siffrin’s antics wore away the worst of your oncoming panic attack, but cake fixes everything. Well. Maybe not. But this time, it worked!

Once Claude finishes her cake, she grabs her coat and makes her way for the door. “I’m gonna go hang with Euphie.”

You manage to hide your disgust until Claude’s out of the room. Siffrin raises a suspicious brow at you.

“What’s that all about?”

“It’s just - " You fiddle with your fork, scooping up a few errant, useless crumbs. “I don’t… Claude and Euphrasie are already friends, right? Why would they want to… do anything else?”

Siffrin shrugs. “You went on a date with your friend.”

“He asked!” Your face burns. “It would be rude to say no.”

“It literally wouldn’t?” Siffrin’s grin goes a bit evil. “Do you know how many times I’ve walked around, seeing people breaking up and reject each other? When they can’t see me? Mirabelle, it happens all the time.”

Well, if it happens all the time…! 

Blech. It still doesn’t feel nice. 

“You said your type was… gas giants? Once?” Since you’ve known Siffrin, it’s a lot easier to talk about space. It doesn’t feel like rocks are in your mouth when the topic comes up anymore! “That was a joke, right?”

“Kind of?” Siffrin chews on the tines of their fork. “It’s not like I remember a lot about my orbit, but I think I had a lot of them hanging around.”

“But you don’t know what your people type is,” you say, jealous that Siffrin has the ability to not think about any of that in any capacity. You wish you had the luxury of having a free pass to not date anyone. How does he do it?

“Nah.” They kick their feet in the air a little, lost in their own thoughts. “Seems weird to do that when nobody knows who I am.”

… Except you know who Siffrin is. You scoot away from them a smidge. He laughs.

 
“Mirabelle.” Siffrin snorts. “It’s never going to be like that, don’t worry.”

What a relief…! That your relationship with Siffrin won’t Change into something you don’t want. “Good, because I love you so much but not like that - "

He nods. “Being with your sponsor is like being with your boss. That’s weird.”

“Claude is with her boss,” you observe, gesturing towards the door.

“And that’s weird.”  

You nod. It is weird. You finish off your cake and collapse the box in your hands. Siffrin follows you and clumsily mimics your box breakdown. Crumbs get all over your bed.

“Siffrin.”

“You didn’t tell me not to eat on your bed this time so it’s fine.” As an apology, he takes your box from your hands and goes to dispose of it. “Anyway, Claude had another thing she wanted to test.”

“Oh, am I a part of it?” Then you’ll have to delay the experiment. And as much as you can hold Siffrin in your mind, your memory around them still isn’t perfect. “It’s too bad she left…”

“Nah. I can do it without her.” Siffrin drags the little stool Claude has all across the dorm to your half of the room. It clatters and rattles with every step they take. He pulls it in front of your bed and hoists themselves onto it. “So. How strong’s your memory?”

“Outside of remembering you?” You shrug. It’s hard to judge that properly. You don’t have any frame of reference outside your own brain. “It’s… fine? I still have to take a lot of notes in class, but not because I don’t memorize things but because I need extra time to review.”

Siffrin nods, hand dug in one of their pockets. Contemplating something. 

Oh, you know how Siffrin works now! You need to fill the silence more, give them some time to think all the way through on whatever problem they have. “And, I started to remember you for the first time because I was writing our appointments down!” Also because of the note in your pocket, which you don’t need as much anymore. You didn’t even write down anything that was super helpful, anyway. It was enough to get you to investigate, at least.

“Okay. Cool.” He nods again, more determined. “So if I got you a gift, would looking at it remind you of me?”

“A gift?” Now that they mention it - you should give something to Siffrin too. “Even if it doesn’t, I think it would be fun for us to exchange gifts…!”

Siffrin’s hand comes out of their pocket, showing a small box. “Too bad, because I already have mine.”

“No fair!” You puff out your cheeks comically. “Traitor! Heathen! Cheater!”

He grins, and slips the box back into their pocket. “Well, now it sounds like you don’t want it.”

“Nooooo I want a Siffrin gift!” You sniffle, big and overdramatic. “Please, Siffrin, I want a Siffrin gift…!”

“Okay, okay!” Finally, Siffrin hands you the box. It’s not any bigger than the palm of your hand, and it’s one of those cheap jewelry boxes that doesn’t have a hinge, where you know you’ll have to shimmy the bottom out from the top since they’re always on so tight that there’s some kind of vacuum seal.

It’s not wrapped. This isn’t disappointing to you, it’s just… you wonder if Siffrin knows that presents are usually wrapped. If they’ve ever seen a present in context. If anyone’s ever given them one. He’s so proud of his idea of giving you a gift, you wouldn’t dream of rejecting it, but you almost want to - just so that their first gift exchange isn’t one-sided.

But you won’t. 

Siffrin looks too excited.

After shimmying the box apart, you find your Siffrin gift. 

Four little drops of metal, in two pairs - both identical, one round shape accompanying a teardrop shape. They look like they’re supposed to be - 

“Are these earrings?”  

Siffrin nods.

You almost, almost panic - but then you remember what Siffrin said not even five minutes ago, that they have zero romantic feelings for you or anyone else in the House. So. It’s probably not that. Unless that was a ruse? But when Siffrin jokes, they show their hand too quickly, laugh their head off their shoulders. And as mean as his jokes can be, accidentally, they’re never this mean. 

… Siffrin doesn’t know a lot about Vaugarde, still. What if - 

“Do you know what bonding is, Siffrin?”

They shake their head.

“Okay - " You relax. This isn’t a proposal. “Siffrin, we need a talk later - but okay!! I guess it’s not that!!!”

“But also you can’t even see them if they’re on your ears.” Siffrin gestures to where your brooches sit on your robes. “I got them so you could put them on your brooches.”

“Oh!! Oh, that’s a good idea!” You hook the earrings into the bottom pin in your brooch. The drops fall down below the circles and go ding-ding cutely when you move around enough. They’re the same tone of metal as the brooches are, so it looks like they were meant to be there all along. 

You reach down and fiddle with one of the drops with your finger. “Why this shape?”

“’Cause your hair kind of looks like a cloud since it started growing back.” He makes a little gesture around his head. “So now it’s like a raining cloud.”

“That’s. Adorable.” You’re flattered. Siffrin doesn’t normally put too much thought into fashion or appearances, so the fact he came up with something that cute which fits exactly into what you normally wear - it’s nice! To feel known! “I am never taking these off.”

He laughs. “That’s the point??”

Maybe, but you meant it in a different way! You can see this becoming a sentimental piece for you instead of just a big, loud reminder. 

“I’ll get you something that rings too!” You smile brightly, happy to make this promise with them. “So that whenever I hear your ringing, I remember that my brooches ring, and then it jogs my memory!”

“So both of us will make funny noises?”

“Yes!” You ring your brooches for emphasis. “We could have a fun team name! Like… um… ”

They lean forward, cheeky. “The Ding-Ding Duo?”

You smile and do the same. “The Funny Noises Appreciation Crew?”

“The Chiming Chums,” he suggests next, and you both laugh. That's an awful name for it.

A couple of days later, you’re sent out to the market to get some supplies for the House. You stop by the jeweler too and get a little bell on a chain. When you get back, you tie it to the clasp on Siffrin’s robe, right on his hip. You can tell it annoys some of the other Housemaidens to hear the ringing and the jangling in the halls, but - 

But it makes Siffrin happy. 

So it’s worth it. 

You go to this month’s practical Piercing Craft class in your regular gear. You have a real sword - you made one in a smithing class, and it works very well for actual combat - but as unhinged as the Housmaiden that oversees combat practice is, she doesn’t let people use real bladed weapons for sparring.

So you have your trusty little foil by your side! Everyone knows it’s yours because you put pretty little keychains on it, so you could leave it in the lockers, but in your head your foil and your real sword are in a heated slowburn together, so you wouldn’t dare remove them from each other. Not yet! 

When you get into the class, you notice Siffrin in the corner. Oh, that’s good! He’s coming to classes! They wave at you. You return the wave and run towards them.

“Siffrin!” You set your exercise bag on the ground and get out your water bottle. “Do you want to partner up? I don’t normally have a sparring partner and it’s your first week here so I thought - "

“Mirabelle.” Siffrin rolls his eyes. “You have a sparring partner.”

“Oh, Change.” You dig your face into your arm. “Was it you this whole time?”

“It was.” They laugh. Now, your old memory problems are a comedy of errors to him. At least it’s not traumatizing! 

You take in a breath and start stretching. Siffrin joins you. They’ve gotten into the habit of taking your lead on most things. The combat coach calls out some suggestions to you and Siffrin as you get ready, but isn’t paying much attention to you. There’s some younger kids from Dormont here today who are trying to learn self-defense, and they need a lot more direction than you.

That’s fine! You’ll just go through some normal drills with Siffrin.

“What do you usually practice with?” 

“The same thing you have?” Siffrin reaches into a locker that you always thought was locked shut and pulls out one of the House’s training foils. “Whatever this is called.”

“A foil, it’s the practice version of a rapier,” you explain, and turn yours over in your hands. The keychains clang on it as it moves. “But I should probably practice against other weapons? When it’s too rapiers against each other that’s just fencing.”

And you don’t really want Siffrin to get into the habit of just going along with whatever you’re doing! He should pick a weapon he’s excited about, not just what you have!

“So it’s more practical if I pick something else?”

“Yeah,” you nod, worried that they’re not catching onto the whole independent opinion thing, “and you should try something that fits you better!”

Siffrin waggles their foil in the air. “Oh, what, you don’t think I’m doing this right?”

“YOU, HOUSEMAIDEN T - S - " The coach stutters at the front of the room, unable to produce Siffrin’s name. “Safety, safety!”

“Fine!” Siffrin lowers the sword below their waist. The coach goes back to paying attention to the gaggle of children in front of her.

“Well, you’re holding it in a fist,” you say, since the teacher isn’t paying attention to you anymore, “you’re supposed to hold it with your fingers.”

“Like a pencil?”

“Kind of? But balanced differently.” You hold out yours and demonstrate the correct hold. “You want to keep your wrist in a straight line with your forearm so you don’t hurt it.”

“But if you don’t want me to use it,” he sighs out overdramatically and tucks the foil back inside their locker. You follow them to the practice weapons storage closet. There are so many barrels and chests full of fake weapons in here!

It’s not as impressive as the armory, because none of the edges of blades here are real. And the heavier weapons like hammers are made of foam. But they all look real and feel real, since crafting nonlethal versions of weapons is part of the higher-level smithing class. They’re all weighted the same as their real counterparts, but with some subtle differences.

If you had any need to use your real rapier more often, you’d be better at describing the difference.

But really, the only combat you do is on gymnastic mats with fake weapons!

You look over Siffrin’s shoulder as they inspect the weapons. “So what are you picking?”

“What about…” Siffrin digs up a sword that takes up the entire length of his torso, and wider than him too! “This?”

“That’s so cool!” But their arms are shaking as they pick it up. “Can you lift that?”

They lift it off the floor three centimeters. 

“Um.” You try not to laugh at them. “Something lighter weight?”

Siffrin nods, and picks up a big scythe. It’s twice their height. 

“You look so scary with that,” you say, and mean it as a compliment. “Can you stay on balance with that?”

He swings it and falls flat on his face.

“Let’s get you something lighter,” you suggest after helping him to his feet and healing the little scratch on their nose. You’re not being the most subtle when you push them to the light weapons part of the closet.

He digs out a shortsword and swings it around a bit. They also find a sickle and whirl it around, entertained with how they can do little tricks with it. You get him to pick up a few more, so that they can practice with all of them and decide their favorite!

You’re the best opponent for them to figure out their weapon preferences. Your foil has a long range, and the one problem with shorter weapons is that you need to get up really close to your opponent. They’re learning these weapons with the weapon type they’d be weakest against. All you’d have to do to win is keep him right outside of their weapon range.

But you don’t! You want to help him figure out how to use these weapons, so you leave more openings out than usual, you slow yourself down. You definitely don’t have to - Siffrin is ridiculously quick! - but they should learn how to do it slow and correct before being expected to do it fast. 

They pick up a wiggly looking dagger and tap you almost as soon as you say “go.” 

“Wow!” You weren’t even letting him win, that time. “That one looks like it works.”

“It doesn’t slow me down so much,” they say, shrugging off their own surprise. He touches the fake blade, frowning. “I don’t really like the shape though?”

“Well, we at least know what weight class you work best in,” you say, forcing yourself not to remember how it took you months and months to be accurate with your foil. 

“What is this?” Siffrin asks, holding the short blade in the air.

“That’s a dagger,” you say, doing your best not to judge him for not knowing. It’s technically your job to teach them things, their ignorance reflects more on you. “You should go to one of the smiths and see all of the different kinds! It might take you some time to find one you really, really like - but it’s kind of like a personality test!”

Siffrin grins at you cheekily. “What do you think I’d do best with?”

“I’m not letting you cheat off my answers!”

He laughs, and you’re about to join in, but then some of the kids at the other end of the room start shouting. Seems like one of them took a hard fall. You rush over to help heal the big, nasty scrape, and then nobody’s much in the mood for combat practice anymore. 

You’re really taking too many classes, lately. You barely have time to hang out with Siffrin during the day, much less the rest of your normal-memory friends. You’re up on the roof nearly every clear night, because you really do like to go stargazing - but also it’s some of the only uninterrupted Siffrin time you can get. And he doesn’t say it, but you know they’re missing you dreadfully when you’re off in class. Some classes you share with him, sure - your Piercing Craft ones especially - but you sign up for most random little trade class you find. Siffrin can’t keep up with your schedule with their job.

And he’s busy too, making a new, modern star chart. Trying to figure out how many stars are missing out of the sky, at what rate they’re falling down. That is, literally, their job. It would be silly if they dropped their entire job to only follow you around. Their feelings on the House aside, he really does care about the work.

But! Today! You have a few hours that are blissfully free, so you immediately go to seek Siffrin out. 

It’s early enough that he’s at work, so you walk that way - but, actually, you find them in the hallway first. He’s carrying a stack of papers under his arm.

“Siffrin!” You smile and walk in the direction they’re going. He’s walking purposefully, like he’s got somewhere to be. “I was just looking for you!”

“Really,” they say, taking comfort in your unprompted thought of them, even if that’s something that happens often now.

“Do you want to hang out?”

Siffrin stops cold in the hall.

“I, um.” They grasp at their own robes, refusing to look at you in the eye. “Can’t.”

“That’s okay!” You’re not offended - it’s good for Siffrin to have things to do outside of you, after all! You do lots of things without them. “Busy schedule?”

“Not as busy as yours.” They hesitate, and wiggle their set of papers in the air. “I just, um. Now that I can read, I signed up for a couple classes?”

“As in, you’re not just sitting in on them?” You take a step closer to Siffrin in disbelief. “You signed up with your name and everything?”

“… Yeah.” He hides behind their papers. “Is that weird?”

“NO????” You’re gasping, unable to stop yourself from bouncing on your heels excitedly. “THAT’S SO NORMAL????”

“You’re not acting like it’s normal.”

“Well, for you - !”  

“I’ve been to classes before!”

“But you didn’t sign up for any of them, you didn’t have a name to sign up for and…” You pause - Siffrin’s eyes are wide, afraid. You need to tone it back a bit. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be overbearing!! I’m happy for you, Siffrin.”

They let out a big breath in, and out. 

Were they… worried you’d be jealous?

“Th-thanks.” He walks down the hall again, and you follow him - might as well walk them to class! “It’s my first day, and I have two in a row, so…”

Oh! He really filled his schedule, then. “Which classes?”

“Trap design and woodworking?” They shrug. “Kind of picked them at random.”

Yeah, those wouldn’t draw your eye so much! But you’ve taken plenty of classes that you didn’t think you’d be enthusiastic about going in, and then they were your favorite! Maybe Siffrin will have the same experience.

And. To be completely honest. They really do need more hobbies. Preferably ones that you do not have. They’re a little short on independence! Before you could remember them, he was too independent, but now - now it’s good he reaches out!! But also they need to learn to be their own person, too. Even if it takes them away from you a little bit. 

You get Siffrin safely to their first class in the trap room. It’s a tiny class - there’s only two other people in the room besides the teacher - but that might be good for Siffrin. Maybe their classmates will end up with some lingering memory of Siffrin. He’s more willing to talk to Housemaidens that aren’t Euphraise these days, so it’s only a matter of time before someone else in the House gets close enough to Siffrin to have a semi-accurate memory of them.

… You’re still not entirely sure how that works. There’s a piece you’re missing. But you’re not Claude, you’re not the one studying this enough to know what exactly is going on. So you leave it to the experts. Who are not you. 

Claude seems to think your ability to keep a hold of Siffrin even when they’re not in the room is something that can’t be replicated. And. Selfishly. You revel in that feeling, a little. You should feel awful! Siffrin can’t have friends the same way anyone else in the world can, and you’re worried that if they get some, you won’t be as important?

Well. 

It’s not an unfounded worry.

You make a friend.

They Change, and expect you to soon after.

You don’t.

They can’t understand you.

You slowly drift apart.

 
No, Mirabelle, no! That’s ridiculous. That was a stupid little mantra you had in your head when you were a kid.

… But it was a stupid little mantra that made you wish for company.

And that company was Siffrin. Which is nice, because the two of you get along! Very, very well! You’re actually kind of perfect for each other. He’s not interested in Changing, so they’re not going to expect you to. You know Siffrin doesn’t think of anyone they’ve met in any romantic light, so you’re not going to lose him to a partner. 

Did you…

…

Is Siffrin the way they are because they’d always be like that, no matter what? Or did your wish make them into somebody that they wouldn’t be otherwise? He doesn’t have memories from when he was a star - he wasn’t technically a person, so… so are they only perfect for you because you made them like that? And, and you tore Siffrin out of his home. Is it… weird, that you’re best friends? Are you trapping them?

 
… 

This isn’t a good path to go down, you think.

Time to go find something else to do with your day off.

Euphrasie insists on having monthly House-wide dinners with every Housemaiden crammed into the cafeteria. Lots of people use it as a mini-Change festival, announcing a new name or that they’re going on leave to Change in the next month, but it’s also an excuse to see everyone that you don’t normally talk to. 

She also gives a little speech right before you sit down to eat! It’s nice to hear the news about the House - bonding announcements, renovations, communications from other Houses across the country. Sure, it can be a reminder of how much you’re not Changing, but there are different names brought up in different months. And it happens so often that you’re desensitized to not hearing your name! Or Siffrin’s name, for that matter. 

So you just listen to what Euphrasie has to say, calmly, and - 

“I also want to announce a milestone our little Mirabelle has hit!” 

HUH? YOU? YOU’RE PART OF IT THIS TIME?

What… did you do? You’re not Changing. Your name’s the same, your pronouns, your body, your earrings - is Euphrasie going to make up something on the spot? 

“Mirabelle has officially taken the most amount of classes out of anyone in any of this House’s history,” Euphrasie explains, clapping as she does. The other Housemaidens politely clap along with her. 

Oh, crab, Fontaine used to hold that record… it was easy for her to do since she grew up here. You… really must be taking too many classes. Oops. But - ! It’s not like you have a formal job at the House, so… it’s something you’re doing with your time, right? You’re not the only scholar in the House.

Actually, with taking so many classes, that probably is your job at this point, ha…

Euphrasie continues, “and, next week, she’s leading a seminar about what taking all of those classes has taught her over the years!”

WHAT?

What? What? You didn’t agree to that. You look to your right, and Siffrin’s stifling a laugh. You look to your left, and Claude shrugs at you sympathetically. The rest of the cafeteria has the nerve to look excited about your upcoming lecture.

Uh oh. 

Doesn’t look like you can drop out of this one.

After the speech, you run up to Euphrasie’s table during dinner. She smiles and waves as you approach. 

It’s not that you don’t… trust Euphrasie anymore, but you kind of don’t. Even though you know about Siffrin, even when she knows about Siffrin, she’s keeping a lot of information close to her chest. She has a lot of duties as the Head Housemaiden, so you don’t… bother her with your weird sponsor problems. It’s like she’s privy to some big plan that you’re not supposed to know about. 

But you can ask her about the seminar. Because what the crab is that about??

“Euphrasie, um… " You laugh a little, your shoulders so tense they’re brushing the bottom of your ears. “What do I say in the seminar?”

“Whatever you want!” Euphrasie nods, completely oblivious to your issue with her impromptu seminar idea. “I’m sure you’ve learned a lot about yourself in those classes, right? They’ve helped you along a change?”

If they did, it wouldn’t take you this long to Change, would it?

“Has anyone else ever given a seminar like this?” you ask, hoping that would at least get you into the right direction.

“Nope!” 

… Thanks, Euphrasie. 

Whatever. Whatever! This is probably… a test, right? Head Housemaidens are supposed to challenge and push their subordinates, especially the ones that stagnate too much. Are… you stagnating? 

You should ask Fontaine what she learned from her classes. 

She’s near the back of the cafeteria, with her partner and a bunch of her friends. She laughs softly as you approach.

“Mirabelle, I didn’t know you were going for my record!” 

“Sorry…” You didn’t mean to! All you did was take classes that interested you!

“No, no, it’s okay.” Realizing this might be a touchy subject, Fontaine pulls back her teasing. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m certain. Besides, I have a lot more to worry about these days other than a silly record,” she says, letting her eyes wander to her partner sitting next to her. 

“Huh?” 

“Did… oh, I must not have told you - " Fontaine holds her own stomach fondly. “I’m having a baby!”

A baby.

Oh! 

Right, right, people… do that. 

You wipe the shock off of your face and grin brightly. “Oh, Fontaine…! That’s amazing! I’ll have to start knitting some little hats!”

“Would you really?” She looks like she’s about to cry from the offer. “Mirabelle, you have no idea how much that means to me.”

