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[It's all over. And yet not, because they're going to continue traveling together. One thing ends and another begins and the world hasn't ended.

But however final that conversation with the Head Housemaiden had felt, it turns out that beginning and end are a lot less distinct than anticipated. It's not like they were gonna immediately take off on a new journey, after all. Especially not when the whole of Dormont is eager to celebrate with their heroes.

The End Of The World party has become a The World Didn't End party, as promised, and the shift in theme only seems to have amped up the energy of the festivities. Which is fair enough. Mirabelle, the Chosen One, has been mobbed nonstop by both grateful townsfolk and friends from the House, and she looks happy enough to see everyone safe and movie that a rescue isn't even warranted. Odile looks genuinely happy, deep in conversation with the librarian from the House. And it looks like Bonnie is making friends with some of the local kids, or at least enjoying the awe as they regale them with stories of their adventure.

It's good. Everyone is happy and full of life. It's just kind of...overwhelming? Siffrin wasn't exactly big on crowds even before the timelooping business, and it's been so long with just the same few faces repeating the same lines that this is all A Lot. Their general air of quiet mystery and exhaustion has kept most people from doing more than offering their thanks in passing, but Siffrin still feels drained regardless. It's so loud.

But he couldn't spoil the fun for everyone else. They deserve it after saving the whole country, and especially after dealing with all his nonsense. So he quietly slips away while they're all otherwise occupied. He doesn't intend to go far – the idea of not having his family nearby spikes anxious tightness in his chest, and he doubts that's gonna go away anytime soon – but just...around back of one of the buildings should be fine, right? He can peek around the side periodically to reassure himself with a glimpse of everyone. He just needs a wall to muffle the festivities somewhat.]

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[He snorts, with apologies to the hair he just buried his nose in. Sif is right. There isn't any fun in warning a guy first, and yet! Please, o' magnanimous rogue. A dollop of empathy for his poor, tired companions? Before they're forced to endure any number of (possibly spicy) pranks in retaliation? Then again. After a day like today, maybe a good prank is something they all could use. Isabeau certainly feels like he might be getting pranked when Siffrin follows up with a request that offers to fulfill one of his deepest, darkest desires.

...Okay that's putting it a little dramatically, but. Isabeau still gasps real loud, immediately tenses up from how loud that was, and waits an excruciating ten seconds in silence to make sure his big mouth didn't commit any cardinal sins. Mutual destruction seemingly averted, he lets out a very slow, very silent whoosh of breath.]

I would love that.

[He could wax poetic about how much he'd love that, but he's honestly not much of a poet. What he is, is one half of the party's resident skin and hair care duo, so Siffrin has absolutely come to the right place in their search to "tress for success." Now with a mission in mind, the way Isabeau trails his fingers through their hair is much more purposeful this time, nails tracing across their scalp and fingers dancing out of the way of formed knots as he feels and observes.]

Mhm, I think I know exactly what your hair needs. A little TLC and we could really get your hair to glow.

[Even thinking it'd probably go over well, the sheer enthusiasm of Isabeau's response is still surprising. Siffrin is the one that has to bite back a laugh this time, turning his face into the pillow to smother the choked off sound of it.

Well. Hypothesis confirmed?

Something about the attention is a little embarrassing, even with no one else awake to witness it. Siffrin's cheeks warm with it. But the nails gently scraping his scalp feel nice, so it's fine.]

You don't have to go crazy or anything.

[Isabeau sounds happy to do it, sure, but it feels like an imposition either way.

And it still feels sorta...manipulative. He wouldn't have asked if not for that knowledge picked up in the loops suggesting it'd be received well. Maybe it's that guilt that prompts him to continue, whispering against Isabeau's shirt.]

There was just...this one time, in the loops, Mira asked to comb it. And you seemed, uh...jealous?

[It sounds a little ridiculous now that he says it. Like, obviously. It's still hard for him to wrap his head around Isabeau's feelings for him, let alone the sheer depth of them, but he at least believes it now. And if he's accepting that as a fact, then it sounds less like he's grappling with an uncertainty and more like he's just calling Isabeau out. Whoops.]

[Siffrin tries to assure him that they aren't expecting a full hair care routine, but the idea is frankly appalling to Isabeau. No, no, he won't be giving him anything less than his absolute best. This is about his pride in his work just as much as it is his love for them.]