Well, you do have an idea. Fontaine didn’t have any family when she came to the House, so… hm. Maybe you need to make more than a couple little measly baby hats. Be a more supportive friend, Mirabelle…! 

Or.

Are you friends with Fontaine?

You haven’t spoken to her in… a while. You haven’t caught up with her much after she got bonded. Have you known all of the Housemaidens in Dormont for long enough that they’re getting tired of your weird, unchanging self already? 

You don’t end up asking much about the seminar. You listen to Fontaine talking about her partner, her new baby, the Changes she’s planning on making to herself after the baby’s born - she’s considering switching to one of her masculine names, actually, because her partner wants to be Mom, and she’s a little curious about being called Dad, and - and - and - !

It’s just.

She’s Changing as if it’s easier than breathing for her.

By the time you’re done talking to Fontaine about her baby, most of the other Housemaidens are done with dinner. Claude’s already gone, probably off with Euphrasie like usual. Siffrin waits by your still-full plate, concerned. 

“Your dinner got cold,” they say with a weird hesitance in their voice.

“Fontaine is pregnant,” you answer as you sit down. You try not to make it sound so aggressive, but… it comes out that way, a little.

“What’s that?” Siffrin asks, grinning. 

“Siffrin.” You put your fork down and rest your forehead on the table. “I made you go to that health sciences class, you know what that is.”

“Alright, no jokes.” He slides your plate nearer to you. It’s not appetizing anymore because of how ice-cold it is, but you start eating anyway. “Isn’t that a good thing? That’s something someone her age is supposed to do?”

“She’s only a few years older than me, Siffrin.” 

“Oh.” He pulls a grossed-out face. “Do I need to worry about that?”

“You’re not a Housemaiden.” You stick your fork into your lamb and pull back enough for a bite. It’s tough, now that you let it rest for too long. “You don’t have to.”

“And… you… also don’t have to?”

“Well - “ You stuff a few awful bites into your face just to say you ate. “I mean, I should probably surrogate for someone, right? Even if I don't have any for myself? I should do it at least once.”

Siffrin watches you, horrified. 

“Because how else am I going to Change?” You’re crying. Change, you’re crying. “I - I’m the only Housemaiden here that hasn’t… who hasn’t… "

Absently, you hear the scurried footsteps of a few Housemaidens that had straggled in the cafeteria. Great. You scared them all away by being emotional. Maybe if you could change something about yourself, it should be that. Siffrin lets you take a few more pitiful bites of food before speaking up again.

“Do you want to be here?” Siffrin gestures around the cafeteria. “In the House, I mean.”

“I do.” That’s one thing you know for certain. “Even if I’m the worst Housemaiden in Vaugarde, I-I… this has been my home, Siffrin, I can’t go back to Dormont.”

“And has anyone told you you’re doing it wrong?”

“No, but…” You can make the connections yourself. All of your higher-level Change classes, the way everyone looks at you during festivals, how Changes are tracked in the House and despite your efforts, you’re still ranked underneath Siffrin.

It’s not a lack of faith, not a lack of attempts, it’s just…

“Even people who aren’t Housemaidens Change, what if…” Your vision is fully blocked by tears now. Your lap is damp. “What if I’m just bad at being a person?”

Siffrin is silent for enough time that you think he’s agreeing with you. They have every right to - you were so bad at being a person, you forced them to be one with you. They shouldn’t have to stay here and comfort you. He should be back home. But, no, you had to be lonely, you had to be selfish, you had to trap him here and force them to be friends with you - 

Siffrin cuts through your spiral. “Would a bad person knit a baby hat for someone that’s been ignoring them for a year?” 

“I - I haven’t done that yet.” You just said you would.

“You wouldn’t have taught me to read if you were a bad person.”

“I don’t mean I’m a bad person, I mean bad at being a person, Siffrin.” There’s a difference. Mirabelle is kind. Mirabelle is nice. But that’s all she is.

“I don’t Change - "

You have, you have at least twice already, you want to say, but that’s rude, so you shut your mouth and listen.

“ - so is that bad?”

“You’re not a Housemaiden.”

“But you just said people who aren’t Housemaidens Change too.” Siffrin leans closer, their expression more intense than you can handle right now. “So which is it?”

He - he’s right. Siffrin usually is. You’re being ridiculous, you’re setting contradicting standards, but - but! But what else are you supposed to do? Be like this the rest of your life? Learn to be okay with being ten steps behind everybody else in the world? 

You’re not breathing, and you know this, and you know you should stop and breathe. But you can’t. Because you’re just Mirabelle, and Mirabelle is so weak and timid that she breaks at even the slightest hint that she’s not doing something right. It’s a cycle, you know - the House doctor has told you about it enough times - you feel like you can’t breathe, and that makes you feel worse, which means you can’t breathe, which makes you feel worse - and it’ll spiral down and down until you’re laying on the floor, limbs heavy and weak.

But you’re at least mature enough to have your panic attacks on the inside. 

Nobody else needs to know how pathetic you are. 

You’d just be pushing your problems on everyone else.

Maybe that’s why they Change and leave you. Maybe they see how bad they would be if they stayed stagnant, say “I’m not doing that,” and Change to run away from you. You’re just so pathetic, so weak, so useless, that nobody else wants to be around you.

“I’m - I’m doing this wrong.” Siffrin flinches away from you and hides their face. “Sorry, you - I - I don’t really know - you’re upset and I should help, but - "

“Siffrin, it’s alright.” You keep all your panic inside. You know you’re being unreasonable. That’s not Siffrin’s fault. “I’m being a brick wall right now. That’s unfair. You’re helping.”

He doesn’t believe you.

They shouldn’t, but it’s still frustrating.

You took an acting class a while back - shouldn’t you be better at hiding this?

Siffrin watches you another minute, considering you. Probably wondering who they need to pass you off to so you can be fixed. Too bad for him, you’re not sure any person like that exists. Eventually, he takes both your hands and squeezes them gently.

“Roof time?” they ask, their voice soft.

“Roof time.” That’s not the worst idea in the world. It might calm you down.

You take one step forward out of the cafeteria, and seconds later Siffrin’s opening the door to the roof. They even have your stargazing blanket in their hands - oh. It’s probably really bad that you don’t remember the whole trip here, including stops, but it’s not like you have the energy to care right now. 

Siffrin lays the blanket down exactly how you do it for yourself, and they sit you down on it. You take the time, away from any potential prying eyes of wandering Housemaidens, to let the tether of your own self-presentation snap. Just be Mirabelle. Even if Mirabelle is off-putting or a human doormat, be her. 

You look up at the sky. Your eyes snap to the empty spot where Siffrin fell from.

Don’t think about that.

It’ll just make you feel worse, right now.

And if you stare at a single star too hard, you might bring another star down.

Instead, you refuse to focus on any star or constellation in particular. You let your eyes glaze over the night sky. Finally away from the cafeteria, you can breathe properly. With every new breath, the soreness in your limbs grows. It should hurt, you should panic about that more, but now it serves as a reminder that you weren’t yourself two minutes ago.

The House doctor says it’s normal to be unreasonable and unkind to yourself during a panic attack. Try not to blame yourself so much. It can happen to anyone. 

It happens to you more often than you’d like, but…

At least it’s an explanation.

“So what does good at being a person mean,” Siffrin asks, once he’s certain you’re calm, “and how do we get you there?”

“I’m not even sure where to start.” You take a big breath in and out, just like Siffrin does. “I should be able to Change, right?”

“Do you want to?”

No. “Yes.”

“Okay, uh… you could cut your hair again?”

You pat at it. “I like how it’s shaping up.”

“Changing your wardrobe again?” they suggest - right, yes, you used to do that a lot more… 

“I don’t want to now.” You swipe at your brooches. They go ding-ding. “I just coordinated everything with this.”

“I shouldn't have - "

“No!” You turn your head to face Siffrin. “No, I’m glad you gave them to me.”

Siffrin nods, and looks back up at the sky. You do, too. The two of you fall into silence again. Neither of you know what to say to the other, right now. You’re impossible. Siffrin’s doing their best, and you’re just… 

…

Stop thinking like that. You’ll give yourself another panic attack.

“Um.” Siffrin whispers, afraid to break the silence. “Some Changes are slow.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing ever stays the same up there either.” He points. “It takes millions of years to Change when you’re a star. And the Universe does it for you.”

“I don’t have millions of years,” you say, suddenly jealous of a crabbing star. 

“Yeah? Does it look like I do, anymore?” Siffrin lets out a frustrated breath. “Just because everyone else is moving faster than you doesn’t mean you’re not moving.”

This is the nicest, most straightforward praise you’ve ever gotten from Siffrin.

They aren’t normally able to construct something this comforting. This is probably the most human conversation you’ve ever had with them. Not through any fault of their own - their emotional intelligence was definitely stunted when they were ripped away from you, and his insistence on hiding from every other Housemaiden didn’t help either. But this is new from them. It’s a special, genuine honor to hear this from Siffrin.

So you should be over the moon.

And yet, you can’t bring yourself to believe a single thing he’s saying.

You just lay there, empty.

Chapter Text

“Sif-frin!” 

Usually Siffrin is incredibly happy to get called by name unprompted, but he’s already started his reading practice for tonight. Their head is almost entirely engulfed in a big newspaper from a few towns over. You sit down next to them on the bench, curious.

“Siffrin, what’s that?” They still have trouble reading complicated text. If they’re actually reading the newspaper unassisted, you’re impressed. This one… isn’t from Dormont. You know that. When you lived in town, the closest thing you had to a newspaper was Brando, who ran around town shouting gossip in the streets. Most towns, bigger ones like Jouvente and Corbeaux, have an actual printing press! 

“It’s about someone named… the King?” Siffrin sets the article down. There’s a picture of a guy in very shiny armor on it, with lots of hair all over the place. “Doesn’t he look familiar to you?”

You lean over to look at the photo more closely. There’s… just a guy there. With long, lightless hair. With a closer look, you can skim the article. Some guy’s just been marching all around Vaugarde, practicing an unknown type of craft? You’re not sure why anyone would bother writing a story about this.

“That’s just a guy.”

“But you don’t know him?”

You shake your head. Siffrin groans.

“Regulus? Does that ring any bells?” 

You give it a moment of thought, but still… shake your head. You’re really coming up blank, no matter how hard you try!

“He was here for a few months, when we were in between Head Housemaidens.” Siffrin hums, unsure of how to explain this to you. “You slapped him, once?”

“WHAT?” Why in the world would you do that?

“He left a little bit after Euphrasie moved into the Head Housemaiden’s office, he’s another star, so - " Siffrin frowns. “That’s why you don’t remember him.”

You nod. The only star you know is Siffrin, and it took years for your brain to latch onto them.

“Whenever an article like this comes out, people write about him like they’ve never heard of him before,” Siffrin explains, and slams down another newspaper article from a few weeks ago on top of the first one. “Even when it’s the same journalist.”

“He kind of looks like you, doesn’t he?”

“What - no! Does he?” Siffrin squints at the paper.

“Well, he’s got the same darkless hair that you do!” 

“How do you know my hair is - " They pull at their own hair, and then groan. “Right. You’re looking at the roots, aren’t you?”

“How long ago did you dye it?”

“You did, once,” he says with a wry smile. "A couple months after you joined the House?”

“Me?” You did take a cosmetology class once, it’s not out of the question. Has the dye stuck in his hair that long?

“Yeah. I mean, the first time, at least. Claude makes me keep reapplying it so I don’t mess with her experiments.”

 
“What experiment is that?”

“Who knows what she’s doing, ever? That’s not the important thing.” Siffrin hides the newspaper from you. “Pop quiz. What were we talking about.”

“Um…” It has something to do with the newspaper, doesn’t it? “… Journalism?”

“Regulus, Mirabelle!” Siffrin makes a frustrated little huff and pokes you in the shoulder at every word, for emphasis. “Guy walking all over Vaugarde doing some funky Craft that makes people freeze up?”

"Oh, right! Um…” It sounds scary, for sure. But for some reason… you can’t muster up enough worry or concern for it at all. Even though it sounds super, duper bad! “So what?”

“So.” They look down at the newspaper, conflicted. “That thing he always said, when he was here. About fixing everything. I just…”

Siffrin’s worried. You lean forward, arms open, inviting. He puts down the newspaper entirely and gives you a big, tight hug. Even if you don’t understand everything that’s going on, you can help Siffrin through it. You know they’d do the same if your positions were switched. 

Instead of your normal reading practice, you end up talking a lot more about this… King. Which is a name he chose for himself, so even though Siffrin seems to have another name he knows him by, you stress that you should be calling him King! That’s just basic manners! 

He has some ideas for what to do if the King comes here, ways you can help. You wonder if you’ll be able to remember any of these plans. As long as you can remember Siffrin, it doesn’t matter at all - they can just remind you!

But also, it seems like he’s got a lot on his shoulders, thinking about this.

When it’s time to wrap up and go to bed, Siffrin walks you back to your room. Which they do every time, but they’re more insistent on it this time! It’s unnecessary, since there’s nobody dangerous in the House anymore, but it makes them feel better. Nobody’s wandering the hallways aimlessly at this hour - the only people you see are on some kind of  mission - so it’s a quick walk back.

Claude’s waiting for you behind the door. Oh no, did she stay up late because of you? You thought her memory was good enough to know that you leave for night tutoring once a week. And it’s on your shared calendar!

Like always, she takes a half-second to process Siffrin and remember who he is. Once she does, her whole expression shifts.

“Siffrin,” she says, with a sneer that makes you think they’re genuinely in trouble, “you’re late.”

“For…?” He tilts his head to the side.

“You said you’d let me try sampling you?”

“Oh.” Siffrin shifts uncomfortably. “I was hoping you’d forget.”

“Then - then don’t get my hopes up saying you’ll do it!” Claude groans, gesturing at the mess in her half of the room that you really wish wasn’t there. “Now I got all this equipment out, half of it is rented, and - "

“I’m just getting Mirabelle back to her room.” Siffrin lightly pushes you past the door. “And I did that. So I’m leaving.”

“Wait, then… can we do this tomorrow?”

You take in a sharp breath. It’s very, very obvious that Siffrin doesn’t want anything to do with this, but he’s… not putting his foot down, for some reason? Because they think Claude will forget about it? But she’s been writing her notes down, and Siffrin’s in this room all the time. Except for you, she’s the best at remembering Siffrin.

“… Sure,” they say, a blatant lie. 

“And you’re not just saying that?” Claude steps forward, getting awfully close to Siffrin’s personal space. “You really mean it this time?”

“Whatever gets me out of this room and back to bed.”

Claude pauses. The wheels turn in her head - she’s not the best judge of emotions half the time. Yes, she’s really good at gift-giving, and no, she’s not incompetent when faced with an emotional conversation, but. She’s prickly and annoying and doesn’t know when to pull the brakes sometimes. But Siffrin is being super obvious. That’s enough hint for her.

“You can just say no,” she says, sighing out, “it would hurt my feelings less than saying yes and then waffling on it for two weeks.”

“Can I?” Siffrin crosses their arms. “You’re going to ‘forget’ I said no and then ask again next week.”

“Siffrin, I am going to forget you said no - "

“You write down everything else about me, what about a section on your notes that says ‘don’t ask Siffrin to do this’?” 

Claude slows down, thinking through her next set of words. “… It would help me figure out why you - "

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Siffrin says, arms crossed.

“Fine, then it would help me figure out why others like you - "

“I’m not generous enough to care about that,” he adds, shoulders hunched.

Siffrin’s fully freezing Claude out now. It’s not the first time you’ve seen this. Siffrin, despite their social inexperience, has a lot of experience for what people do and don’t remember about him. Little fights like this smooth over, forgotten, even when it’s Claude. It’s easier for them if they shut down, excuse themselves, and disengage from the fight to start over later. They forget, sometimes, when the two of you get into spats, that this doesn’t work on you anymore, so you’re trying to help him build up normal conflict resolution skills, but…

Well. Siffrin’s upset, so you’re not going to intervene. You should - it would help both of them - but. Siffrin’s a little right, isn’t he? This will blow over as soon as they leave the room. 

It’s… the coward’s way out. And it’s not going to solve the problem in the long run. But maybe you and Siffrin should strategize together before you tackle this. Claude is… not the easiest person to resolve conflicts with. You should know, she’s been your roommate for years, now! So it’s fine if this doesn’t wrap up right now.

Or that’s what you’d say, if this wasn’t a night where Claude decided to escalate it herself.

“I’m just trying to help.” She takes a step closer to Siffrin, which always makes him nervous when it’s someone that’s not you. “You don’t want to be like this forever, do you?”

“I-I don’t, but - "

“Then just - suck it up a little, Siffrin.” Claude’s trying to be nice, you can tell by her tone, but the abrasiveness of her words negate any of that goodwill. “Part of being human is learning to do boring and painful things to make your life better, sometimes.”

“But I’m not human,” they hiss out, and.

And, and, and.

The air around you turns solid, but it’s sweet too. Every breath in feels like you’re inhaling ice cream that hasn’t fully set yet. 

Enough of a breath in makes your head spin, and you fall backwards, and then - 

Oh! 

Hello, ceiling!

You must have been stargazing irresponsibly again - your head is killing you. That hasn’t happened in a while. Ever since you’ve started your weekly stargazing and tutoring routine with

it’s been fine! But, blegh, maybe your infirmary visits aren’t a thing of the past as much as you’d like them to be. You’ll have to ask Claude or Euphrasie if there’s anything you can do. You don’t want

to get worried, he’s sensitive about your memory! Especially since you’re his

you’re

um

You’re Mirabelle!

There’s some shouting above you. With enough effort, you can sit up, and see a few things.

First, you’re in your room. Someone must have carried you here. But you’d think they would take you to the infirmary instead… maybe it’s full up? There’s a wet spot on the side of your head, so you think you might be bleeding again. You press a quick Healing Craft into it. All better!

Second, two of your friends are fighting each other! Not physically, but there’s lots of harsh words and phrases thrown around. One of them is crouched down next to you, worried for your health, and Claude is standing over the two of you, visibly shaken. You’ve never seen her so upset!

“See! See, we need to stop.”

“You don’t - " Claude watches you, hesitant, but still pleads her case. “We don’t know why that happened, so we should figure it out, and - "

“It’s never been random like that, we can’t, I don’t - "

“Things aren’t ever random.” Claude takes in a breath. “We just need to calm down and figure out why - "

“No we don’t.”

Your friend is so, so upset. That won’t do at all. You need to do something to help them. You reach forward, weakly, and call out their name to soothe them.

“Spica.”

Claude and Spica lose their breath at the same time. 

“We’re not doing experiments anymore,” Spica says, face pale, “not a single one.”

“But - but - " Claude says a name that’s not Spica’s, and that’s rude! If she knows their deadname she shouldn’t say it! “ - that’s what experimentation is, when something goes wrong, we find out how to fix it, so that if it happens again - "

“This won’t happen again.”

“But if it does - "

“It won’t happen again because I’m not coming back here.” Spica pats you on the side of the head, and you sit up all the way. Unassisted. “Mirabelle, we can hang out in my room next time.”

You… don’t like the tone he’s taking, but you nod. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mirabelle.” They stand up and walk towards the door, leveling one last glare at Claude. “And I’ll see you never.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Obviously I’m not,” they say, and slams the door behind them.

Oh, that was… bad.

You don’t have the context for all of that. Should you know the context for it? Did you pass out stargazing, or did you pass out here, in your own room? Is that why everyone was so freaked out? That would definitely be… concerning. A pit of worry starts to grow in your gut.

You stand up, looking for answers. “Claude - "

“No, don’t worry about me. I know I was being a huge crab.” Claude reaches for you, fussing over your injury for a moment. And then, she looks at the door, eyes already starting to glaze over as her own memory slips out of her. “… You should follow him. Just in case.”

Just in case you forget. Yeah. You nod, and wave Claude off, and leave the room.

You’re not sure what all the fuss is about, with everyone worrying about your memory. You can remember Spica just fine! Sure, you just had another one of your episodes, but they’ve never made you forget Spica.

Haven’t they?

It’s not like you… remember. All of the other times you’ve done this. You’ve been told about them, you have a vague catalog of all the big ones. But you didn’t know Spica very well when you were doing this a lot, so… maybe you were forgetting him more every time you went down. You’re not sure. 

That’s not important to you right now, anyway. You need to find Spica. 

Thankfully, even though he’s very fast, they were also distressed when they left your room. He’s halfway between your room and theirs, leaning on a pillar looking like they’re having the worst day of their life. You approach carefully, like you're trying to corner a scared animal.

“Um, Spica - "

“It’s Siffrin.” He smiles at you, despite everything, and takes in a deep breath. “Remember?”

Not… really. But it would be rude to call Siffrin by their old name if they don’t want that. 

“A-anyway. Siffrin,” you continue. 

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” You walk closer to Siffrin, right up next to the pillar with him. “What happened in there?”

“Your brain’s probably all scrambled up,” he says, shooting for fond and landing into worry. “Claude wants to do more intense experiments on me, and I said no, and we got into a fight about it.”

Oh. Is that it? You feel like something’s being cut out.

It’s fine! You know how to get information out of Siffrin. You just need to be… patient about it. Even if they don’t tell you right now, that’s okay. Maybe right now he needs you to be his friend more than they need you to be their interrogator. You open your arms up - sometimes Siffrin’s good with hugs, sometimes not - but this time they are! He’s holding onto you very, very tight.

… They’re probably worried that you called them by their old name. Did you know his name was Siffrin now and forgot? That’s… not good. You’d be worried too, in Siffrin’s position.

“Siffrin,” you say out loud, to remind yourself.

He nods into your shoulder. “That’s me.”

“I didn’t forget you, it was just - " You don’t like how you’re downplaying your own memory loss, but Siffrin’s in distress, so you should. “ - it was just your name.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“… What were we talking about on the roof?” they ask, testing you. 

Um. Probably a lot of things, right? The conversation feels fuzzy, which also isn’t a good sign, but you put that away for later. “How your hair is naturally darkless?”

It’s enough of an answer to get them to relax in your hold. 

“… I should probably let Claude experiment on me, still.” He pulls away from you, guilty. “I don’t want to, but, I guess - I guess if it only made you forget my name for a second - "

“Siffrin, it’s okay.” You press your thumbs into their palms, soothing. “I know those make you really uncomfortable, you’re not obligated to do it.”

“But she keeps asking, and I’m in your room all the time and it’s…” He lets out a big  breath. “I know I should.”

“Huh?”

“Because Claude’s trying to figure out if I can reverse being a supernova and go back to being a normal star?” Siffrin refuses to look at you as he explains. “And… that’s great, it’s just. I don’t see the point.”

Siffrin, as a normal star.

You turn the idea over in your head.

That would mean everyone in the House would be able to stargaze. They could remember the sky, the Earth, without being dependent on remembering Siffrin, too. That Siffrin wouldn’t be emanating a constant memory-altering aura, that it would be easier to break through and remember him. Things still wouldn’t be perfect for Siffrin - they’d still need people to really, really try and keep them close. Life would get simpler for them, though, they wouldn’t have to worry about staying in Dormont forever.

Because when a supernova travels, you’ve been told - things break down around them. Every city they visit temporarily forgets the sky, forgets the stars, forgets the world.

It’s better for them to stay in one, concrete place.

But if Siffrin could move around, could wander around Vaugarde, see the world that they’ve been chained to… you think he’d have a great time. Maybe the two of you could go on a pilgrimage together! You’ve never left Dormont either, it would probably be a big Change for you!

“I - " You hold your tongue.

“… You think it’s a good idea.” Siffrin fiddles with the edge of their robes. It’s not the outfit they fell in - you wonder if that’s still around, somewhere - and you know he hates wearing it, hates trying to fit in the House, but they still do. Nothing about Siffrin is Siffrin’s choice, and…

… 

“It’s fine.” You smile. “You really don’t have to.”

“Claude thinks I have to.”

“Just because it’s a good idea doesn’t mean you should make yourself uncomfortable doing it.” You are curious why they’re not jumping at the opportunity, though. “But why… not? That’s perfectly fine, I just, I’m trying to understand.”

“The only person I need to remember me is you anyway.” Siffrin’s voice turns bitter as he explains. “I don’t care if it makes it so all of Dormont can’t remember what a star is. You know what they are, who I am, that’s all I care about.”

“Siffrin…”

“I know, it’s selfish.”

“Not everyone in the House took you away from me, Siffrin.”

 
Just… the old Head Housemaiden. And Euphrasie, by association. But from what you can remember of that exchange, she didn’t… want to. Still, you’re having trouble trusting her lately. She’s not ever come forward about why the previous Head Housemaiden did any of this. You have your guesses - Houses are supposed to help fallen stars back on their feet. They’re not supposed to tear stars away from their sponsors and cause a black hole of information, but…  

You’re missing something. You know it. It would be easier if Euphrasie just came out and said what you were missing, though.

But the rest of the Housemaidens are innocent, subjected to a curse that isn’t their fault. You know Siffrin isn’t doing any of this out of malice, or revenge, it’s just… difficult for them. It’s not their fault their own grief causes everyone else in the House harm. 

“… I guess.” He rubs at his eyes. The exhaustion of tonight must be setting in. “I don’t want to see Claude right now. I’m going to bed.”

This time, you’re the one that escorts Siffrin (Siffrin. Siffrin.) to his room. You exchange another big, tight hug, and they go to bed.

When you get back to your room, Claude chides you for being back so late. You don’t dare say anything in return. Instead, you fall into bed without changing into your pajamas and have the world’s most fitful night of sleep. 

It’s a couple days before Siffrin cools off enough to go apologize to Claude.

Which is fine! Learning to apologize is a skill. And Claude also definitely owes one to Siffrin, too. But you’re not really sure who’s more in the wrong. You understand why Siffrin felt cornered enough to lash out like that. But they also shouldn’t have stayed so quiet about how uncomfortable he was! And Claude, you know she only wants the best for Siffrin, wants to help in whatever way she can. But she could have maybe read the room with more tact. 

Neither of them are wrong, and that’s the hardest part.

Claude obviously can’t remember the fight, can’t stew over what she said to Siffrin. Not until Siffrin can get in the same room as her again. But he’s procrastinating - you know he is! They’ve admitted to it! 

“It’s just…” He picks at the edge of his sleeve. “I don’t know how.”

“How…?” 

“People forget when I get into arguments with them, so… you know, since Claude remembers me more, it’s…”

Oh.

Right, right, this is your job, isn’t it? To help Siffrin learn human things like apologies? They’re not procrastinating to make your life harder, they’re embarrassed. You can understand that! 

So you take his hand and bring him to yours and Claude’s room. This will be easier if you’re there to mediate. Siffrin’s into the idea - they’re a lot less terrified, knowing you’re going to be there - and follows you along happily. 

You’re expecting Claude’s usual two-second confusion at Siffrin’s presence.

What’s weird is that it’s more than a two-second confusion.

Two seconds stretch into a minute, and then five, and then ten. 

“Claude, you know who Siffrin is, right?” you prompt, after Claude gets memory vertigo from Siffrin’s presence a third time since he walked in here.

“I’m guessing a new Housemaiden?” She chews at her pencil. “There’s not a Joining Ceremony soon enough though, right?”

This… doesn’t normally happen for this long.

“Claude, remember, I yelled at you?” Siffrin asks, waving their hand in front of Claude’s face. “You wanted to do experiments on me, and - "

“Why would I do that?” she asks, more annoyed than curious.

“B-because I’m a supernova?” 

“What’s that?”

“It’s… what happens when a fallen star can’t get to a sponsor in time?”

Something’s wrong.

You and Siffrin throw every reminder you can think at Claude - the time you all had cake together after your date! When Siffrin dyed his hair and you all talked to each other in the trap room! All of the experiments she tried on Siffrin before he put his foot down and said no! But nothing, nothing gives Claude any recognition. 

There’s no ah-ha moment.

She still stares at him, blank, like he’s a stranger to her.

Siffrin excuses himself and leaves. You follow after them. This shook up both of you - what are you supposed to do if Claude can’t remember Siffrin? That pulls out any hope out from under you about anyone else remembering Siffrin.

And.

Well, you’re special, right? You’re different. Even with your memory freak out the other day, you didn’t forget Siffrin, just their name. So you should be okay.

But this is still… bad.

“We should talk to Euphrasie,” Siffrin suggests, “I-I don’t want to, but - "

“But this is really, really weird!” You nod furiously. “Claude should know who you are. She always does! Even before I knew!”

“She can’t remember me when I’m not in the room like you can, but - "

“Still, that’s the best anyone except for me can do!”

Siffrin follows you to Euphrasie’s office. You’re past her office hours, but - she’s usually in here no matter what. That’s not necessarily healthy, but you wish silently that you can find her. Both you and Siffrin hesitate at the door when you get there. You reach forward, towards the handle, and - 

Out of nowhere, Siffrin slaps your hand away from the door.

“Siffrin?”

“What if Euphrasie doesn’t remember me either,” he says, frantic, “not that I want her to, but what if it’s just - what if everyone in the House is - "

“If everyone in the House is, we’ll figure it out.” You take the hand that slapped you and cradle it in yours. “I promise.”

“But then what if you forget?”

“I’ve got reminders!” You ring the little raindrop earrings tied to your brooches. “Ding ding.”

“Ding ding,” he repeats, trying to calm himself down. “But - but also - it’s… "

It’s not an irrational line of thought, but Siffrin is still solid in your mind. You don’t have that feeling of sand slipping through your hands. You feel sound of mind, no headaches, no confusion. If you’re going to forget Siffrin, it’s not going to be right now. And if you have anything to say about it, it never will be.

“We’ve gotten this far, Siffrin.” You reach forward and place your hands on Siffrin’s shoulders, determined. “I won’t forget you ever again.”

They sniffle and nod. When you reach for the door this time, your hand is not slapped away, and you walk inside.

Even though it’s past her office hours, Euphrasie is still here. 

This isn’t the time to call her out for being a workaholic, even if you’re thinking that in your head! Siffrin grabs onto your robes as you approach her. She hums and puts down her work as you both walk inside.

“Mirabelle, and… “ Euphrasie pauses. “Siffrin!”

Siffrin lets out a heavy sigh of relief behind you. You’re certain you’re letting one out, too, with how Euphrasie is looking at the two of you.

“Is there something going on?” She squints. “I’m assuming it’s about you, Siffrin.”

“Claude forgot me.”

“Why - yes!” Euphrasie frowns, her cheek resting into her hand. “Most people do, Siffrin, that’s been known for a long time. Did you forget?”

“No, it’s - she still doesn’t remember even after I’m there.”

You nod in agreement. “Yes, Euphrasie, it’s - it’s so weird! Usually Claude’s the best at knowing who Siffrin is, but even after half an hour she… didn’t. And she kept repeating her introduction with him.”

Euphrasie hums, the worry starting to seep into her. “What happened right before she forgot?”

“We got into a fight.” Siffrin’s still a bit sore talking about it. “But we’ve fought before, and she didn’t forget, so…”

“Were you fighting about something specific?” Euphrasie brings out a little journal and opens it, scanning over parts of it before looking up at you and Siffrin again. 

“Um, Euphrasie - " You try not to read the journal without permission, but if she’s writing things down about Siffrin, you should probably know about that! “Claude never told me what kind of research you and her were doing on Siffrin, and… don’t you think I should be helping?”

“Oh, Mirabelle, you’re already helping!” Euphrasie smiles too sweetly, shutting the journal. “Look at Siffrin, they have a name and take classes and came here to ask me to help them with a problem willingly, that wouldn’t have happened a year ago!”

“But…” That’s not really helping with the current problem, is it?

“Just leave this business with Claude to me, alright?” Euphrasie stands from her desk and herds you and Siffrin out of her office. She’s not physically pushing you, just being aggressively friendly until you step through the door, but it’s still weird. “I’ll check in with her soon!”

And then the door closes behind you.

You and Siffrin exchange panicked expressions.

“So something’s going on,” he says first.

You nod. “I thought I was being overdramatic before, but… "

“She’s always been like this, a little bit.” Siffrin stares at the door like it’s personally wronged them. “Well, um, not always, but… "

Hm. You know what, you’ve never asked Siffrin about what the House was like… before you joined. That might give you a lead, actually! 

“Siffrin, um… can we go back to your room and talk?” 

He nods, and you’re both in their musty old room within a few minutes. Total privacy. It’s a lot cleaner than it was the first time you visited, with more lights and less mold. You remember insisting on helping them clean the room up once you were in here often enough. It’s nice to see him keeping up the maintenance!

And - good news is, you see one of the evacuation orbs on the shelf! So Euphrasie did end up getting that done. That’s proof enough to you that you don’t think she wants Siffrin dead, but… 

Change, if that’s where the bar is, things aren’t good. 

“Siffrin, um… before I was a Housemaiden, what was it like for you here?” 

“We-well, uh, the Head Housemaiden obviously didn’t like me. And Euphrasie was trying to be my sponsor, and it wasn’t working at all, and…” Siffrin looks around the room. “I got tired of it and started hiding in here.”

“Do you know why they took you?” That’s still something you’ve never been able to wrap your head around.

“No,” he says, frustrated, “I didn’t know enough Vaugardian to know what they were talking about the first night I was away, and by the time I knew any, I don’t think the Head Housemaiden remembered why she did it either.”

“I wonder if there’s anything in the House that we could look at that would… help.” You stare at the ceiling, thinking. “Old records… Euphrasie’s journal… "

“I can sneak around looking for things,” Siffrin offers.

You want to offer to join, but - um. You’re not very sneaky. And people very much remember you at all times. So you just nod. 

The rest of your afternoon is making plans, exchanging what little information you do know to start. Your job is to keep an eye on Claude, and tabs on Euphrasie to see if she’s really trying to get her back to where she was before all of this. Siffrin’s job is to run around the House looking for physical clues. You’ll spend a week doing this and then Siffrin and you will have another one of these secret, private meetings.

It feels so… conspiratorial! So exciting…! 

You’re finally getting somewhere!

You’re finally a part of uncovering this big mystery!

You don’t hear any news about Claude for days.

Euphrasie says she’s working with her, and you... hesitantly believe that! She has reminders and notes all over her office! And even if Euphrasie is acting weird, she has no reason to drop this line of investigation entirely! She loves Claude very much, there's no reason for her to purposefully sabotage her memory. But Claude still acts floaty, doesn’t acknowledge Siffrin at all unless her eyes are directly on him, and… you’re worried. 

Because unlike before, no matter how much Siffrin tries to put themselves in front of Claude, no matter how many reminders you give her, she just… doesn’t keep the information the same way she used to.

Once it starts influencing the rest of her work - when you notice she’s having trouble remembering anything, you… ask Siffrin not to come into your room for a while.

He understands. 

They don’t like it, because it means being separated from you when you’re in your room - but you can go visit Siffrin instead. It's part of your secret plan, anyway! It’s just… different. You’ll both get used to it.

It’s another day of worrying about Claude.

That’s all you do, now! You wake up, skip class, try to get Claude to remember Siffrin, fail, go to bed. If Euphrasie isn’t doing anything about Claude, if she’s not going to be the one to fix this, you’re just going to have to roll up your sleeves and brute force this yourself! Not that you’re at all qualified, or prepared, or ready, but.

If you don’t, who will?

Today’s not going well. Claude’s frustrated with your badgering, because she does actually have other work to do, and your questions are just distracting her. 

You should take a break, maybe. Go eat something. 

But.

You’re not finding the motivation to.

Until, of course, there’s a knock at your door.

Claude’s too absorbed in her project to investigate, so you answer it. Euphrasie’s here for a visit, and while you’d normally assume she’s here for Claude - well, ha, you’re still assuming she’s here for her, but in a different way. Maybe this is finally the answer you’re looking for!

“Euphrasie!” You smile wide, trying not to get your hopes up too far yet. “Did you figure out anything more about - um - "

You don’t want to call out Claude by name, she’s right there, but… you need to know. 

“Oh, um. I’m not here for that…” Euphrasie looks at you, in that way people do when you’ve done something wrong. When you’ve missed something. “Are you… coming to your own seminar?”

Your stomach drops past your abdomen onto the floor.

Your seminar.

That… thing you were volun-told to do.

“WAH!” You spring into action immediately. Ribbon in hair, sword in hand even though you’re not fighting. “I - oh, Head Housemaiden, I’m so sorry, I - "

“Breathe, Mirabelle.” Euphrasie smiles at you reassuringly. “You’re only an hour late!”

OH, YEAH, ONLY AN HOUR. NOT SO BAD. SURE. RIGHT.

Not even waiting for Euphrasie to follow after you, you rush to the second floor. You can’t be a second later than you already are! 

An entire hour! She waited an hour until she realized something was wrong! The class probably wouldn’t even last a whole hour, and, Change, what if the room is rented out for something else during this time block? 

You didn’t prepare for this at all! This is like every stress dream combined, but real! Even if you weren’t occupied with Siffrin and Claude’s fight all week - a week is not enough to prepare for a class like this!! 

You’re running so fast, so hurriedly, that you’re not thinking of a plan on the way there. You’re just going to burst into the room unprepared. You know that. But still, you don’t slow down, you don’t take a second to think, you keep running. Because what’s the alternative? Being an hour and fifteen minutes late? An hour and twenty? 

Maybe you’re lucky, and there’s nobody in the classroom anymore. An hour is a long time to wait. Who would wait an hour to hear you talk about nothing? Even if you had something planned… it seems like a pretty boring idea for a seminar. 

It’s not like you’ve Changed, taking all these classes.

You’re still late, you’re still in a panic, you’re still - 

You’re still Mirabelle.

Despite every muscle in your body screaming to run out of the House entirely, you find yourself at the door to the classroom. For all you were rushing to get here, you can’t bring yourself to open the door. 

There’s going to be trouble behind this door.

And it’s going to be all your fault.

You swallow,

and open it.

The classroom is packed. Every desk is full, and Housemaidens are sitting on the floor and leaning against the walls despite the occupancy. That’s - this is more people than you thought would be here. Than you thought would show up for a silly little lecture you’re meant to lead.

Even Siffrin got here before you! Sitting at the front of the class! If Siffrin remembered, and you didn’t - aaaaugh!!!!

It’s fine.

You’re here now.

You can fix this. Shaking, breathing as if there’s a wind-up toy in your lungs, you stand in front of the podium and look out at the classroom.

…

Change, what are you supposed to say?

Euphrasie said you didn’t have any kind of direction. Surely, you can ad-lib some way these classes have helped you, right? Otherwise, what was the point of taking any of them at all? 

You’ve taken public speaking classes, acting classes, teaching classes, you’ve tutored Siffrin - you should be able to make up a class on the spot! This isn’t a fact-based lecture, it’s just about your emotions, your life experiences. All you need to do is be honest, be articulated, be… 

Be someone that isn’t you.

Which you should get around to learning how to do soon.

That’s how Change happens.

But.

As you look out at everyone in their desks,

Looking at their notebooks, open wide, pens and pencils in hand,

Dozens of pairs of expectant eyes, people expecting an expert

a scholar

but instead

it’s just you.

Just Mirabelle, who’s been here for years and still doesn’t know where she fits in. Who doesn’t even deserve to be here. You’ve been in a lot of full-booked classes. Every class you’ve ever taken, was there somebody that deserved one of your desks, one of your spots, more than you? Were you the reason someone missed out on their real passion? Even though, after all these classes, you’ve never found a true one of your own?

You don’t know what to do.

“I - I - "

Your mouth moves before you can form the right thoughts. Starting of the lecture with a stutter isn’t the best move, but it’s better than… not starting the lecture at all.

“I like taking classes.”

Everyone… nods. That was not the most intelligent thing you could have said. 

“The House offers so many fun classes,” you continue, shaking, “sculpting, fencing, glassblowing, metallurgy, architecture, beekeeping, interior design, long-distance swimming, cosmetology, weaponcrafting, leather tanning, book binding…”

You could get through this whole lecture just by naming every class you’ve ever taken, you think. But you won’t. Even if you hate getting thrown into this lecture, you have principals, you have a standard of quality. You want people to think you know what you’re talking about! You don’t want to be saddled with another embarrassing reputation like the one you had in Dormont.

“But. Even though they were fun, and I had a great time…”

Still, what do you say? You didn’t come in with a thesis. 

“I don’t think I learned a single meaningful thing in them,” is what you come up with.

And it’s the truth.

The Housemaidens, your classmates, your students, your teachers, whisper among themselves. Siffrin stares at you from his desk. This isn’t what any of them expected, but it’s what you’re giving them - you can’t stand to lie to any of these people! They all took you out of your worst. They taught you how to live here, you’ve worked with them for years. They deserve better than to watch you haphazardly lie in front of them just because the Head Housemaiden told you to.

“Because - come on!” You wave your arms in the air, frantic. “Furniture building, sure, how often do I need to make a table? Gardening? I’ve never kept a plant alive without Craft! Acting, great, yeah, that’s useful, if it meant I could stand up in front of all of you and teach this lesson without anything going wrong!!”

It feels like someone reaches through your back to squeeze at your heart - but unlike when that usually happens, you’re yelling instead of locking all of your muscles and joints into paralysis. 

“But I can’t. I can’t, because I didn’t learn a single thing in any of these classes.” It’s not like you use half of the things you learn about, anyway. “They’re just vapid, meaningless hobbies to me. They haven’t helped me Change. I haven’t found a new, better purpose in life.”

Your now-captive audience sits there, stunned, unsure whether to stop you.

You don’t think you’d let them, now, even if anyone tried.

“There’s no class for what to do when you think you’re stagnating, there’s no class for learning how to be a person correctly, there’s not - nobody can - "

Nobody can tell you what to do.

It’s not like you’re the one that gets a sponsor.

“I’m still Mirabelle, and no amount of these classes is going to Change that. All I’m doing is passing time. And we don’t have an endless amount of that.”

You’ll be twenty-one this year.

Meant to grow out of your early adult worries, meant to straighten up and be a true adult. Toille is twenty-two and working through his sexuality and gender. Beatrice is twenty-four, and is always in the Body Craft room getting their new self ready. Fontaine is twenty-five, and is bonded with a baby. Claude is thirty-two and is a fully realized chemist and experimenter. Edwain is thirty-five and is making new Crafted inventions every day, smarter than you could ever dream of being. Euphrasie is thirty-nine and is the Head Housemaiden. The interim Head Housemaiden - she was only seventeen and she could run circles around you.

Siffrin is - well, technically hundreds of millions of years old, but his human body looks about twenty-five. And they’ve Changed, they have a place in the House even if nobody else knows that. He’s found a niche here that makes him happy.

And you… haven’t.

Before you can hear anybody interject and convince you everything’s fine when it’s not, you rush out of the classroom. 

You run, and run, and run. Maybe this would be a good time to run away from the House forever. Obviously you don’t belong here. Everyone else has their life together, and you’re looking at the rest of your life, and… you just can’t see yours falling into place the same way anyone else’s has.

Eventually, you can’t run any farther. You’re not built for distance running, you’re short and your legs are stout and your lungs are tiny. Maybe that should be what you Craft yourself to be - a better runner. Because you’re sure getting in a lot of practice running from your problems!! 

Weakly, you trot to one of the brick walls and lean up against it. 

Just.

Take a breather here.

You can go to your room afterwards.

Until you see Siffrin walk towards you, and…

No.

You peel yourself off the wall and start walking to your room. You don’t want to see him, you don’t want to look at them, you don’t want to be expected to be social, right now.

“I went and made myself look stupid at the front of the class for you.” Siffrin’s footsteps follow in lockstep behind you, trailing behind your every move. “Maybe nobody will remember the lecture now?”