What? Of course I have to go crazy. I've been wanting to go crazy on your hair for months. But saying so would have been really crabbing rude of me, so I've been waiting. For either an opportunity, or an invitation.

[It has all the right characteristics to be sooooo fluffy and soooooooooooooo luxurious. Like there aren't enough vowels in the alphabet to properly convey just how so those things it could be. But Sif is the roll out of bed type! Give it a quick few swipes of a brush and they're good to go! It has been equal parts adorable and infuriating to watch during their journey. He and Mira might have privately commiserated over it once. Which... makes Siffrin's followup both perfectly understandable, and also incredibly embarrassing.]

I... I did?

[He seemed jealous? That's so pathetic yet so instantly believable, that he can't do much more other than flush bright and curl in on himself, burying fresh embarrassment into the darkless hair his hands just abandoned. Mira beat him to the punch of asking Sif about combing their hair? Got to straighten out all those knots and errant flyaways, in a way that was probably very relaxing and comforting and pleasant? Change. Of course he got jealous. Of course it was so obvious that even Siffrin noticed. He's not exactly a subtle guy! Never has been! He muffles a quiet groan into his hair and braces himself.]

Give it to me straight, Sif. How bad was it?

[The jealousy, not the hair combing. That was probably super nice and he almost doesn't want to know, because he. He... is just maybe a little bit of the jealous type. Even though he really tries his best not to be.]

[Frankly, "a few swipes of a brush" is probably giving them too much credit". His hair is usually as much of a mess as the rest of his life, and it'll be harder to hide it now that the hat is stars know where.

Isabeau's obvious embarrassment does make Siffrin feel a bit bad, but...at the same time, it's endearing. And a little funny. They huff a breath of soft laughter into the pillow.]

If it makes you feel any better, I didn't realize at the time.

[Does that make it better? That Siffrin was that oblivious to his feelings? They wince a little considering it.]

[He lets out a little sigh, something between further embarrassed whining and acceptance of his defeat.]

A little. [He would certainly have been spared the worst in the moment, if Sif didn't realize it. But... most likely, he was very obvious to the rest of their friends. A shame his past-timeloop-self will never live down.] And, I guess, if you're laughing about it now, then it couldn't have been too bad for you at the time.

[Or so he hopes. He gives himself more than half a second to ruminate on that one.]

...It wasn't, right? I'm sorry if it actually was super awkward and awful for you once you realized.

I honestly only just put that one together like...right now.

[Doubtlessly there will be many similar revelations in the coming days, past interactions that they revisit in a new light and realize just how incredibly dense they've been.

Part of them wants to apologize in return. Sorry for not realizing sooner or something like that. But that's almost like calling Isabeau extremely obvious about it all right to his face, so Siffrin swallows the impulse down.

They're quiet for a moment, fingers absently toying with the fabric of Isabeau's sleep shirt.]

...You don't mind me talking about it? The loops? Mira didn't wanna hear it. "Spoilers" and all that.

[He's torn, honestly. He doesn't want to burden them all with this shit – the stuff he went through, details about themselves they haven't shared or didn't even realize yet, the discomfort of someone knowing more about them than they should. They're not stupid, obviously they know that's all a thing. It's just probably easier for them to not dwell on it if he just keeps his mouth shut.

But at the same time, they have a right to know what he knows, don't they? And more than anything, Siffrin just...wants to share these memories with someone. It's lonely, having shared all these moments with all of them and being the only one to remember any of them. It's just his luck that the experiences they actually had in the end were the worst possible ones. And there's no way to make any of it "real" anymore. All he can do is deal with it on his own, or share in the more traditional sense.

But only if they're okay with it.]

As long as you're sure...

[The conversation lapses and Isabeau is content to let it. Is about to suggest that, perhaps, if Sif likes what he does with their hair tomorrow, maybe he could do that for them more than once? But he feels a tug on his stomach, gaze drifting to find fingers fidgeting with his night shirt, and the sight gives him pause. Out of fondness mostly, but consideration, too. He's noticed that Sif does this when they're thinking, or overthinking. Fussing with their gloves, their cloak, pinching and rubbing fabric between fingers. It's kinda nice that he can add his shirt to that list. Like they're a little bit more comfortable with him.]

Spoilers? I guess I can see what she means, but...

[Nah. Couldn't be him. Not only is the curiosity eating him alive, he couldn't stand to leave Siffrin alone with what they went through. He doesn't just want to empathize with what being trapped in time was like; he wants to understand it.]

I want you to tell me everything.