You keep walking. You don’t want to talk to Siffrin right now. 

“Um, and - " You hear a couple of their footsteps stutter, unsure. “If it helps, most of the people that were waiting for you to come in were late for the class anyway? They weren’t waiting the whole hour.”

It doesn’t help. All it means is that a lot of people didn’t care that much about your lecture and you still managed to make it worse.

“And anyway! It was dumb that Euphrasie made you do this, right?” Siffrin slows, their voice getting more distant as they put more space between the two of you. “Especially with how this week’s been, it’s… you’ve… been busy…”

Siffrin trails off into silence, but continues following you. Bell jingling all the way.

He’s waiting for you to join the conversation. That’s how those work, right - one person says something, then another person adds onto it, then the first person comes back with another comment. Easy, baby stuff. You shouldn’t need to be reminded of this, but maybe you do, since you can’t do the simplest of any basic human behaviors today. 

Well, this time you know how a conversation works, but you’re opting out of this one. As much of a comfort Siffrin is, as much as you’re friends and you like talking to them, you can’t face him right now. You can’t face anybody, but Siffrin is… important, so you can’t face him even more than anyone else.

But you’re still followed.

The silence stretches on for long enough that Siffrin picks up the courage to talk again. “Mirabelle - "

“I don’t want to talk about it, Siffrin!” You whip yourself around, seconds from exploding - exploding on Siffrin, no less, but you don’t care, you can’t care! “I don’t want someone to tell me I’m fine, or that it wasn’t as bad as it looked, because it doesn’t matter! It wasn’t bad because I was unprepared for a class, it was bad because - "

Siffrin tries to shush you, but you won’t let him.

“ - because - because I should be able to do this, right? I should be able to do something as little and stupid as this!” Everything’s coming out, whether you like it or not. “All I had to do was stand in front of the class and say what I learned. I could have had a bad lecture. I could have just rattled off every class I’ve ever taken and embarrassed myself a little bit and that would have been fine.”

Siffrin stares, unsure of what to say.

“But instead, I freaked out and cried and burned every bridge with every teacher sitting in the lecture.” 

“Mirabelle - "

“And I probably scared off everyone else from taking a class they wanted, too!”

“Mirabelle, it’s  - "

“Don’t - don’t act like you know how to fix this!” You’re being mean. You’re being rude. But that’s all you can do today, it’s all you can do right now. “Nobody remembers you, Siffrin, when you embarrass yourself in front of people it’s not a big deal, it’ll just get erased. You can't smooth this over.”

Siffrin… stays silent. You’ve struck a nerve.

It’s the truth, though.

“But when it happens to me, Siffrin, that’s my whole life, that’s my whole reputation.” You clasp your hands together, pressing your nails into your skin until your fingers darken. “Everyone’s going to remember this, I’ll be treated differently because of this, and I can’t take it back. It’s not just going to go away.”

“I - I can try to - " Siffrin frantically gestures, completely out of their element. “I can still try to help?”

“Well, I don’t want it right now.” You fold your arms over your chest. “I want to be alone.”

“… Forever, or right now?”

“Change, Siffrin.” It’s unfair to be annoyed at their insecurity, but you can’t help yourself. You can, however, keep the thought inside your head instead of saying it out loud.  “Right now.”

“Okay.” Siffrin backs off - even if you didn’t vocalize your annoyance, they seem to sense it. “Okay, I didn't mean anything, I just - "

“I know.” You lean forward to get one good hug out of them. You’re squeezed tightly and walked back to your room in silence.

“See you tomorrow?” Siffrin asks, opening the door for you.

The idea of seeing anyone ever again after this makes you want to scream into a pillow. Will you feel like that tomorrow? There’s no way to tell, not with how urgently you feel you need to hide right now. Just to placate them, you nod.

“Okay.” They smile, barely. “I’ll… bring you some food later. Sound good?”

“Siffrin.” You narrow your eyes at him, finding yourself at the end of your tolerance for being mother-henned by your best friend. 

“Alright, fine!” He lets go of the door and distances themself from your room, moving further down the hall. “Just… let me know when you’re feeling better.”

“I will,” you say.

What you don’t say is that you’re unsure if better will ever come.

You hide in your room for days and days.

You’re aware of Claude, and how she’s saying there are visitors at your door, but you don’t want to talk to her. You don’t want to talk to anyone. If it was someone really important, Claude would force you to talk to them. But she doesn't, so it's probably nobody you need to talk to. Even when you need to get up to use the restroom, you bring a blanket with you so that you can hide from any prying eyes. You take your meals at the door - there’s always a Housemaiden or two that will volunteer to bring meals to dorm rooms when someone’s sick, and… is this a sickness? Being so embarrassed that you’re weak and feverish?

You know this is silly, hiding like this.

And yet, you still do it. 

Because it’s easier. Easier than leaving your room and apologizing to the class for yelling and running away. Easier than showing your face to Euphrasie after messing up something as basic as giving one lecture. Easier than being yourself in public.

On some level, you know you’re being overdramatic.

 
These feelings won’t last forever, you’ll be fine later. 

But another part of you hates how you can be taken out of commission entirely by your own feelings. How, no matter the medicine you take or changes you make in your own thought pathways, there’s always an off switch that can fully incapacitate you at any time. It doesn’t matter how good you are at anything, how many classes you’ve taken, how old you get - the switch is there, always, looming over you.

It’s like another person leaps out of your heart and decides it’s time to stop functioning. 

You haven’t seen many of them because you’ve never traveled outside of Dormont, but there are these things called Sadnesses out in the wilderness and open road. They’re made out of concentrated negative emotions. The person who makes them always survives, and you’ve even read accounts of them feeling better once a Sadness has manifested out of them. 

Is this what it’s like to make a Sadness?

Are all your feelings, your anxieties - are they eating at you so much because your body refuses to push it outside and purge you of your own grief? 

Maybe there really is something wrong with you. 

But you’re too afraid to fix it. Because that means there’s something wrong with Mirabelle, and you have a death grip on her, you don’t want her to go away. There’s something wrong- you’re codependent with your own mental shortcomings. If you get jealous, or anxious, or indecisive, or self-conscious, or incompetent - well, that’s just Mirabelle. It’s not your fault, you, the core of yourself, that’s Mirabelle.

It’s nice to have a scapegoat. 

It’s good to have a reason why you’re bad. 

That’s just Mirabelle.

It’s been a week.

There’s a knock at your door.

It’s not late at night, but you don’t usually get visitors after dark. You haven’t been getting visitors at all. You’re pretty sure everyone in the House is gossiping about you and how mopey and awful you’ve been. Which is nice, to an extent. You can get privacy after your big embarrassing meltdown. But also. Comfort’s been a little short because of it. Not that you want to see anyone right now, but… maybe, deep down, you’d like it if someone forced their way in here to hang out with you.

That might be what the knock at the door is.

Claude’s not in, so you need to answer it yourself.

Okay! Great! Mirabelle, you remember how to get out of bed, don’t you? One foot in front of the other, shuffling, all the way to the door!

Yes, this is pathetic.

Yes, you feel stupid.

It’s fine. You’ve had a bad week. Let yourself be pathetic and stupid, for Change’s sake!

You hesitate at the knob. Is this another meal delivery? You already ate dinner. Maybe this is the doctor, or Euphrasie, or someone else that would be incredibly annoying to talk to right now. Euphrasie is the reason you embarrassed yourself in front of everyone, you do not want to show yourself in front of her right now.

… Don’t blame her, Mirabelle. You embarrassed yourself in front of everyone because you lost track of your schedule and didn’t prepare for something that was objectively your responsibility. 

You take in a deep breath, without any specific rhythm, and turn the knob.

A short, scrawny Housemaiden you’ve never met before waits behind the door. They have lightless hair that’s darkless at the very tip of their roots. He wears a bell on his hip, which goes ding-ding in a vaguely familiar way as they move around. He carries a few newspapers and books under their arm, with - Change, that’s weird - that’s one of your old blankets draped around their arm. It looks like they’re getting ready for a picnic? Maybe? But why would anybody have a picnic at night?

“Mirabelle, um…” The Housemaiden smiles at you shyly, nervously. “Are you feeling better?”

You… don’t know how to answer that. No, you don’t feel better. You feel awful, still, for being so stupid in front of a bunch of other Housemaidens. 

“I’m… fine,” is what you say, because this is a stranger and you’re not going to go around dumping your problems onto strangers.

He doesn’t look like he believes you, but that’s not their business!

“You probably don’t want to do tutoring tonight, but we could go look at the stars?” They lean forward, way too familiar for you, and frown when you lean backwards. For some reason, this surprises him. “Mirabelle, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Um.” It’s rude to outright say you don’t know somebody, but you’re drawing such a blank with this Housemaiden. There’s no way you’re getting around this. 

“Sorry, I really don’t mean to be rude - "

The Housemaiden’s face drops, their body ice-cold, as if they’re anticipating you telling them about a murder.

“ - but have we met before?”

Chapter Text

It rains on your birthday this year.

Twenty-three isn’t a big milestone, but something about it feels important, this go-around.

You’ve been at the House for… five years.

And that whole time, you haven’t Changed.

But also in that time, you’ve come to love Change.

So… congratulations, Mirabelle. You’ve talked yourself into a religion that you’re fundamentally incapable of following correctly. Because - well, at least with your mother, you could have sidestepped bonding with someone. She would have been annoyed at you, but you could have! Um! Adopted a kid? Or got some kind of cool protégé that isn’t your kid but is enough of someone in your family to count as passing on the family business. 

But as a Housemaiden, you don’t have that luxury.

A couple years ago, you went on a date, and then you said you could wait another year before trying again. And you haven’t, because it’s scary. But you need to, because you need to bond before you’re twenty-seven, so that you can have kids before you’re twenty-nine, because really you know it’s okay to have kids after thirty but aren’t there more complications like that? And it’s already going to be awful, you don’t want it to be worse.

You could probably get by with one kid. Right? Find a partner that just wants one kid. Or maybe you could Body Craft yourself the other way so that you don’t have to worry about it? But - ugh, no, no, that’s also bad. You know you’d hate it. You tried a packer for a week for experimentation's sake and thought you were going to die. You know you're an outlier, how you're so attached to such inconsequential parts of your body - parts you don't even want to use that much! - that you can't bear Changing them.

You’ll… figure it out.

You’re only twenty-three, after all.

All of the older Housemaidens say that’s nothing! You’re just at the beginning of your life journey. 

But it feels like it’s going to be all over soon.

Your time as Mirabelle won’t last forever.

Change doesn’t allow that.

So…

…

You’ll just have to enjoy being Mirabelle until she’s wrestled away from you.

But it’s getting harder to enjoy being her every day.

When your friends ask what you want to do for your birthday, you say the same thing you always do.

Stargazing.

But it’s raining.

So you can’t.

And nobody except you even knows what that is, anyway.

A few weeks after your birthday, a traveling wagon parks itself outside the House.

They’re a company that helps people find their bonded partners. That’s less weird than dating your friend. The intentions are fully known up front. There's no worrying about reading into a conversation too hard, everyone knows what they're there for. You fill out a profile, and you answer the questions as honestly as you can. You’re probably the least eligible bachelorette in this entire wagon’s database, but someone will have to answer, right? There’s someone as desperate as you out there?

That would be a perfect match. 

The wagon workers take a sketch of you. It’s accurate, but missing some details. They don’t get your nose quite right. They don’t bother to sketch out the ding-ding thingys on your brooches. They fill your hair all in lightless, forgetting to leave the darkless puff at the front. 

When you get a big stack of candidates back, you wonder how accurate their portraits are.

You’re told how to get more profiles, how to find the wagon again when it’s time to contact somebody once you find a profile you like. They give you a good starting amount to pour through. It’s going to take you… a while to look through these.

This is your whole future, after all.

… 

When you get back to your room, you shove all of the papers into the drawer of your nightstand and refuse to touch them.

You wake up in the middle of the night to the tune of someone banging on your door.

Claude gets out of bed before you can and rushes to answer it.

“Shut up!” She yells through the door before opening it. “It’s three in the morning!”

You poke your head out of the pillow to watch the door. The light’s pouring through, and… there’s a child on the other side? Or just a really, really short Housemaiden? They’re holding an evacuation orb, so you sit up out of bed. Is there an emergency?

You’re not paying attention to the actual words Claude is saying. You just know she’s yelling. The other Housemaiden is shouting back, in an accent you can’t place. 

Something something evacuation, something something leave now.

Wait. Does that mean something bad is happening?

You don’t have any time to interrogate, because Claude grabs the orb from the Housemaiden and shuts the door in their face. She throws it on one of the barrels and stomps to her end of the room.

You blink sleepily at her. “What was - "

“Some prank.” Claude crawls back into her bed. “Someone stole an orb, I’ll deal with it in the morning.”

You want to tell her that technically it is morning, but you leave it be. You close your eyes, and…

Someone’s banging on your door.

That’s… really aggressive. 

This time, you get up. Who could need to talk to you at three in the morning? 

“Just ignore it,” Claude says, her head pressed into her pillow.

No, you’ll fix this. They’ll just keep banging on your door all night if you don't address it. You open the door to find a Housemaiden, a couple centimeters shorter than you, scrawny, without any Change brooches on. There’s a pendant on their hip, which might have been a bell once upon a time - now, it just looks like a squashed piece of metal, as if it was smashed onto a concrete floor. The Housemaiden leaps forward and grasps at your robes.

“Mirabelle - " He’s both excited and devastated to see you, even though you don’t know who this stranger is. “We need to evacuate.”

They seem thoroughly convinced of this, but… you don’t hear any alarms. And that doesn’t mean there’s no emergency, it could just be that you’re the first one to grab an orb, but… what are the chances of you being the first person someone comes to when there’s a problem? Shouldn’t you already be hearing the other orbs crying out for each other, shouldn’t you see the emergency happening before your eyes?

“… Why?”

“Someone’s breaking into the House.” He slips past you and looks around your room, as if they’ve been here before. “What do you need to evacuate?”

“Um.” You have a traveling bag, you think. You pull it out of your closet. It’s smushed all the way back there.

“You let them in here?” Claude says from her bed.

“If it’s a drill, I don’t want to miss it?” Sleepily, you throw some random pieces of clothing inside and a few books. The Housemaiden shakes you to make you go faster, but you can’t stay awake. 

Oh, wait, you should put some of those bonding papers in here so you can look over them…

The Housemaiden groans. “Those better be important, we don’t have time!”

You blink at the bag. Yeah, it looks a little silly to put all of these in here. Um… you need your toothbrush, and…

A cry rings out, distant and imposing.

“Stars, I can hear him from here.” The Housemaiden throws your closet open, grabs your rapier - the real one - and shoves it into your hands. “Mirabelle, come on, if you need anything else, we can get it outside the House. We need to move.”

Wait, if you’re being given your sword, does that mean this is serious?

You look over at the other side of the room. Maybe Claude should come with you. “Claude, do you - "

The Housemaiden grabs the orb and tugs you out of your own room. 

“Hey!” 

“Once we get the rest of the orbs, the alarms will go off and she’ll know to escape, won’t she?” They pull you forcefully down the hallway. “Where’s another orb?”

“Um, it’s…” You rub at your eyes and wrestle control of your limbs back. You walk a little faster so that you can lead this Housemaiden to -

Um - 

Wait, why are you in the hallway in your pajamas??

“Mirabelle.”

A stern voice in an accent you’ve never heard pops up behind you. You turn around, and… oh, there’s a Housemaiden you’ve never met. They’re a couple centimeters shorter than you, scrawny, without any Change brooches on. There’s a pendant on their hip, which might have been a bell once upon a time - now, it just looks like a squashed piece of metal, as if it was smashed onto a concrete floor. 

“You know what - " They step in front of you, one palm out, herding you like a sheep. “I'll lead. Tell me where another evacuation orb is.”

Oh - right, they are holding one of the orbs! Is the House in trouble?

“Well, um - where was that one?” You don’t want to accidentally lead him to an orb they already picked up.

“Old storage room.”

That’s a weird place for one of the orbs to be, but you distantly remember Euphrasie changed the position of that orb a few years ago. Weird! At least it got picked up during an emergency. Or a drill of one. The House seems calm now, you don’t know what could possibly be wrong with it.

"I… think there’s one near the cafeteria,” you say, pointing down the hall. “I - well, that’s on the first floor, it would be better if we could get one on a higher floor but - "

The Housemaiden nods, and starts walking down the corridors over to the stairs. You keep trying to explain that there’s probably better orbs to start with, but you can’t produce their exact location with sleep still filling your brain, so… yes, this is probably your safest bet. 

“What’s the emergency?” you ask when the two of you reach the stairs. You heard a weird cry further down, but there’s no fire, no earthquake. 

“Someone’s breaking into the House,” he says, walking faster, “someone who can do a lot with Craft.”

“What, um…” You don’t understand the issue. But this Housemaiden seems to, so you must be missing something. “What are they here for?”

“I… don’t know.” 

“How do you know they’re here to do something bad, then?” It’s not like you don’t believe this Housemaiden, they’re so convinced of the problem, it’s just… it’s so sudden?

“I’ve met him before, and I know he's going to do something. I just don’t know what.”

… You’re trying not to be suspicious of this unknown Housemaiden, but. “Did you know he was coming?”

“It took me a while to tell he was coming, because I had to keep finding newspapers from towns, and it’s - Mirabelle, it’s nearly impossible to track down this guy, nobody knows who he is half the time.” The Housemaiden takes a nervous breath in and out, in a rhythm that’s so familiar you can feel it in your own lungs. “But, then, I saw him on the horizon when I was stargazing, so - "

“Oh, do you like stargazing, too?”

“Not as much as I used to.”  

… There’s still something weird about this Housemaiden. You’ve never met them before, but they know your name. They know what stargazing is. They knew someone was going to invade the House. All of that feels connected, even if you know for a fact it’s not. It’s three separate facts, three separate sentences. They’re not connected just because they feel like they all go together.

He doesn’t seem like he’s here to harm you, so you decide to trust them. 

As much as this Housemaiden was unaware of the rest of the orbs’ locations, they know the precise route to the cafeteria, shortcuts included. This isn’t an inexperienced Housemaiden, or anybody new - this is somebody who’s lived in this House for at least a decade, knowing it as intimately as the bones in their own body. This is a Housemaiden that’s lived here longer than you, with the way they weave and dance through the halls. 

There’s a precision to their steps too. Sometimes the route they take isn’t the shortest, but is the least-traveled. The halls with the fewest eyes on them. Every once in a while, you’ll hit bricks and floorboards that have a wobble or a creak to them, and you’ll make an extra noise.

You realize, after enough steps, that the Housemaiden in front of you hasn’t made a single sound. 

Brushing off your intimidation of this person, you follow them down to the first floor. 

Your prize sits in a little recess right next to the cafeteria door. The Housemaiden places his orb in your hands and - wait, um, you completely forgot this is the one that needs a key to open, so that children don’t play with it, um, you’ll probably have to just break the glass since it’s an emergency - 

But then the Housemaiden pulls a pin out of their pocket and starts tampering with the lock. You want to read suspicion into this, but - that’s a normal thing they teach in the trap building and dismantling class. Just because somebody knows how to pick a lock doesn’t mean they’re evil!! Sometimes it’s good that someone can pick a lock!

Like right now.

You watch them poke the inside of the lock, rocking the pin back and forth. Half of it is intuition, half of it is guesswork. They mumble something under their breath as they do it, and… that’s familiar, isn’t it?

… Oh!

The intimate knowledge of the House layout! The way he hides and shrinks away from you! Being able to demonstrate things they learned in a House class! His short, unchanged stature! 

You know! You know who this is!!! Ah, how did you not realize at all?? 

“Waugh - I know who you are!!!!”

His hand slips and punches directly through the glass, rendering their lockpicking useless. 

“Ah! Oh, crab, I didn’t mean, um - " You reach forward and heal them, stopping the bleeding. “Pheeeew. I’m sorry for startling you. I didn’t even think that would be… I mean, I probably should have - "

“Mirabelle, Mirabelle, it’s fine.” He takes a deep breath in and out, and then smiles softly at you. “This was a bad time to realize, but now you know, so we can grab these orbs and get out of here already.”

“Ha… " You laugh nervously. “I thought Claude was just messing with me about there being a ghost in the House!” 

The Housemaiden stops.

“What.”

“She always tries to get a rise out of me, saying the House is haunted.” You smile at them, trying to be as friendly as possible. “But it wasn’t a ghost, you’re just - you’re just shy, aren’t you!!!” 

For some reason, the Housemaiden looks like they want to attack you, but they choose to snap off a piece of broken glass on the door. Oh no, that’s - that’s dangerous!! You take it away from them and check their hand for more injuries. There aren’t any, but he should be careful… !

“Can you just slap me in the face next time you ‘realize something?’” The Housemaiden drags their hand across their face, weary and exhausted. “It’ll hurt less.”

You… don’t know what that means at all.

And there’s not a lot of time to ask, with how the Housemaiden reaches into the door and pulls out the orb. You touch yours to theirs, and you hear the pulsing sound of the emergency alarm sound out. You’ve heard it a million times during drills, but it feels… so much more ominous now that you know it’s happening for a purpose. 

“That’s done.” The Housemaiden slips the orb under their robes and gestures for you to follow them again. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait! Wait!!” What do they mean by that? It’s just the two of you and the two orbs! “We need to find everybody else and evacuate with them!”

“We don’t.” The Housemaiden points to the ceiling, where all of the sound comes from. “Alarm’s going. Everyone knows to leave. Whether they do or not isn’t our problem.”

That’s… so cruel! 

Even if this Housemaiden is shy, even if they had to live as a ghost here for years without anyone to help them, even if they were burned by the House and had someone important taken from them, even if they’re forgotten, even if it’s hard for them to be here and they can’t stand to look you in the eye anymore, even if… even if… 

Even if…

You slap Housemaiden Siffrin in the face.

"What - "

“You told me to!!” You breathe in, out. “And we can’t leave everyone behind!!!”

“They have the alarms going,” Housemaiden Siffrin says, rubbing at their cheek, “it’s not like we’re leaving them to die.”

“B - but - "

“I’m going.” Housemaiden Siffrin turns around and walks down the hall towards the House exit. “And you can come if you want.”

They stop walking pretty quickly and start sprinting. Something deeper in you pleads you to go after him. Don’t take your eyes off them. You keep your eyes glued to him and take off. They’re fast! They’re too fast. You take big, heaving breaths to catch up, but it’s not enough. 

After a few paces, he realizes you’re following them and slows down a smidge. It’s enough for you to keep him in your sights. 

Where the crab have they been all this time?

The last time you saw them was… was… um. You were teaching him how to read, weren’t you? So he must have dropped out of that and left. That doesn’t feel right - they mentioned reading newspapers, so they know how to read Vaugardian. 

So the last time you saw them… 

Reading practice… but it was after that, if he can read, so… was it after your bad date? But it was before you signed up at the wagon. Housemaiden Siffrin would have said something if he knew you were looking into getting bonded, because they don’t want to either… so after your bad date and before the wagon… 

You’re turning over all these landmarks in your mind, until Housemaiden Siffrin stops suddenly, a hand in front of you.

“It’s faster to pass the Death Corridor to get out of here,” he says, “and it’s really, really dangerous.”

Eek! What? Right, you’ve heard of this before, but - auuugh, why do you have a Death Corridor??? Why is Housemaiden Siffrin making you walk through it?????

“Um, th-then…” You look down the corridor, which is not lit at night like the rest of the halls. “What kind of trap is in here?”

“Let me worry about that.” Housemaiden Siffrin starts walking into the corridor. “Just, um… think about how dangerous this all is, okay?”

WHAT? Shouldn’t you be keeping yourself calm so you don’t end up getting hurt?? Letting yourself into an anxious spiral is only going to make this worse!

But - augh, you can’t stay calm, Housemaiden Siffrin is just walking in the middle of the corridor, like nothing’s wrong! You follow behind them, but linger from pillar to pillar. 

“If you think the pillars are going to save you from any of this, you should step away from them,” Housemaiden Siffrin says, a weird detachment in his voice.

… Does that mean the pillars are what kills people in here? You take a wary step backwards. 

Other than that, the Death Corridor is going pretty good! It’s definitely not safe - you’d never think that unless Housemaiden Siffrin said so - but at least you can take the next step forward. If you do that enough times, you’ll be out of here shortly!

Except.

The door on the far hallway opens. 

Housemaiden Siffrin immediately jumps behind a pillar. You follow their lead and hide next to the one behind Housemaiden Siffrin's. Is this part of the trap?

But… Housemaiden Siffrin looks afraid, too. This time.

Like he didn’t expect the door to open.

It takes a lot of effort for the giant figure to crawl out of the tiny door. You’ve never thought the House doors were tiny until you saw someone the size of a bathroom have to squash and stretch their way through them. He’s wearing shiny armor, and his darkless hair trails on the floor in a long, long line, like a storybook princess. A spiked crown sits on top of his head, imposing and demanding. And he’s… crying. Wailing with every step. 

That’s… a monster?

No.

No, that’s. 

That’s - - !

“Mirabelle, eyes on me,” Housemaiden Siffrin whispers, from the pillar in front of yours. You position yourself behind your pillar, enough so that the big man can’t see you as he walks down the hallway.

You force yourself to breathe in and out in a steady rhythm. 

The man walks closer, almost passing Housemaiden Siffrin’s pillar. If he catches them, you’re certain they’re going to die… ! Even if you don’t know them very well, the thought of it sends tears down your cheeks.

“Don’t look away,” they say, clinging to their pillar. You hold onto yours. 

“But Si - "

“Don’t. Look. Away.”  

It’s hard to look at them with how much you’re crying. With how close the big shadow comes to plunging you into darkness. You want to rush forward and crawl into Siffrin’s arms, to have some kind of comfort from all of this, to tell them that you’ll stay with him and remember him and you’ll both leave the House together, unscathed, maybe go run into the woods like he always wanted,

and then

the man’s shadow plunges you into complete darkness

and you can’t see a single thing in front of you

memories start falling out of your brain again, again, like sand slipping through your fingers, you know this feeling, you know what it means

and you can’t do a single thing to stop it

not this time

There’s something wrong.

The House feels colder than it should.

Darker.

You need to get to Euphrasie. You don’t have any thoughts in the back of your mind except for that one. She's on the roof. You don’t know why you know this, but you do. Did someone tell you that? Or is it just instinct? It doesn't matter. This is going to be awkward to do in your pajamas, but you pick your nightgown up and start running down the hall as fast as you can. 

First, you need to get to the second floor. 

You run down the hall to the first floor’s foyer. A lot of other Housemaidens poke their heads out into the hallways. Lots of them are in pajamas, just like you, some of the more nocturnal ones in their work clothes.

“Mirabelle!” Fontaine runs into view with another orb in her arm, her partner holding her kid running not too far behind. “The alarm went off and then it stopped!”

“And then there was - um - " Fontaine’s partner drops their head into the toddler they’re holding, caught by a headache. “Something passed by us! Something dangerous?”

“It wasn’t a false alarm!” You run up to Fontaine and let your orbs touch. The siren goes off again. “Wheew, hopefully that wakes everyone up!”

“Hopefully!” Fontaine looks to her partner behind her. “Do you mind giving Deirdre your orb, if you’re looking for other ones? In case the alarm glitches out again?”

“Ah, good idea!” You’re about to give the orb to Housemaiden Deirdre, but there is a toddler in the way. And the toddler is making grabby hands at the orb. You slip the orb into their hands and they make a sharp wailing sound in agreement.

“That… works too!” Fontaine frowns, distressed. “Um. Mirabelle. I know we haven’t talked in a while, but - if you’re going farther up, you’ll keep yourself safe, won’t you?”

“I’ll do my best!”

Fontaine nods. “We’re going to lock all of the doors and seal - um - that thing in. And then… uh. Cross the next bridge when we get to it?”

That sounds like enough of a plan to you! You reach forward to hug Fontaine and continue your climb upwards.

You hear a click as you close the door behind you - someone’s locked it. 

No turning back, then.

Onto the second floor.

It’s a good thing you brought your sword - as other Housemaidens are waking up and starting to mobilize from the alarm, you notice some dark, weeping figures seep out of the corners of the walls. Sadnesses! What are they doing here?

You drive your rapier into one - thank Change you grabbed your real sword instead of your practice sword! - and it… is really strong. Really, really strong…! 

Change - ! It’s not like you have to fight real things very often. Sadnesses are so rare, you’re not even sure how this one got in!

With your sword lodged in its middle, it swings a fist near you, and you smell damp rocks in the air, so - oh no, you’re about to be slammed in the face with Rock Craft, and - !

You’re not hit with anything.

Because someone else was hit.

“Beatrice - " you shout out, as they jump in front of you to absorb the blow. You hear a faint crack, of bones snapping into each other. She - they were so nice to you when you first started living in the House, teaching you how to live here, how to keep yourself safe, and now… now they’re taking hits for you. It’s not fair!

They turn their head, smiling at you as if nothing happened. “Mirabelle! Did you know, you can tell the Craft type of a Sadness by looking at their hands?”

“Th - their…” You look past Beatrice to the Sadness in front of you, hands balled into fists. “Their hands.”

“And it’s not the best idea to get into solo fights with any Sadnesses that use Craft you’re weak to!” Beatrice sweats under the pressure of the attack, now, the Sadness still leaning into her. 

You can’t stand to see them like this, so - so - ! 

You’re not great with offensive craft, but you put your palm out past Beatrice’s shoulder and blast the Sadness with the strongest Paper skill you know…! 

And it doesn’t even make it budge.

Whew, these Sadnesses are strong! 

The House’s combat instructor runs over and pushes you away from the Sadness. Even with two people working on the Sadness, it’s too powerful for both of them. You want to help, but another handful of other Housemaidens step in to surround the Sadness. There’s no room for you to break in - and your only Paper skill is still on cooldown anyway, so… so you should just keep going, right??

Once again, when you get through the door, you hear it click on the other end. You’ll find the intruder and isolate him eventually, won't you?

Him, as if it’s a person you’re chasing. 

Your head is pounding, just like it did when you first got to the House - it… stopped, after a few years, didn’t it? You stopped going to the infirmary, stopped blacking out when looking at the stars. Stopped having days where your memory fuzzed out. And you never figured out why. 

Now that you’re thinking of it…

You don’t remember the entire year you were twenty-one. 

Or - you do, dimly, but it’s filled with giant shadows. Voices without origins. 

Is the him you’re looking for the same person as the intruder? Or are those two different people? 

You’re running through all of your memories as you find the stairs to the third floor. Something has to be in there, right? Something you can hold onto, something that isn’t made of sand, something that won’t sit down and give up just because of one bad day. 

Because, yes! Yes, it hurts, your head feels like it will split open, but you want to know what you’re missing! You can’t live with days, months, years taken out of your life. What if a good version of Mirabelle, a better version of her than you, what if she lives in the spaces you’re forgetting? 

What if there’s someone important hiding in the cracks?

One memory you have - there was a night you came home, running to your mother in a dirty, muddy dress - kind of like right now, actually. And you didn’t remember why you were all messed up, why there was mud on your dress, why you were crying. Once she was done chiding you for being so careless, your father said… that what you forgot must not have mattered so much, and not to worry about it.

…

As you’re running through the halls, chasing an intruder that nobody in the House can remember, you know he’s wrong. 

When you get to the third floor - 

The man is on the third floor.

The one you were trying to remember this whole time. 

He’s crying. 

As if he has the right to, with how he’s attacking all of the other Housemaidens!!!!

You need to get to the door, but you can’t just leave everyone here. Most Housemaidens have a weapon in hand, real or improvised - you do take a second to laugh nervously seeing Edwain with a folding chair - but the big man keeps swatting them away like flies. 

Your hand stutters on your sword.

You should fight, but can you take down somebody this big? 

You… hesitate too long.

The man’s hands start reaching your way, in a fist, and you, and you - 

You’re pushed out of the way. 

Toille narrowly avoids taking any damage for himself - but it’s a big fist and not that difficult to dodge. You know neither of you will be so lucky next time. When he roars, crying out so loud that it’s an attack on its own, everyone flinches. You don’t want to know what else he’s capable of. 

If he could go all around Vaugarde, practicing this kind of Craft without anybody noticing…

“Mirabelle, keep going!” Toille points to the door. “I - I think someone said something important is upstairs! On the roof!”

Trying to stay calm, you run past the giant man, leaving all of the other Housemaidens behind, blocking out the sound of them screaming behind you. Nobody locks it behind you, this time. So you don’t have a lot of time. You need to get to Euphrasie. Someone needs to warn her. You don’t know what she’d be doing on the roof at this hour, but someone - you know she’s there. That’s it. That fact sits at the back of your mind like a spider clinging to a wall. 

Like always, the door to the roof is locked. You were given the openphrase a long time ago, and it’s a good thing you remembered! You shout the phrase into the lock and swing the doors open.

It’s dark. A cloudless sky meets you, the wind whipping around you so hard you feel like it’s going to rip your sleeping bonnet off your head. The moon is out, full and low in the sky. A perigee moon. It’s so bright in the sky that the stars disappear into the universe behind it, dulled by the light. It’s a perfect backdrop, beautiful and imposing. 

And in front of the moon, taller than anyone else you’ve met in your life, stands Euphrasie. 

She doesn’t see you at first, perfectly content with her moon viewing. 

As if she’s fully unaware of the situation a floor under her.

You dash across the roof, bare feet slapping against the brick floor. It’s loud enough to catch Euphrasie’s attention. She looks over her shoulder and perks up when she realizes you’re the one behind her.

“Mirabelle!” Unaware of the emergency, Euphrasie smiles at you. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” It’s the middle of the night and she’s up on the roof. You can’t help but read suspicion into that.

“I was… asked to be up here?” Euphrasie turns around to look at the moon. “By who, I’m still unsure of, but the sky is awfully beautiful tonight - "

You’re the only one who knows what the sky is, and you want to interrogate why Euphrasie also knows that, but there isn’t any time! There isn’t any time at all.

You run up closer to Euphrasie, into a more comfortable conversation range. “Someone’s breaking into the House and freezing all of the Housemaidens!”

“Oh, so it’s - " Euphrasie turns to speak with you again. A flash of recognition hits Euphrasie’s eye. “It’s him.”

Him? Did Euphrasie know this was going to happen? Why didn’t she - why in the world didn’t she say anything? Why does she never say anything?? 

“Mirabelle, don’t cry, don’t cry!” Euphrasie reaches down to wipe your eyes. Oh. Were you crying? “I can Craft us a blessing that protects all of the Housemaidens from being frozen in time!”

“You can… do that?”

“If I have a sponsor for the wish to go to.” Euphrasie smiles, and holds out her hands in front of her. This makes sense - you know wishes need a sponsor, but… usually that’s something connected to the Universe, isn’t it? Is there something like that here?

A gust of sweet-smelling wind hits your face as Euphrasie crafts her wish. Hundreds of visions crawl into your periphery - snapping fingers and flashing lights, rain cascading down your face onto your own body, falling through the sky like a star.

Ringing bells, stars obscured by clouds, crying faces, broad hands with painted fingernails, light sparkling off of a long glasses chain, big boots on little feet, claws dug into an eye, mysterious strangers, darkless strands of hair, thread dragged over a meadow, games played in a frozen town, train horns over a heartfelt conversation, watching your friends change around you, spirals and circles, bodies orbiting each other, raindrop, stardust, waking up in a field with eyes pointed up at the clouds, a merciful blade plunged into your heart, weeping, drowning, the favor tree, the sky, the sky, the sky, the sky, the same sky over and over and over and over again, inut - 

It’s all flooding into your brain faster than you can separate the images and sensations. 

You stagger backwards. Euphrasie keeps you steady.

“This is, um - " You’re not sure what to think of this craft at all. You feel energized, sure, but it’s also… overwhelming? “What is this?”

“I’m not sure what you’re seeing…”

“Well, um - at least we can fix everyone else?”

“Mirabelle…” Euphrasie’s eyes darken. “It’s too late to save the rest of the House.”

The moon sits directly behind her, and you can’t see her expression well enough to name it. 

“The moment he stepped foot in Dormont was the moment we lost,” she says, too calm for the situation, too detached, “we don’t have the time to evacuate anymore.”

No, that - but if she can Craft something to make you immune to the curse, she must be able to un-freeze everyone in the house, right? You just need to go downstairs, and get past the giant man freezing people, and… and… and… !

“What we do have time for…” She squeezes your hands, and you feel the last of the Craft wash through you. “Is to send one of us away.” 

No.

No, no no no, no - 

“Not me,” you plead, shrinking away.

“Yes, you,” she insists, pulling you closer.

“Euphrasie, I can’t - "

“You don’t have to do it alone.” Euphrasie kneels down to meet you at eye level. “Run to Jouvente. It’s a couple weeks southwest on foot. They have a few Houses. One of them has to be willing to help, yes?”

“But - "

“Mirabelle.” Euphrasie puts a hand on your shoulder and looks over your head. “We seem to have a visitor.”

The air drops in temperature. You tilt your head, slowly, your breaths coming in labored and panicked. 

The armored man stands behind you, face dropped into his fists.

 
He’s crying, but you can’t underestimate him. Not after what he’s done to everyone you care about. It’s a ruse. Crocodile tears. If anybody was this distraught, they wouldn’t be spending the evening ransacking a House of Change. 

“Regulus,” Euphrasie says, as if she knows this person!!??

“Ooooh… young Housemaiden.” One of the man’s eyes pokes out from behind his fists. You can see the moon reflected in it. “… I know how much you value Vaugardian names. I’ve given a new one to myself.”

“Congratulations.” Euphrasie does not smile. Neither do you. “What do we call you now?”

“The King.”

Well, it’s awfully self-centered of him, but if it’s what he wants to be called… ! 

“And I’m sure you’re here to be civil and have a nice chat with us, aren’t you, King?” Euphrasie steps in front of you, her arm blocking you from the King, as if she’s the one immune from being frozen in time and not you. “Or is that not what you’re here for?”

“Oooooh……… ooooooooh… !!!” The King breathes in a large, comedic sniffle. “We are past the point of talking.”

You think…

You think that’s true.

You’ve talked to this man before.

You’ve slapped this man before.

Years ago. The context escapes you, but - but - ! If you were able to resolve this with words, it would have happened a long time ago. He’s already shown you that he’s beyond reason. Well - maybe his entire takeover of the House is more proof of that than a bad conversation with him years ago, but still. 

Your hand grips your sword - confidently this time. You can do this, can’t you? You can run up and fix this now. Be the hero for once.

Even though you don’t know what you’re doing.

Even though you don’t have any experience.

Even though you don’t think you can win.

“Mirabelle.” Euphrasie continues blocking you from the King. “You can’t defeat him as you are.”

“B-but…!” If you can’t do this now, with your blessing, with him right in front of you, how are you going to save the House? You don’t have time to go to Jouvente, you should end this right here, right now. You can’t be frozen, you’ll be - 

Euphrasie grips you under your armpits and holds you up to her height.

“Mirabelle, do you want to know what my favorite class I took in the House was?”

“Wh - what?” That doesn’t seem relevant right now.

“Wrestling,” she says, and then suplexes you over the side of the railing. 

You let out a startled WAUGH as you’re thrown off the rooftop, backwards, face to the stars above you. Your eyes go to the blank spot in the sky it always does, and you wish, you wish, you wish, not to crack your skull open and die when you land.

You might be imagining it, but you start to fall slower afterwards.

… You close your eyes and pray.

Pray to the Change God to keep you safe, to help you on this journey, to Change you into someone who can save House Dormont.

And Vaugarde too, while you’re at it.

You’re crying when you open your eyes again. As you sail through the sky, you watch your own tears separate from your face in the air. Floating in solidity, frozen in time in a way you can’t be anymore. You fall farther and farther from them, until they’re the same size as the stars around them in your eye, and then they disappear into the background. 

After a moment, you see something else fling off of the roof - the orbs - and. Oh. Oh, no. Now you’re locked out of the building entirely. Even if you can get enough strength, even if you can prepare yourself to fight, you’re locked out… !

Cool air washes over your arms as you fall. You hold your bag tight to your chest - you can hear a muffled ding-ding as your brooches rattle around in there. You wonder if someone - anyone - was able to make it out of the House. But maybe you should be more worried about yourself, falling through the sky like this. You don’t dare look down, but you wonder how far off away from the Earth you are.

From the ground, you must look like a falling star.

Chapter Text

You poke your head out from the top of the Favor Tree.

The House looks the same as it always does, from this distance. Pointy. Spiked. Corrupted. Unrecognizable, even with the years you've spent with it. Torn away from its original purpose because of someone's selfish wish.

Just like -

"You don't have to watch, you know," the star - in the most literal sense - says underneath you, rising up through the branches to join you in the canopy, "this is already overwhelming enough."

"You don't get to decide what's overwhelming for me," you say, wiping tears away from your face. It doesn't do any good. They're replaced instantly.

They gesture to your wet face. "I can make an educated guess. I've got context clues."

"It's involuntary."

"Sure." They raise a brow. "And everything leading up to this was also involuntary?"

You don't have to take this. You duck down into the branches before you get another lecture. Unfortunately, you're followed.

"I'm here to help," they add, shy.

"Not me." You climb down, refusing to look at their face. "Not this time."

Dimly, you wonder if this loop is going to end with a flash of light from the House. It wouldn't be the first one ended like that, but they're close to something worse; the betrayals haven't come yet, but you know the signs. The desperate side-glances, the morbid realizations, hands gripped too tightly onto their weapons. Once upon a time, this would have excited you - the catharsis, the schadenfreude, the dramatic irony! But now, it's just sad, watching the little party implode in on itself. It wasn't built to last, but it's forced to hobble forward all the same. All because of -

Because of her.

"Where are you going?" they ask, once you're back at the roots and walking towards town. "You're not going into Dormont like that."

"I am." The dirt and grass divots into mud with every step you take. A downpour. Great. "It's not like anyone will remember in a day."

You can tell from the look on their face. They want to offer to come walk with you. But they know how you are, now, and decide against it.

Not like you would have let them. You're long past being able to think of them in any kind of fond, uncomplicated way. There might still be some dormant soft feelings towards them, buried deep below, but your heart has long calloused over. It's too late for you now.

As you walk closer to the village, you wonder what everyone in Dormont would think of you. You've Changed, after all, and isn't that everything they ever wanted?

Well.

You don't find out this time.

Light flickers out of the top of the House, accompanied by a roar, and you know it's happening. Your foot hangs in the air, unable to take the next stairstep, unable to go forward. Stuck here, like you have been for years. That's all you're really good at. Trapping people like this.

You remember what you were like, the first few times.

So happy and innocent and stupid.

You land in the soft canopy of Dormont’s Favor Tree. 

A few branches whip into you, and that hurts, but it hurts a lot less than getting your skull cracked open onto the ground!

Geez, that’s weird! This is a lot farther from the House than you could naturally fall. 

But with how the House looks from here, you… think maybe time and space around it is warping uncontrollably. Because of… who was it? The King?

Your head throbs thinking about him, but you need to keep him in your mind. He’s important, because he’s trying to freeze all of Vaugarde. If you can't manage to remember that, everyone's going to be in trouble. And - oh, Change - you’re supposed to stop him?? You? Really?

You're... the only one who can, you suppose. Since you can't be frozen anymore. Still, if Euphrasie could make anybody immune to his curse, she should have given that to herself. You’re not qualified for this at all.

But.

You’ll have time to freak out later. You need to get out of this tree and go to Jouvente. It’s where Euphrasie said to go, so that has to be the smartest place to start. Even if it's... really far away on foot. Carefully, you climb down the branches of the Favor Tree. It’s really high up! But that makes sense, it’s the biggest tree in town.

Actually.

It’s a good chance to change your clothes. It’s pretty lame to go and save the country in your pajamas, isn’t it? It’s a quick fix, though. You find a wide, sturdy branch, unzip your bag, and use the canopy of the tree to shield you from anyone who’s in the forest in the middle of the night. Which is nobody, but you’d still like your bases covered.

… Okay! All changed. You continue your descent, this time with your brooches ding-dinging all the way down.

Your foot almost slips on the Favor Tree’s root as you get back to the ground. But, at least you’re not clumsy enough to slip and die now, after all of this. Phew!

Next question.

What are you going to do? 

At some point in your escape, you had the sense to pack a traveling bag. You don’t remember doing that, but everything’s in there. Except your medication. Which would be really nice to have right now. But… you could probably get more of that somewhere else. You have enough stuff in here to last you a few nights. Get yourself out of Dormont, to Jouvente, and... um...

So. The plan.

Um.

You suppose you should… find all of the rest of the orbs. And bring them back here. So that you can get into the House and kick the King out before he freezes the whole country? Since you’re the only one immune to the freezing curse, now? That would make the most sense. 

… Except that’s WAY too much to do on your own!

You! Mirabelle! Saving the whole country! Can you imagine that even a little bit? That’s more than an underdog story, that’s downright impossible. You? You had to be taught at nineteen how to keep your fingers safe from a knife. And now you’re saving the country. How? There’s nobody here to guide you, and… and that’s the only way you’ve ever been able to do anything. You always need help, you always need direction. You don’t have it now. You were just given a too-advanced craft blessing and thrown out into the world to deal with the problem on your own. Change - you’ve never even been outside Dormont before! How are you going to find your way around the country?

So now you’re crying. The whole country’s in danger and you’re spending valuable savior time crying. Like a baby. You’re immune to being frozen by the King, but not by your own indecision.

You just can’t help but feel useless. 

You look up at the sky, hoping it can give you advice. You like stargazing, but tonight your eyes snap to the blank spots in the sky. You wonder why there are so many spots in the sky where there are big, huge swaths of blank spaces.

Maybe you knew the answer, once upon a time. But it's not like you have a great memory. You remind yourself again - you're going to defeat the King, you're going to defeat the King, you're going to defeat the King. Reminding yourself is important. If you forget something like that, then... all of Vaugarde is doomed, isn't it? If only someone else could jog your memory when you can't produce the right answers, ha...

You hear a branch crunch behind you.

Your sword held tight in your hands, you whip around to defend yourself. You - you didn’t think about this, did you? Now you’re in the woods, in the middle of the night, no lantern. What if there’s a wild animal, or a bandit, or - or what if the King had some kind of assassin ordered to kill you??

What if - 

“Mirabelle?”

A lantern light pokes out from behind the Favor Tree. A Housemaiden you’ve never met steps out from behind its roots. They’re a couple centimeters shorter than you, scrawny, without any Change brooches on. There’s a pendant on their hip, which might have been a bell once upon a time - now, it just looks like a squashed piece of metal, as if it was smashed onto a concrete floor. 

Wait, um… you know who this is, right? Right!

Vaguely, and not very well. It's not like the two of you were friends. But the House isn't that big. If you couldn't remember someone out of the small roster of Housemaidens, less than a hundred, then you'd really, really be worried for your memory.

But you know them! This is a familiar face!! You had the same Joining Ceremony, they work on the third floor, they have a deadly pineapple allergy, he's quiet and reserved and - oh, Change, when the King visited the House years ago, they were constantly antagonized by him, weren't they? Breaking this news is going to be difficult. If only you knew each other better, you'd have an easier time explaining this all to them.

“Housemaiden Siffrin?”

The Housemaiden’s breath hitches when you say their name. You can’t ask if that was rude; they’re too quick. He fixes his face to be more… distant.

“Stars, you look awful.” He steps out from the foliage and brings the lamp closer to you. “Are you crying?”

Oh, Change, you still are. This is pathetic. You wipe off your face and rush towards them. “S-sorry! I just. You. Um.”

“I-it’s fine?” They set the lantern down on the ground and gesture for you to sit down across from them, on the ground. “Breathe with me?”

He clumsily helps you through a breathing exercise. It’s hard. You’re still crying, and you can barely see out of your own eyes with how gloopy your tears are. Housemaiden Siffrin does not touch you, because of course they don’t, but… Change, you could really use a hug right now. You understand why you’re not getting one, though. They've always been distant from everyone else in the House.

“It happened while you were gone, this big, huge, awful, horrible man came into the House, and he, he…!”

“Whoa, hang on,” he interrupts your explanation, trying to tame you as if you’re a spooked horse, “come on, Mirabelle, keep breathing…”

They breathe in, and you follow them. They breathe out, and you do too. 

“The House,” you say, pointing behind you, “it’s frozen in time.”

“… Yeah.” Housemaiden Siffrin reaches inside of their Housemaiden robes and pulls out one of the evacuation orbs. “I was trying to evacuate.”

Thank Change! “Oh, one of them, at least…!”

“What do you mean, one of them.” They stare at you blankly. “Don’t you have the rest? The other Housemaidens?”

“Um… no, I was the only one who didn’t…” You look back in the direction of the House. “… Get frozen.”

Euphrasie is there. Claude is there. Toille is there. Fontaine, Edwain, Beatrice, the cook, the librarian, even - even Marc! Teeny, tiny little Marc, not even a teenager yet! And dozens more! Nearly a hundred! That’s - that’s so many people with their lives cut short. Unable to Change. You might not want to Change, you’re not capable of it, but everyone in the House? Sending them to a fate of stagnation? 

You… you’re the one that has to drag them out. 

There’s no way.

“Mirabelle…”

… This is no time for a breakdown, Mirabelle. Housemaiden Siffrin is looking at you, every expectation on your shoulders - they’re looking to you for some kind of guidance, a way out of this. And, while you technically have that, it’s not as if you have any faith in yourself.

But you better scrounge up some of it quick.

No need to drag Housemaiden Siffrin into your melancholic spiral.

You do your best to pull a smile. “So, well, it’s just us!”

“Can’t we go back in and get the rest of the orbs?”

“The House is already sealed shut.” You look up at the sky. You can’t see any of the orbs anymore, they’ve all made it to their… destinations. Wherever that is. “The King flung the orbs all around the world, I think.”

“What.”

“What did you think the orbs were for?”

“Euphrasie said they were to lock the door, but - but if they’re not here there’s got to be another way to open it, like - ” he gestures, “- some weird Vaugardian thing? A Change thing?”

“Well, um, what’s supposed to happen, is we’re supposed to get all of the orbs and evacuate the House…” You give an abridged explanation of the House evacuation protocol. “And then seal up the House using the orbs so that nobody can get inside but the Housemaidens in charge of the orbs?”

He nods, annoyed, as if he already knew all that. “And what happened instead?”

“… The King flung all of the orbs away and now we can’t get inside the House to stop him.” 

Housemaiden Siffrin’s eyes twitch in annoyance. They won’t stop staring at you. It’s… not helping.

“Um. Housemaiden Siffrin?”

He stops staring at you, cursing into the collar of their cloak. “You’re all so… obtuse.”

“Obtuse?”

“Why would you make the House lock like that in the first place?” They kick at the ground, frustrated. “Why do you have the Death Corridor if it doesn’t kick out weirdoes that stop time?”

You… don’t have the energy to redirect their annoyances. “I didn’t design it, Housemaiden Siffrin.”

“Yeah? I know that?” When they fix their eyes back on you, their expression is hauntingly neutral. “I didn’t mean you, you, I meant you, Change.”

“I don’t… see the difference?”

He deflates. Somehow, that was the wrong response.

You’re not winning any part of this conversation tonight. Whatever. It’s not like Housemaiden Siffrin is known for their sociability. It’s probably not you. Is what you say to make yourself feel better. Deep, deep down you know it is you. So you should get as far away from them as possible. He shouldn’t have to deal with your… problems. You’re going to save the rest of the Housemaidens, which you guess includes Housemaiden Siffrin. 

You force yourself to stand up. “I’m going to Jouvente.”

“Where’s that?” 

“Southwest of here.” You pick up your bag and sling it over your shoulder. 

“… Why?” He stands up after you, curious.

“Because it’s a big city and I’m sure there’s lots of people that can help. That’s what Euphrasie said.” You’re going to need a lot of it. There’s no way you’re doing this on your own.

“Okay.” Housemaiden Siffrin scowls at the House. “I can’t go back and get my things, right?”

Huh? “Why would you need to get your things?”

“Because we need to get the orbs?” Housemaiden Siffrin blinks at you. “That’s what you said.”

Oh, so now they’re willing to help, all of a sudden???

It’s - no, Mirabelle, don’t be unkind. This is a good thing! You won’t be alone. It’s good to have a road buddy. It means you won’t be mauled by animals on the trip, you can share supplies! And, maybe - maybe you can find it in you to be friends with Housemaiden Siffrin? He’s pretty distant, but… it’s hard to be distant when you’re traveling the country with someone. You can crack them wide open!

The idea of that is actually a little exciting, now that you’re thinking of it! Giving yourself a smaller, less world-ending problem to worry about instead of the King and the Orbs and Euphrasie and everyone you left behind, and - 

You breathe in, and out. 

Housemaiden Siffrin watches you, a weird amount of kindness in their eyes. “Did you get everything you needed out of the House?”

“I got most things…” You forgot your anxiety medication, though. That’s… not ideal. “You don’t have anything on you, though.”

“I didn’t get… um. My traveling clothes. So I’m still in these robes.” He shrugs. “But I’ll get by.”

That’s… sad. You hope it’s not going to be like that for very long. You don’t have any money on you, but you should at least get Housemaiden Siffrin a weapon. With the King freezing everything around him, there’s probably going to be a lot of Sadnesses on the road. 

It’s dark, and you shouldn’t travel at night, but you need to get away from here before the time curse comes to swallow up Housemaiden Siffrin. Even if you’re immune to it, that doesn’t mean everyone else is. Maybe you should go to Dormont proper first - it’s likely not frozen yet, and you might be able to get some extra supplies from there before you head out, if you show that you’re trying to stop the curse.

“Let’s go?”

Housemaiden Siffrin nods, and you lead the way.

You take a few steps away from the House. There’s no use in saying goodbye to it yet - you’ll be back as soon as you can get the orbs! 

… You hear footsteps behind you.

Frantically, you turn around, and it’s -

 
Oh. It’s Housemaiden Siffrin.

When did they get here? If they’re here, did anyone else from the House make it out safely? And there’s a pendant on their hip, which might have been a bell once upon a time - now, it just looks like a squashed piece of metal, as if it was smashed onto a concrete floor. 

“Housemaiden Siffrin, when did you - "

They bunch up their robes in their hands and scream into it. 

Weird! 

“Don’t worry about it. You walk too slow.” Housemaiden Siffrin cuts in front of you. “I’ll lead.”

????????? WHAT IS THEIR PROBLEM.

F… fine? Fine? You let them cut in front of you and lead. You ask them why they’re here, how they’re here, and you get a lot of lies and half-answers.

 
None of that is what you want, but…

It’s nice not to be alone, right now.

Chapter Text

It’s… weird.

When you’re gathering supplies in Dormont, everyone is so… hopeful. They’re so glad they have someone like you volunteering to go and save Vaugarde. That you’ll keep them safe, that you know what you’re doing. They look at you as if you’re competent, and skilled, and likable, and… 

It’s not at all how any of them treated you when you lived in town. 

They’re praising you for your work as a Housemaiden, they’re acting like they’re proud to be the hometown of a future savior of Vaugarde. Not just any savior, a capital-S Savior! As if it’s not even a question that you’ll be able to defeat the King. As if you’ve already won. As if this won't be hard, and it's just a simple thing to run all around the country to grab the orbs to unlock the House again. No acknowledgement of the danger you're in, because you're immune from being frozen, and isn't that so cool? But you're not immune from... anything else that could put you in danger.

When you try to explain the blessing that Euphrasie crafted for you in greater depth, they assume the Change God blessed you. And - oh, ohhhhh, no, you really do not have the resolve to correct anyone. Maybe that’s just a rumor that will stay in Dormont and die in Dormont… ! It would be really awkward if that reputation followed you around, since you’re… um… you’re not certain you’re going to be very good at this saving the country thing. 

You’re given food and some light armor and a little bag of coins to start you out on your journey. It feels bad to take free things from them, but… you know you’d be toast if you tried walking into towns without any money. You should have a good meal before you leave. The armor will protect you. A dead person with a blessing is still dead, after all, and then who would be able to save the House? Just because you think someone else could do your job better doesn’t mean you’re unaware of the responsibility on your shoulders. 

It makes those responsibilities… more oppressive, sure. Especially when you don’t have your medication on you. You are not looking forward to hiking all day while going through medicine withdrawals. Especially when Dormont's chemist lives... in the House. Which is still frozen. So. Tiny little anxieties you thought you left at the door start creeping up again - you’re worried about how people are looking at you when you eat, your inability to look at anyone in the eye, that stupid little hitch in your breath whenever somebody calls your name unexpectedly.

“Mirabelle, it’s me!” Yeah, like that. “From school!” 

Who’s talking to you? You can’t even begin to guess which of your old school friends this is. They’ve probably Changed so many times that they’re a completely different person more than a couple Changes over. Their face isn’t familiar. Their hair isn’t familiar. Their clothes, their body, their voice - all different! Who is this supposed to be?

“I’m so glad you got into Change, finally! Since your mom was so weird about it! Maybe, even though the world might end and you’re going to have a bad time, it’ll be like a pilgrimage? Maybe you’ll Change from this?”

They’re so happy to push this on you, without even offering to help.

You nod along as they keep piling platitudes on you, ones that you’re certain nobody in town would have given you when you lived there. It’s not that you mean to think of any of these people unkindly, you’re so grateful for all their food and their money and their compliments, it’s just…

Why now?

Why here, when you’re at your lowest, and not back when you still had the space to appreciate this kind of help?

This would have made a difference to you five years ago. It feels empty now.

Now, you don’t need words, and you don’t need equipment, or money, you need… actual help. You need somebody to walk you through this, to link their arm through yours and weather the storm next to you. Somebody that won't be scared if you break down and cry. Somebody that you can share your worries with, so that neither of you have to be crushed by the load of something so heavy. Someone who can get really, genuinely happy when you overcome something huge, someone who you can cheer on when they overcome their own hurdles.

When you get a moment alone, you look through your papers.

Is that the kind of companionship you’re looking for? Is this what it’s like to want a relationship?

If that’s the case - this is awful. This must be why people are so eager to date and kiss and stick together. Otherwise, you’ll just be… alone. 

Because - because! What other relationship is supposed to stay? Your parents haven’t come out to visit you, even through this big loud party that’s all about you. Your old friends were happy to let you go into the House without any resistance, no tearful goodbyes. Your Housemaidens, they… they’re comforting to you, yes, but what does that matter when that can all be taken away in an instant by some tyrant? Euphrasie, she was always so nice to you, so caring, but she left you with questions and mysteries that you don't have the capacity to solve.

You ask Dormont, “does anybody else want to come help me with the King?”

And they answer, “who is that?”

So.

You’re going to have to do this alone.

When you leave town the next morning, you prepare for your single-person journey out in the wild. Mopey and sad and stupid, your legs like lead as you walk to the road out of town. Traveling is so long on foot, and you don’t even have the decency of a conversation partner.

And then you hear the bushes shake, and… Housemaiden Siffrin walks out.

Oh, right! You - you’re not doing this all by yourself! He just didn’t want to follow you into town. For whatever reason. They’re very shy. It would be cute of them if it wasn’t so… inconvenient. Are they going to refuse to walk into Jouvente, too?

“So how far away is Jouvente?” he asks, starting to walk exactly southwest. 

Which is nice, that they remembered that’s where you’re going, but, um - the road to Jouvente does go south quite a bit before the west part starts to come into play, so you gently guide Housemaiden Siffrin onto the main road. “On foot? They said it would be… um…two weeks or so, if we walk for eight hours every day.”

“So if we walk for sixteen, it’ll be just be one week?”

“Do you really think we could walk for sixteen hours straight, Housemaiden Siffrin?”

He shrugs. “It’s an emergency.”

Oh, great. Your one traveling companion is just… all business, you guess. 

It’ll be better than nothing.

You walk for six hours before Housemaiden Siffrin can't go any further.

"What happened to sixteen hours straight?" you ask, allowing yourself to be just a little bit cheeky.

"I - " They wheeze. Oh, maybe you shouldn't be so rude... "Does walking make you tired???"

"Um, yes???" How in the world does someone Housemaiden Siffrin's age not know that? "If you do a lot of it at once, at least."

Housemaiden Siffrin stares at you, blank. As if they really, really didn't know. You would assume they were joking, that this was a prank or a bit, but. He looks so upset. They reach up to shake the sweat out of their hair - it's almost summer, after all, and the sun's been on you all day - oh, oh no...! Their undyed hair at the very base of his roots is so light, and their hairtype is so thin and fine, you're worried they might have gotten a scalp sunburn. It feels like he should have a hat, but...

"..................... two weeks is fine," he says, after a moment, "for getting to Jouvente."

You do not laugh, because that would be very rude. But you can't hide the puff of air that knocks against your sinuses.

Luckily, it gets a weak laugh out of Housemaiden Siffrin.

On your way to Jouvente, you feel the presence of an orb on the road.

So of course you need to follow it and track it down!

Housemaiden Siffrin isn’t so happy to follow the trail, but he can get over it!! 

“This is the whole reason we’re out here, Housemaiden Siffrin,” you explain, “why are you so… um… "

You don’t want to call them rude, or huffy, or mean - even if that’s what they’re being right now! - because you’re still basically strangers to each other. That’s a pretty bad way to start off a friendship with someone, isn’t it?

“We don’t have a lot of daylight.” Housemaiden Siffrin looks up at the sky, worried. “And if the next town isn’t for a while, then, uh…”

Oh. Right.

You need a place to sleep.

Why didn’t you think of that? Of course that’s why Housemaiden Siffrin is nervous - you’ve been roughing it out in the wild, no tents or bedrolls or anything - for almost a week, and finding any kind of place to stay is… a challenge. When you can get to a town, there’s no problem! Most villages have people who don’t mind lending an extra room or a couch to a stranger for a night. Since you’re a Housemaiden on a pilgrimage (does this count as a pilgrimage if it’s saving the country?), you haven’t had to pay anything to these kind people yet.

Even if you’ve offered.

But you should also save your money. You don’t have much of it. 

So, yes, even though Housemaiden Siffrin is right to be worried about finding a dry, safe spot to sleep in the forest for the night, you’re still set on finding this orb. Because!! What if it moves while you’re sleeping? You don’t know if it can do that, but you’re not in any position to find out.

The King has all the time in the world to freeze Vaugarde.

You don’t have as much time to save it. 

Both you and Housemaiden Siffrin are young and nimble. What’s a few uncomfortable nights in the forest between friends? That is, if you… were friends.

He’s a distant person. They take their meals and eat waaaaay off in the distance from you. He only speaks when spoken to, unless you're really upset, and then they'll get this annoyed look on their face and walk over to help you. When you get into a town, they peel off of you as soon as possible and you don’t see them at all until you’re about to leave. You’ve tried to ask him to stay near you in towns, but…

They always brush you off and say it makes things harder if they hang out around too many people.

… You don’t know if that’s true or not. But he believes it is. And that’s serious enough for you to worry. Because if their fear is true - well, that’s a problem! And if it’s not true, then that’s also a problem, but more of a psychological one.

Neither are great options.

Housemaiden Siffrin demands to walk in front of you at all times. It’s weird, but you’re getting used to it. You direct them through forest bramble and underbrush, playing hot-and-cold with the familiar, magical feeling of an object crafted from your House. Things from House Dormont have their own fingerprint, their own heat signature. 

It’s closer, closer, and you direct Housemaiden Siffrin in the right places. Sometimes, it means directing them right into the trunk of a tree, but they only bump their nose a few times! Not enough to bleed, phew! 

You still feel bad leading them right into danger, though.

But maybe that’s what this whole journey is, on a broader level.

Eventually, the orb searching leads you to a clearing, and a cabin in the woods.

“Lucky us,” Housemaiden Siffrin sneers, “a place to sleep and an orb?”

“Why are you mad that we found shelter?” You can’t help being a little sassy towards them - they’re the one always insisting on sleeping outside because they ‘don’t want to bother’ people in towns!! “Something good happened, Housemaiden Siffrin!”

“This is the MOST suspicious thing in the Universe.”  

“No it’s not!” You puff your cheeks at them. “People live outside of towns sometimes!”

“… Do they?” Housemaiden Siffrin leans away from you, suspicious, squinting. “Then why didn’t you - nevermind. Are we just going to break into someone’s house, then?”

“We-well!!” You didn’t think this far ahead. “If there’s an orb in there, we do need to investigate… "

“So we need to break in.”

“Not break in!” You shake your head and storm up onto the cabin’s front porch. “We can just knock on the door!”

… Which is very easy to say, but not easy to do.

“Mirabelle.”

“I can do it!!!!” You raise your fist to the front door, determined. 

And then.

Um.

“Housemaiden Siffrin.” You turn your head, fist still raised, eyes welling over in tears. “What if an axe murderer lives in there…!”

“Then you’d probably be happy to meet them?” Housemaiden Siffrin gives you a long-suffering smile - ah, they must know about the kinds of books you like to read? But only your really close friends know about that. It’s kind of an embarrassing hobby… !

You… don’t know how you feel about Housemaiden Siffrin knowing something so personal about you.

But it at least takes you out of your anxiety enough to drum up enough enthusiasm to knock on the door.

Which doesn’t matter too much, because nobody answers.

“Alright, now we need to break in?” Housemaiden Siffrin asks, joining you on the porch. His hands go to the windows, looking for the easiest way to open them. They pull at the window, finding it unlocked. “It’s not breaking and entering if you don’t break to enter, so - "

“It is!”

“Then they need to name it something else,” they say, latching the window open. “Be right back?”

He slips inside before you can stop them. Great…! You’re going to be in so much trouble. With who? You don’t know. Maybe the homeowners. If they ever come back to this cabin. It doesn’t look frozen, not yet, so maybe the people who live here are fine, it’s just… eerie. 

Seconds later, Housemaiden Siffrin unlocks the door from the other side and lets you in. Your foot hovers over the threshold of the door for slightly too long before you’re able to plant it on the floorboards inside.

It’s cozy! Cute! Nice!! 

It’s all dark-toned wood and deep, checkered fabrics. Not your preferred aesthetic, but it’s cute for a cabin in the middle of the woods! Very rugged. It feels like maybe a cool lumberjack lived here, or some mysterious novelist, or maybe - maybe this was a romantic getaway?? 

If that’s the case. Ew.

Yes, it’s a fun idea in theory, but in real life - well. You just hope someone came by to wash the cushions every once in a while.

It’s a tiny little four-room cabin. One room with the kitchen, living room, and a little breakfast nook. One for the bathroom. Two bedrooms. You wander around, looking for the source of the Craft you felt, and Housemaiden Siffrin rummages around in the kitchen.

“All of the food in the cabinets is rotted or stale,” Housemaiden Siffrin says, nose all twisted up, “so I don’t think anyone… "

Well. That would also explain the heavy layer of dust on every surface in here. At least that means you’re not intruding? 

“We could find the orb and sleep here, then?” It’s not as weird to sleep in an abandoned cabin, but - waugh - is it dangerous? “Housemaiden Siffrin, what if this cabin is haunted???”

“First there’s an axe murderer in here, then it’s haunted.” Housemaiden Siffrin sighs out. “This is starting to sound like a wishlist.”

… Okay, maybe it would be a little cool if there was a ghost in here.

You open the door to the bathroom. No internal plumbing. Just a hole in the floor. Well, not every surprise cabin in the woods can be perfect… 

The first bedroom door has -

Oh.

“What is it?” Housemaiden Siffrin asks, walking over once he senses your hesitation. They look past you into the room. “What’s that?”

You’re… surprised they don’t know. Maybe Housemaiden Siffrin didn’t have any siblings? Well, you didn’t either, and you still know what a crib is…

Light, gauzy fabric drapes over it from the ceiling. It looks like the crib’s railings were carved by someone who really loved who it was made for - it’s definitely custom made. Little hand-sewn toys and hand-carved wooden blocks are scattered in the crib and around the floor. There are heavy quilts draped all over the room, and a rocking chair, and a changing table too. The window is open, wind gently rustling against the curtains. 

The orb isn’t in there, so you… close the door.

Housemaiden Siffrin watches you, confused. “What - "

“Maybe we shouldn’t disturb that room,” you say, with a pained smile, “it seems important, right?”

They hesitate, and then nod. 

He walks past you to open the second door. You wonder what emotionally fraught piece of symbolism will meet you past there…! 

Well.

This one’s a lot less metaphorical. 

An inhuman, weeping shadow sits at a giant, crying loom in the middle of the room. It shouldn’t exist, it can’t exist - but that’s how Sadnesses are. They’re irrational, physical manifestations of people’s most intimate emotional spirals. The more human-like figure operating the crying loom has a cloud for a head, tears falling down out of the head like a thunderstorm. It creates fabric using the other Sadness, which has a guillotine at the end of it, chopping off ends of the cloth as it passes through, so that the bigger Sadness has to keep starting over. 

They’re both dependent on each other, one the warp and one the weft, but there’s a hostility between the two that threatens to tear them both apart.

“A - “ You gasp out. “Housemaiden Siffrin! That’s a Sadness!!”

“What’s a Sadness?”

“You… don’t know?” That’s… really weird. Even though you haven’t seen that many Sadnesses, you still know what they are! “In… times of distress, or war, when lots and lots of people are so sad that they can’t bear it… when it’s about to break them completely… a Sadness appears.”

Housemaiden Siffrin squints at you. “Wait, so is this a dead person?”

“No! It’s just, um, the physical manifestation of what’s bothering them?” 

“… And, we’re going to beat it up?”

“We have to.”

“Do we?” 

Well - yes! Right? This isn’t a person, it didn’t use to be a person. Morally, there’s nothing weird or wrong about taking it down. It’s unsafe to let something like this roam around, isn’t it? There’s not a lot of reason for Housemaiden Siffrin to have this big of an aversion to attacking something so hostile. 

It’s not hostile yet, but - but they always are. As far as you know. So once it sees you, once it takes its crying eyes off of its own loom, it’s going to jump at you and send you into battle.

And, besides, with the dark orb bouncing on the fabric of the loom, you can’t leave this one alone.

“Well, regardless of how we feel about Sadnesses…” You point to the orb nestled behind all of the intricate wooden slats moving around the loom. “They have one of the orbs!”

“So I guess we have to fight it.”

“We do…!” You look Housemaiden Siffrin up and down, raising a brow. “Um. Do you have a weapon?”

“… No.” Housemaiden Siffrin makes a little scissors sign in the air. “I can do Craft.”

“But without any kind of channeling weapon, you’ll burn yourself out!” You gently wave Housemaiden Siffrin backwards, until they’re standing up against the wall. “It won’t do us any good if you’ve got Craft exhaustion on the road!”

“But - "

“No buts!” You bring out your rapier, and point it to the two Sadnesses, and… pause. “Y-you could, um. Help me with strategy though?”

“How do I - "

“I just need someone to talk to!!!!” You grip the hilt of your sword and look at your two enemies. “Um. Before I left the House, Beatrice said… you can tell their Craft type by looking at their hands.”

But only one of them has hands, right? The big figure at the back, who passes fabric between her hands in a circular motion. Palms flat, fingers together. Creative Craft. That’s easy!! That means it’ll be weak to Scissors attacks.

The second one, though…

“It’s not a hand, but - " Housemaiden Siffrin shrugs at the loom. “If it’s got a guillotine on it, it must be Piercing, right?”

Ah! It sure does! 

You worry at your lip. “I don’t know any Rock Craft…”

“That’s better than being weak to it, right?” They shrug. “Just because you don’t have any kind of damage that will take it down in one shot doesn’t mean that hitting it with Scissors is useless.”

“That’s true…!” Phew, you’re glad Housemaiden Siffrin is here to stave off your perfectionism! 

“And you should hit the machine one first.” Housemaiden Siffrin points at it lazily, and you feel a distant familiarity with how they’re talking shop with you - but that makes sense, you likely had the same combat teacher in the House. “You’re resistant to both Scissors and Paper damage, right? But it’ll be easier for you to take down the Paper one, since your sword does Scissors, so go for the stronger one first.”

That’s weird. Most people in the House know you’re a dual type, sure, but they don’t know what you are and aren’t weak to at a glance. That’s one of the advantages of being a dual type in competitions… but Housemaiden Siffrin clocked you as being strong to both Scissors and Paper immediately? Maybe enough people are catching onto your strengths and weaknesses.

Well! That doesn’t matter! You’re confident enough to step forward and start fighting this thing!

It can’t be as strong as the one in the House, can it??

Once it notices you, it lunges forward.

You stumble on your first few turns. Most of your time is spent dodging, or taking a bad hit and healing yourself immediately after. It is two against one. You’re constantly on the defensive. 

“I-I’m - " Housemaiden Siffrin jumps in right behind you, still one step out of the battle but more involved. “If I stay in here, I can pass my turn to you? So then the fight’s more even?”

Oh! That’s a good idea!! 

They can’t do it on every one of their turns - for one thing, they’re faster than you and get so many turns that you don’t! But for another thing, it seems like passing his turn to you takes some kind of energy, something like a cooldown but slightly different. It’s not Craft, after all.

But it does help! It’s not very kind to think about Housemaiden Siffrin this way, but now that there are two of you, you’re not getting hit over and over again. The damage is spread out between the two of you pretty evenly. You might be able to do this!

Since you’re only one person fighting, and it’s a big pair of enemies, it’s still a lot of time to get them both fully down on your own. Out of the corner of your mind, you think you’ve done four Scissors attacks in a row, which means… ! 

You feel the air around you sparkle with Piercing Craft as you drive your rapier into one of the Sadnesses for the fifth time. There’s so much in the air that you need to direct it somewhere, or else this whole building’s going to go down - but you heard about this in combat class, once! There’s some technical explanation - how the Craft is so strong that the person themselves becomes the medium for directing the Craft, so even people who aren’t the same type as the Craft in the air can wield it temporarily. It doesn’t come up in competitions so often, but if you can land five attacks of the same craft type on an enemy, anyone can direct that Craft into the enemy - even if they’re unarmed. 

So - 

Reaching behind you, you call for Housemaiden Siffrin. “Can we - "

Without you needing to finish that sentence, he reaches forward and lets you pull them properly into battle. 

Both of you run at the Sadness, hitting it with all your strength, and with a final weeping wail, the Sadness dissipates into thin air. You rush to grab the orb before it falls and shatters on the ground.

Pheeeeeeeeew…! 

You turn around and focus your attention on Housemaiden Siffrin. It was nice of them to help out! “We did it, Housemaiden Si - "

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” 

“It’s not Housemaiden Siffrin.” He refuses to make eye contact with you, crossing his arms across their chest petulantly. “It’s just Siffrin.”

“But you’re in Housemaiden’s robes - "

“I don’t follow Change.”

Siffrin tends to make little sarcastic jabs at you, but this is… genuine discomfort. You can’t be too surprised that there was someone in the House that didn’t believe in Change - that was you, for a good few years! But you didn’t admit that as freely as Siffrin seems to.

“Then… why were you… "

This must be a touchy subject for them. He can’t even look at you properly.

“There’s a curse on me.” They’re embarrassed to admit it, you think, with the way they’re shrinking into their robes. “People can’t remember me if they’re not looking at me.”

That… feels right. You only think of Siffrin when you’re within a few meters of them, don’t you? When he leaves your side and you go into a town, it takes you a minute to remember Siffrin when you get back. It only takes the beginnings of a conversation for you to get back onto the same page with him, but that’s still a delay that can’t be comfortable. 

Is this part of the King’s curse, too? You could hardly remember the King when you escaped out of the House, and you still can’t keep a hold on him very well. It’s only when you see something frozen, or think about the journey you’re on, that he pops into your mind. Maybe he freezes some people and makes other people forgettable in the same way he is. If that’s the case…! Oh, that must be really, really uncomfortable for Siffrin!

“Oh… Siffrin.” You frown, disturbed at the idea that you’re missing something about Siffrin. “That’s why you don’t like going into towns, isn’t it?”

He nods.

“And why I don’t remember seeing you in the House?”

They can’t look you in the eye, but nods again.

You think. Can you remember anything about Siffrin?

Every time you try, you just get vague shadows. You can tell you’re missing something, but not what you’re missing or to what extent. 

Okay! You can commit to trying to work on this. That can be something to focus on. A goal!

“I’ll do my best to remember you, how’s that?”

“It helps to know you’re trying to,” Siffrin says, as if it’s a practiced line in a play he’s rehearsing. But they stumble over it, the line coming out sniffly and wet. 

You wonder how many times they’ve said that to you. 

Siffrin’s pretty cold to you, but… hey, you’d be cold to everyone too if you didn’t know if they’d remember you in five minutes! Were you friends, in the House? Is that why they’re so… playfully snippy at you? You were reading that as antagonism, a little bit, but if this is your friend, it’s… nice to tease each other. That’s a type of friendship. 

There wasn’t anyone you really, truly hated in the House. It’s not out of the question that Siffrin has some lingering, long-standing feelings of fondness towards you. This is a stressful journey, and you might be the only thing he can grab onto for comfort. And you… you’re not putting in the work. You didn’t even realize they were under the curse until right now! 

If there’s nothing you can do when you can’t remember him… well. That just means you’ll have to make the time with them that you can remember meaningful, right?

“So it’s not dark yet, but should we turn in for the night here?” You fix your face into a smile you hope is comforting. “So that we don’t have to sleep in a tree?”

“Maybe.” Siffrin presses hands into his eyes, doing their best not to get too emotional. “It’ll slow us down, though.”

“We’ll be more energized tomorrow if we get better sleep!” And… it’s not going to be good for Siffrin to push himself this far. “We’ve been going at it so diligently this whole week, I think we deserve a little break!”

You need time to build your relationship back up with Siffrin, from whatever state it was at before. This is going to be an important part of the journey - you need a reason to remember them! And, maybe, if you make yourself safe enough - maybe they’ll tell you what kind of friendship the two of you are supposed to have? It’s not exactly great that you’re forgetting one of your friends, now that you’re thinking of it.

“Okay.” They take in a deep breath and smile at you softly. “Whatever you think is best.”

“We don’t have to sleep in shifts tonight!” You grin. “I’ll sleep on the couch!”

“No, I’ll sleep on the couch,” Siffrin offers.

You shake your head. “No, no! Um, I’m the one that took us off course, I’ll take the couch.”

“And I didn’t get to help you in the fight until the end, so I’ll take the couch,” they add, insistent. 

“No, no, the strategy and the turn-giving was helpful, I’ll take the couch as thanks.”

“I’m taking the couch,” he insists, “because you’re always carrying around that heavy bag, you need the rest.”

“But I - " You can’t finish, and dissolve into laughter.

“Mirabelle?” 

“Sorry! Sorry.” You wipe away the building moisture on your face, half from nerves and half from laughing so hard. “We’re too similar, aren’t we?”

Except, you know, Siffrin is way cooler than you, with all of their lockpicking knowledge and the way they calmed you down during that fight and how he’s - 

“I mean, not really?” They laugh, once. “You’re way cooler?”

A little fit of giggles bubble up in your throat again, and then you’re doubled over laughing again. Of course! Of course, this is what you’re both like. 

Siffrin is super duper wrong about you being cool, but it’s… funny. How similar your anxieties are. 

Maybe you should be putting more effort into befriending them.

“I think I might do a little stargazing before bed.” Nobody else you’ve ever met knows what that is, but you figure you should offer anyway! “Do you want to join?”

“Yeah,” he says, immediate, “I’d love to.”

Alright! You should be prepared for answering a lot of questions, then! When it gets dark, you go into the bedroom and pull out a spare blanket, shake all the spiders out, and lay it out on the ground outside. 

You look to the empty spaces in the sky. It’s weird that your eye always snaps to these when you first lay down. There’s all of this great expanse of beautiful stars, and you want to look at the void? Well. It’s probably not a void, it’s probably just a cloud covering the stars. That happens! Or at least you think it happens. It’s not like you can see the clouds as clearly at night, so. 

Weirdly, you don’t have to answer any questions about the sky for Siffrin. He knows. They even know the names of stars you didn’t - constellations, and planets you can see from Earth, too! They know so much, and it’s really impressive! It’s so impressive you feel a little bit like a fake, ha… but Siffrin isn’t that bothered by your lack of knowledge.

“If you knew what the sky was this whole time…” You sigh out. “Geez, we should have done this when we both lived at the House! Nobody else would ever come do this with me!!”

Siffrin goes quiet. 

You wonder if you said something wrong, and then - 

“… Do you ever think you’re bad at being a person?” they ask in a whisper. 

“… Sometimes.” All the time. But you don’t say that. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” Siffrin mumbles, “all the time.”

“O-o-okay!” 

You and Siffrin manage to tip the tree trunk over the ravine, getting a makeshift bridge in place. It doesn’t look safe, but it’s definitely sturdier than the broken rope bridge a few meters away. 

“Anyway,” you say, pouting at Siffrin, “this is why the main roads are safer!”

“But there's less people out this way.” Siffrin climbs onto the log - AAAH!

No, nothing happened. But every second he’s on the tree makes you think something’s going to happen and it’s making you nervous and scared and EEK!! 

“Ah, Siffrin, Siffrin!” You grab the log to make sure it doesn’t move with them crawling all over it. “Be careful!”

“You’re acting like we weren’t planning on using this to climb across.”

“But it’s different now that you’re actually doing it!!” You look around. Rocks, vines - anything to secure the log!!! If Siffrin falls, you’re not sure you’d be able to fish him out of the ravine without hurting yourself. 

And with how deep it goes, you’re not sure there’d be a fully in-tact Siffrin to retrieve…

“If you don’t hurry up, you’ll have to sleep in a tree again,” they tease.

Urgh… no, that was… difficult, last time. You’re still pulling twigs and leaves out of your hair! And you woke up with your neck so tight that you couldn’t turn your head all the way to the side properly. 

Siffrin makes it to the other side of the log easily, gesturing for you to follow. “Come on.”

But… ! Ah, now you’re the one scared for yourself! It’s such a big ravine, it’s such a long fall!! What if you slip? What if the log drops?

“Mirabelle?”

“I’m!! Fine!!” Hoo, wow, you are NOT having a good day in your brain. This wouldn't normally bother you, but. You're extremely unmedicated lately.

“I’ll - " Siffrin starts to get on the log again but - 

“NO!” You grip the log tightly. “Don’t climb over it again!! It’s dangerous to climb over it once, it’s SUPER dangerous to climb over it twice! You’re already over on the safe side so just stay THERE!!!!”

Siffrin takes their leg off, surprised by your outburst. Well… you were yelling pretty loud, weren’t you? That’s really rude… you’ve been traveling with Siffrin for so long, you feel like you’re always… upsetting them. It’s hard to tell why sometimes, but right now you can’t pretend like you don’t know what’s bothering them. You’re being a huge crab, yelling like this.

“Are you…” Siffrin looks down. “Afraid of heights?”

“No, I used to hang out on the House roof all the time, it’s…” You look down into the ravine. This doesn’t bother you, sitting at the edge and looking down. “When I’m on the log, I’m just thinking about everything bad that could happen. And it’s… "

“Oh.” Siffrin nods. “I do that.”

“You do?”

“But it goes away if you just use Wish Craft,” they explain, “like if I was scared climbing the log, I’d ask not to fall.”

You watch him, blankly. Is that Wish Craft?

They stumble. “Do you know what Wish Craft is?”

“Yes? But don’t you need a sponsor for it?” You point upwards. “It’s not night, there’s no Favor Tree. What else would power the wish right now?”

“Oh, you know, just…”

They’re too nervous to finish.

“… Hey, Mirabelle, we’ve been traveling for a week now, and…” Siffrin’s desperate to change the subject. “Where’s that… medicine you used to take? The little rocks?”

“The little - you mean pills, Siffrin???” HOW DOES SIFFRIN NOT KNOW WHAT PILLS ARE??? “I left them at the House.”

“That’s what they’re called,” he says, nodding. And then they frown. “It’s bad if you don’t have them, right?”

“… I’ve been okay so far.” 

“And now you’re freaking out because you can’t climb a log.”

That’s… true. 

Okay, Mirabelle…! One way or another, you need to do this. Even if it’s scary. Even if you spend the whole time thinking about what would happen if you fell and made Siffrin go fish out your dead body at the bottom of the ravine. You steady both hands on the log and crawl forward on it.

“Please don’t fall,” you say, repeating it a few times under your breath, “please don’t fall, please don’t fall…”

It works, and you make it to Siffrin’s end of the ravine without - 

AH - Oh, Change, your foot slips, and you claw up at the log, and then you feel the log roll to the side, and the edge of the log behind you starts to fall, and, and - 

- and Siffrin grabs your hands.

You keep your balance enough to get onto the other edge of the ground safely.

There’s a big, ominous thud behind you as you hear the log hit several rocks below you and careen into the water, but that is no longer Your Problem.

“Ah, well…” You look behind you, unable to see the log from here. “I guess the wish didn’t work?”

“It did.” Siffrin lets go of your hands, as if he was burnt by them. “You didn’t fall, the log did.”

You… guess you can’t argue with that? 

“We should probably camp out for the night.” Siffrin points to the sky. “It’s getting dark.”

Oh, Change… another night in a tree. Maybe you wouldn’t be stuck with this as an option if you weren’t so… anxious about climbing the log. Your face twists up as you start to remember the last time you slept in a tree - it was just recent enough for the memory to still be sour in your mind.

“Are you thinking about the twigs in your hair again?” Siffrin asks, gesturing at your face.

“Mmruugh… yes.” You’re really not looking forward to fishing out random debris off of your skull tomorrow morning! It’s just! Dirty! Gross! Unhygienic! Just because you’re out in the woods all the time now doesn’t mean you’re suddenly fine with neglecting basic hygiene. 

“Why don’t you just wear your bonnet?”  

“Well, then the silk’s going to get torn, a-and that’s expensive to fix…” You grimace. “But I guess the alternative is tearing up my hair. Which is. Permanent on my head. And important to me.”

Siffrin nods, understanding. “Would braiding your hair be any more comfortable, sleeping out here?”

“Well, um, yes, it’s a protective style, but…” You reach up and bunch some of your curls up in your hand. You pull your hand out and find a leaf. Ugh, camping… “I can really only do it on myself if I have a mirror? If I want them to look good, at least.”

“We’re in the woods, who’s going to see you?”

“But if I’m going to spend the time putting in braids, I’d want them there for a few days, at least, and…”

Siffrin thinks again, and… nods. They might not understand you fully, but he’s at least sympathetic to you, in this moment. 

“Do you want me to do it?”

“Huh?” You balk. “Do you know how?”

Siffrin nods, a third time. That’s strange… well, it’s not actually that surprising? Siffrin knowing how to style kinky hair just makes sense to you. You wonder if you ever saw them do that in the House, if that’s a memory or just an assumption you have of them.

… You’re not going to get very far befriending Siffrin if you don’t trust him. So, even if you’re worried they’ll do a bad job on your hair, you’ll at least let them try!

The two of you set up your little temporary camp for the night before starting. You eat some very bland road rations together (you’re running out of these, and even though they’re convenient you’re not sure if you’re going to get more of them). And, though you don’t have tents to set up, you do start a little fire to keep you both warm as the sun lowers past the horizon line.

Siffrin’s always so shy to touch you, and you think they used to be shy to touch Housemaidens when you lived in Dormont, too. But when you sit behind him, he doesn’t hesitate to reach forward and position you in whatever way they need to get the right leverage to do your hair. 

And. Change. They’re good at this.

He’s just firm enough when establishing the base of a braid, to keep all your roots as close to the scalp as possible, but they’re not pulling any harder than they need to. It’s a grounding feeling more than anything else - just enough of a tug to know he’s securing everything properly. Like you’re getting a squeezing hug that cracks your back. Yes, there’s pressure, and it’s right on the edge of pain, but never going too far. 

It takes longer than you’d spend doing it yourself. You’re not sure if that’s a good sign. And you can’t check, either - there’s no convenient way for you to see the finished product. It’s too dark out to see your reflection in the water, and it’s not like you carry a mirror around. You reach up to touch your hair, and it feels neat. There’s a fun pattern laid in the braids, but you’re not sure what it is just by running your hands over it. 

“Thank you, Siffrin…!” Even if you don’t know what it looks like, you can tell a lot of care was put into it. “I’ll have to look at it closer when we get into town but it feels lovely!!”

Siffrin’s face turns a bit dark at the praise. For their privacy, you don’t tease them about it.

The two of you reach the next town at midday. Like always, Siffrin stays off in the woods to whittle or nap or pass the time in whatever Siffrin-y way he decides that day, and you’re the one tasked to explore the town. Today, you have a mission! You need to find a mirror and look at your braids.

The first house you find has someone who’s willing to let you use their bathroom. You thank them, and rush inside to look at yourself. Ideally, before you forget about Siffrin. You want to be able to remember they did your braids as you look at them!

You stand in front of the mirror, prepared for the worst, and - 

Oh.

Even after a night of sleeping on them in the woods, they’re lovely. 

Everything’s even, and symmetrical, and the rows of braids curve slightly into the crown of your head, converging at the center perfectly. It would have been easier to do straight lines, but… someone put the effort in to make it fancy.

A few years before the King came, there was this very fashionable lady that started taking a bunch of classes alongside you. You still see her in class sometimes, but a couple years ago, she was always there. She’s just so stylish! You think you remember gushing about her style a lot when you first met her, before you realized how creepy it was to do that.

Your hair is in the same braid style she had when you first met her.

It’s not overly complicated, but it would take a lot of effort to get the curves at the right angles, to make sure everything met in the center correctly. It’s a simple design, but hard to make neat and pretty. Very, very fashionable!! Your hair isn’t as long as hers was back then, so your braids don’t fall down as far as hers, but you do manage to get them to sit on top of your head nicely with your bow. It shows off all the hard work of the patterned rows nicely! 

Whoever did your braids did a great job.

And they care about you, obviously.

If you paid for this, you’d be paying a lot of money. But you know someone did it for you. So the two of you must be very, very close. 

… You need to do something else, before you lose the memory. You run to the nearest cafe. You pick up lunch. And then you run towards the forest.

Why you’re bringing two sandwiches into the middle of the woods, you’re unsure. It’s a weird thing to do, objectively… !

But the important thing is that you remembered to. 

Chapter Text

Jouvente is huge!

You never understood the difference between a “town” and a “city” until you could see the difference up close. You had to stop in a few villages on the way here, but they were all the size of Dormont. Maybe a little bigger, maybe a little smaller. Nothing that was weird!

Jouvente, though. It’s a culture shock!

Buildings other than the House have multiple floors! And with multiple Houses, too?? The inns are huge, not just a rented room out of someone's larger property. Dozens of families live in the same big building, sometimes! They have newspaper stands. Multiples of every type of business - boulangeries, salons, libraries - bookstores! There are so many books here that you can go to a store and buy them, instead of just lending them! Their farmland is in a different district than where people live! And people are on horseback on the main roads, with carts and caravans!! Someone’s entire job is to go around the town every night and light the streetlamps. That’s their whole life!!!

It’s making you dizzy. It’s making Siffrin dizzy. He couldn't stay behind in the forest, because the forest is kilometers away. It's one thing for them to let you roam around on your own in a village, it's another to do it here, in this city that's so big you could practically call it a kingdom.

And it’s a little… hostile. Most people aren’t keen on supporting you just because they think you’re a Housemaiden on a pilgrimage. Everything costs money. Money you don’t really have a lot of. And… you can’t really get a random job here. Apparently it can take weeks to apply to a job here, because they need to do something called ‘background checks’ which, what? They’re trying to figure out people’s tragic backstories??

“Any orbs here?” Siffrin asks, staying close to you.

“N-no.” You don’t feel any weird presence here other than glares from people who know you don’t belong in a city this big. “But at least we can probably… rest here, for a night? And get our bearings? Find some help?”

“Help?”

“Well, I mean - !” Your posture worsens. That’s why Euphrasie sent you here, right? You… had some fun, fantastical idea of getting some extra people to help round out your party - you and Siffrin have to run from nearly every Sadness that’s a Rock type, for example, they’re too strong for you to take down with the single Paper skill you have in your mental toolbox. But… maybe that was naive of you. Maybe there’s a different reason you should be here. “… I guess nobody would want to help.”

Siffrin frowns, but doesn’t touch on the subject any further. He starts to cross the street, and then - 

Waaaaugh! There’s an angry person pointing at you and telling you not to cross the street! He’s yelling right in your face, and you’d be mad at him, except - ! Except a giant line of horses come barreling down the street, all in a row! 

That was close! This man has been so mean to you, but… at least you weren’t trampled to death.

Satisfied that you’re not going to walk directly into oncoming traffic, the angry man storms off. Whew! That’s enough excitement for one day, isn’t it, Mirabelle? You need to - 

Um.

What were you doing?

Right, okay, you were… getting the Orbs so you can. Save the country. From being frozen, of course!! And you came to Jouvente to try and get help, because it’s obviously not something you can do on your own. But you haven’t talked to anyone yet. Yes! Yes, you know that part. Phew, that’s the basics! 

You take a step forward, and your brooches go ding-ding. 

…

You’re… forgetting something else.

Someone. 

Who are you forgetting?

It’s important, this is important, that you remember who this is. That’s why you have the brooches. If you don’t remind yourself, they’ll be very upset. You can almost remember, it’s almost there - 

They. Have lightless hair. But the dye is wearing out at the roots. And He. They… he… !

AUGH! 

Why can’t you remember? They’re important to you, you crab, you’re going to make him so sad when you see them again and have to admit you don’t even know their crabbing name!!! 

Are you trying to think about the King again? But, no, his name comes easily. It didn’t use to - but it’s hard to forget about the man you’re running all around the country trying to stop. Every time you see something frozen, or a strong sadness, all you can think about is him. This is a different person you’re trying to remember. Someone good. Right?? 

You’re finally allowed to cross the street, and you do. You look around for this - this person you’re supposed to know, an identity you’re chasing but can’t quite get a hold of. But all of the buildings in this city loom over you, imposing, watching you, as if they’re mocking you for not understanding how the streets crawl around in a labyrinthine mess. 

Unlike Dormont, when people here see someone hyperventilating in the street, they don’t do a single thing. Hordes of people walk past you, some giving sympathetic looks, most having the gall to be annoyed at your breakdown.

But you’re - 

You just - 

You’d be fine if you could know - 

But you don’t, so - 

You - 

You - - !

“M’demoiselle Housemaiden!”  

A big, booming voice cuts over the crowd and snaps you out of your own panic. A young man in the shape of a barrel moves through the crowd until he’s in sight of you - he’s wearing that uniform that you’ve seen a few people in town have. Not a Housemaiden, but… kind of close? Vaguely? They’re called, um, protectors, or something.

Standing behind him, shyly moving through the gash in the crowd that the man leaves behind, is - 

Siffrin! 

You don’t hug him, because he’d hate that, but you wave and smile. “Siffrin…!”

They relax considerably. “You remembered.”

“Well, um…” You nervously ding your brooches as a reminder. “Now I do!”

“… Close enough. Hey, Mirabelle, so these people - “ he gestures to the tall young man who yelled you over - “they’re called Defenders? They’re supposed to help people? Do you think that’s anything?”

“OH!” That’s perfect, actually! You clasp your hands and smile up at the very helpful young man. “Yes, yes, um. Monsieur Defender Sir, do you know about the King?”

“The King of what?”

“Oh, no.” This isn’t going to work.

“He was in the newspaper,” Siffrin reminds him, “guy who’s making all of Vaugarde freeze in time?”

“A guy is doing that? Just a regular guy?” The Defender frowns, and thinks, and… really considers this. Usually when you tell people about the King, they nod, and say that’s terrible, and then they let it all slip out of their brain. “H-hold on. Can we sit down for a second?”

So now you’re sitting on one of the sidewalk benches. You and Siffrin exchange a look - most people don’t give you the time of day about your quest other than a good luck or a false little platitude about how relieved they are that the Change God sent a blessing down to somebody to fix this whole frozen country business. You give this Defender enough time to collect himself. He’s really taking this seriously.

“I think I did hear about this,” he says, pointing empathetically at the ground. “I think he was here once?”

Siffrin nods. “But you’re not sure.” 

“No, I’m not.” The Defender is visibly shaken by the holes in his own memory. Seems like this is new to him. “That’s weird. Right?”

“Um, no, actually, it’s pretty normal for the King…” You didn’t remember him until you were literally on a journey to stop him. “It’s actually really impressive you know who he is, too!”

The compliment makes the Defender a little shy, weirdly. “I’m just making guesses.”

“Does that mean you can help, though??” Or, not him specifically, but the people he works for! “You know, it’s just the two of us, but - it would probably be a lot less hard if we had these Defender people help!”

“… Well.” The Defender folds his arms, humming out loud to show how hard he’s thinking. “It sounds like too big of a job for the Defenders, honestly.”

Oh.

“Buuuuuut.” He smiles brightly, all of your worries swept away on the wind. “We should talk to the Chief Defender anyway! It’s too big for one Defender, but if we all put our heads together, we should be able to think of something!”

You can’t help but match his smile… ! You leap off the bench, and jump into the air for good measure. “Thank you, Monsieur Defender Sir!!!”

He follows you, just as enthusiastic. “You’re very welcome, M’demoiselle Housemaiden Ma’am!!!”

Siffrin stays on the bench, watching you sarcastically. “Mirabelle, you should have been living in Jouvente this whole time. Your people are here.”

You puff out your cheeks. The Defender, once again, copies you to be funny. 

Great…! This isn’t so bad! The three of you walk to the Defender’s station together, joking and having fun, getting to know each other. And then the Defender leads you to his boss’ office, cheerful and optimistic, and you think this is going to go smoothly riiiiight up to the moment you step through to the actual office door.

Euphrasie’s office was always crafted to feel very inviting, even if that never worked too well. Most of that was probably your anxiety, though. You’re not imagining the imposing nature of this office, though. It’s all dark walls and floors, no decoration, with two uncomfortable-looking stools sitting in front of the desk. The Defender lets you and Siffrin sit on them, standing behind you for backup.

“… What’s going on?” The Chief Defender looks past you and Siffrin to the nice Defender that led you here. “Are we arresting Housemaidens, now?”

“What? No!” The Defender’s demeanor turns a bit shy as he explains. “I-it’s just! You know how the country’s freezing up, right? These two found out who’s doing it.”

“Did they.”

And you thought your old Head Housemaiden was cold to her subordinates…! 

“Monsieur Chief Defender Sir, it’s, um - " You’ll start with something simple. “The King, that’s his name. And he can freeze people in time with some kind of Craft.”

The Chief Defender doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even blink… !

“A-and, um, I’m immune to that type of Craft.” You point at yourself nervously.

The Defender makes a startled sound. “You are? You didn’t say that!”

“Y-yes?”

“I think I heard about this too, sir,” the Defender behind you says, “she’s blessed by the Change God, supposedly! To never be frozen in time! So she’s extra-qualified!”

Urgh…! Wait, wait, has that rumor reached all the way to Jouvente? You suppose it’s helping you now, but…

“So are you looking for the nearest House?” The Chief Defender raises a brow. “It’s a few blocks south. Have fun.”

“No, um, I mean - I was going to visit while I was here, definitely, but…” How do you appeal to someone as clean-cut as this? “My superior - Dormont’s Head Housemaiden - she sent me here to look for help, and… well, Defenders are so helpful…!” 

“We’re helpful to our own city,” he says, tense. “We’re not a Vaugardian defense force, young Housemaiden.”

“B-but - " This other Defender was ready to help you! He’s so kind, you sort of thought… everyone else would be like that, too. 

“You could ask the rest of your Defenders if they wanted to help?” Siffrin suggests. “Isn’t Jouvente in trouble if all of Vaugarde gets frozen? You’re in Vaugarde.”

“Yes, but we don’t have the same obligations to Vaugarde as a whole.”

“Um, sir, actually… don’t we?” The Defender pipes up behind you. “When I got sworn in, there was that whole creed about Protecting Jouvente is Protecting Vaugarde, wasn’t there?”

“It’s protecting our slice of Vaugarde.” The Chief Defender narrows his eyes. “It’s not about allowing yourself to be whisked away on some fantastical quest because two random people knocked into you on the street.”

“Yeah, but…” The younger Defender makes a worried sound. “What about when the curse gets to us? There’s not a lot we can do as Defenders when it reaches our borders, right? Everything I’ve read about it makes it seem like - "

“We can cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Can we?”

Oh. Oh, no. Now you’ve pitted these two men in a fight, haven’t you? You’ve gotten this man in trouble with his boss? That’s… you shouldn’t have been so greedy to ask to get all of the Defenders to help you! In hindsight, that’s… well… it’s awfully presumptuous of you.

“… Would you like to try that again,” his superior says, in that voice that makes you second guess whether you should be here.

For a moment, you think the Defender will back down. He’d be well within his rights to. You wouldn’t take any offense to it! 

But instead, he swallows and puffs out his chest and stares straight forward.

“Um. No, sir. I stand by what I said.” He’s not as confident anymore, but still forces himself to stutter through an explanation. “There isn’t any sense in defending Jouvente if all of Vaugarde is frozen in time. If it was any other situation, I’d agree with you, it’s - these are extenuating circumstances. That’s it.”

This does not solve anything.

In fact, you’re pretty sure the Chief Defender looks angry, now, instead of just indifferent! 

“Do you need me to bring out your work records?” He talks over you, to the younger Defender behind you. “When was the last time you protected anything? Being a Defender isn’t about walking old ladies across the street all day, you have to actually get your hands dirty sometimes.”

“I - I do!” The Defender behind you trills nervously, doing his best to come up with a satisfactory explanation. “It’s just that, not a lot of crime happens every day? Jouvente can get pretty quiet! Most of my job is being there when people need help.”

“I hope you are not standing here and confessing that you’re slacking on the job?”

“It’s not slacking if nobody’s - " He lets out a frustrated sigh. “We’re getting off topic. I don’t have anything to prove to you, these two need help, and - "

“And we’re not a lending library for strong fighters,” the Chief Defender grumbles, “we’re not a House.”

“But - "

“That’s a no.” The Chief Defender’s eyes rest back on you, intimidating but still calm. “Don’t make me write you up. If you could just escort these two out, I’ll forget any of this ever happened.”

“B - but - "

“I won’t be so lenient if you talk back to me again.”

Again, you wonder if the Defender is going to speak up. He doesn’t have to! Actually, with the way his boss is looking at him, he probably shouldn’t… !

He’s still conflicted, but… with the way the three of you are being stared at, he makes the correct decision and backs down. 

“… Sorry,” the Defender says, tapping you on the back. Directing you off of the stool.

You get out of your seat. No need to cause any other trouble. “I-it’s alright!” 

Siffrin doesn’t say anything, just makes a judgy little noise.

… You can’t help but think that you’re leaving this room in a bad state, though. You should do something to make sure this man doesn’t get in trouble with his boss later, shouldn’t you? Make his life easier since you inconvenienced him so harshly?

"Um, sir." You double back and walk up to the Chief Defender’s desk. "Before I leave, I would like to apologize."

"Well, I'm glad you can see sense, young Housemaiden." He cracks a smile, but there’s no warmth in it. No friendliness. "Defender Isabeau, write this down if you need to."

He doesn’t write it down.

“I… when the King came, and froze everyone I’ve ever known, it scared me. It scared me a lot…!” You clasp your hands together, your fingernails digging into the back of your hands as you explain. “But that’s not much of an excuse to come here and demand help from strangers.”

“Asking for help is typically a noble pursuit, young Housemaiden,” he says, as helpful as he can be. “I can’t be mad at you for misdirecting your cry for help to the wrong channels.”

“I - ! It’s. Just. He - " You swallow, to stop yourself from crying at the memory. “I’m the only one who can remember him, and he’s so… he’s so… "

“Well, he can’t be that - "

“In our House, his crown nearly reached the ceiling, and his voice was enough to make your ears bleed, and - oh, Change, you should have seen his big, scary armor!” You don’t normally tell people the gruesome details, but it just spills out of you!! “Oh, he almost flattened me like a pancake, and would have if my friend didn’t push me out of the way!!!”

The Chief Defender’s face goes pale.

"Yes, it does sound terrifying. I don't blame you for becoming desperate." 

 "So, wait." The Defender cuts in, offended. "You believe her?"

"Why would I not? Housemaidens rarely lie, and this one's convictions seem sound enough."

"But then why aren't we helping?"

"Are you having trouble with your ears?" The Chief Defender huffs. "It's out of our jurisdiction."

Siffrin snorts.

"What?"

"Oh, you know, just." Siffrin walks up to the desk next, too casually. "Dormont, there's like? Less than a hundred Housemaidens there. And we had an armory and traps. So like. I kind of thought a place this big would have better versions of those?"

"Excuse me - "

"I've seen notes for things we don't have in Dormont, like bombs and giant cannons and airships. And most of those books come from Jouvente. So you have them, don't you?"  They pout at the Chief Defender. "The King isn't invincible. You couldn't at least help out with weapons?"

“What are you - "

“Ah, S-Siffrin!” You shake your head at them. “Don’t… !”

“Yes, don’t.” The Chief Defender watches Siffrin, annoyed. “You don’t have to stay at the House. We have plenty of rooms here.”

He says it like it’s meant to be a threat, but you’re not sure what he’s talking about. The Defender behind you seems to put it together, though! 

"No. This is ridiculous." The Defender points to you. "She shouldn't have to apologize to you." And then he points to Siffrin. "They're bringing up valid questions."

"... I will have to write you up, now."

"For what? Having a different opinion than you?"

"You came into my office and said you were slacking during work hours, remember?"

"So let me see if I'm hearing this right." The Defender, for as friendly as he is, keeps his words tense, like he’s about to pick a fight. "I'm trying to do my job - my real job, of protecting everyone in Jouvente - and you're writing me up because of a one-off thing I said five minutes ago, that has nothing to do with this Housemaiden?"

"Um! The two of us can leave," you offer, "I don't want him to get in trouble because of us."

“No, no.” The younger Defender crosses his arms. “I want to hear his answer. I’m really curious.”

The two of them stare at each other for what feels like forever. But the hands on the clock barely click forward. Oh. Oh, no. There’s no going back from this now, is there? You shoot a panicked glance at Siffrin, who’s just watching this blankly. No guidance there.

 
You don’t know what to do…! 

"This is the last piece of leniency you'll get." The Chief Defender stands out of his seat, trying to make himself taller. "I'll be keeping an eye on you and your records after this, but if you escort the two of them out, like I said before, the offer still stands."

"..."

"I won't write you up if you've learned your lesson and let the two of them outside."

"......"

"If you want to be helpful, and nice, you can even help them find their way to the nearest House." He sits back down, taking in a breath to calm himself. "Just come back here afterwards. I have some notes I'd like to give you."

The young Defender… pauses.

 
He won! He won, didn’t he? He got to speak his mind and isn’t even getting fired for it, even though it seemed like he was in real danger of that just now. Maybe, maybe, if you let this sit overnight, if you come back, his boss will change his mind? But - you won’t cling to that hope, no matter how enticing it is.

You’re just glad that this man didn’t throw out his whole life for y -

“… I’ll go ahead and escort myself out as well.”

WHAT?

Carefully, as if he still has a begrudging respect for it, the Defender takes off the pin on his jacket and slides it onto the Chief Defender’s desk.

“Defender Isabeau - "

“Nuh - uh!” He waggles a finger, as if taking off the pin shook off any lingering instincts of formality he had. “I stick to my principals, sir.”

“… You have the rest of the day to remove your belongings from the dorms, then.” The Chief Defender looks up at the man seriously, with a couple shades of pity. “And, because I’m feeling benevolent, if you come by before the end of today and ask for your pin back, I will forget any of this happened.”

“Yeah, keep dreaming, sir.” 

The (ex?) Defender leads you out of the station and onto the street. You and Siffrin give him enough space to pace back and forth. You don’t… feel great about forcing this random man out of his livelihood. 

“Sorry.” He lets out a long breath out of the side of his mouth, like he’s a deflating balloon. “I thought that would go in a different direction.”

“I-it’s okay.” You wring your hands, unsure of how to comfort him. “You didn’t have to quit!”  

“I did.” He points back towards the building, talking loud enough that you’re sure anyone standing close enough to a window would be able to hear him. “You saw that, didn’t you? He pretended it was ‘out of our jurisdiction’ but he was just scared. I could see it on his face.”

Was he scared? Well - you might not be the best judge of character. He just seemed very, very scary to you.

“Do you think any other Defenders would want to help?” you ask.