[Every detail that Siffrin can remember, and even the details he only half remembers. Isabeau couldn't be there to walk that journey with Sif hand in hand, so he'll be their confidant in the aftermath, however messy that ends up being. He doesn't want anything less.]

[There's a surge of relief, and Siffrin pulls back just enough to be able to look at Isabeau. There's no hint of uncertainty or hesitation in that face, and they feel a swell of fondness in that space right behind their sternum, so potent it leaves their chest aching.

They really, really love him. Whatever other doubts there may be, at least that much is true.

A soft smile spreading across their face, they duck their head back down to return to that favorite little nook against Isabeau's shoulder, exhaling a contented breath.]

You told me a lot of things. About your Change, and what you used to be like, and what you want to do from here on out...

[Aww, there's that sweet little smile of theirs! His heart feels all the lighter for having seen it, like it's truly been ages since such an expression last graced Siffrin's features. He sweeps them back in as they duck down, fingers idly fanning out against their back as he listens.]

There was time for all that?

[He doesn't ask like he doubts it. It's more the surprise that's hitting him, slowly realizing that those conversations must have spanned loops, because the space between two of the exact same days isn't enough time to say all that. Not when there's a House to climb and a King to fight. The mystery deepens... he nudges his face back into their hair, resting his cheek atop their head.]

How much did I tell you? I've been trying to find a way to talk to you about Changing for ages, but the timing was never...

[It was never perfect. He's always been waiting for perfect, content to let "good enough" slip by so many times. But Siffrin knows that much, doesn't he?]

[Siffrin's smile takes on a bitter edge briefly. Time was something he'd had plenty of. More than he could even keep track of – more than he wanted to keep track of. Knowing the exact length of time seemed like the sort of thing that could drive him mad, and staying sane was a losing battle as it was.

It's a good thing their face is already hidden, tucked away against Isabeau again. It'd only worry him. ]

I mean, I don't know how much you didn't tell me. But I know you're a huge nerd.

[Isabeau knows they know this much, at least. Siffrin had basically thrown it in his face while on their bridge-burning spree. They can't really overwrite that moment, but saying it again like this almost makes it feel that way.

Feeling brave, they poke a finger into Isabeau's side with the hand draped over his waist.]

And you used to have braids. And...trouble making friends.

[Hearing Siffrin call him a huge nerd so casually rips all the seriousness out of the conversation- and frankly? Isabeau kind of needed that. Was starting to get wrapped up in his own head about things. He huffs a breath, the loudest his laughter will get while they're wrapped up in a shared darkness like this, grinning at them with an eyebrow raised.]

Bet I called you scrawny, too. That was part of the speech I'd been preparing.

[...It's weird. He told Siffrin all those important things about himself, and now he'll never get to experience what it was like to say them "himself." Siffrin's reaction in the moment is gone, too. They can tell him about how they felt, sure, but he'll never have his own image of what the look on their face might have been like, or what they'd said before they... had a chance to "prepare" an answer. That moment is gone for him, and all he has right now is the assurance Siffrin gave him after he'd confessed, about how the others surely wouldn't judge him if he'd started acting a more like the person he really is. It still "sounds fake" to him, even now.

He nods along as Sif gives him more details.] Sounds like I managed to tell you every-HHhhh-!

[He tenses up immediately at that poke, and the way his body jolts shifts the whole mattress beneath them. It takes every ounce of wherewithal he has left to suffocate the yelp that wanted to escape, strangling it in the back of his throat and stuffing its corpse under some strained gurgling. His free hand snaps to Siffrin's wrist, holding it tight.]

Careful... [He pulls in a wheeze, and slowly lets it back out. Okay. Voice controlled. It is just a very mildly harried whisper.] Careful where you poke, Sif! I'm ticklish...

[Oh, that's even funnier when Isabeau is trying to keep quiet. It's distracting enough that they don't even flinch at the sudden grabbing. Siffrin peeks up at him, looking innocent as can be.]

I knew that, too.

[He'd forgotten it until this moment, honestly. He's probably forgotten more than he remembers at this point. But Isabeau's response brings to mind his experiments in the gardening room, and being told that delightful fact once before.

Siffrin maintains the straight face even as the wrist in Isabeau's grip flexes, its hand stretching down and wiggling fingers just above his side threateningly.]

[Gasp! They already knew that, too?? Woe! What secrets does his delicate maiden heart even have left? He sticks his tongue out at them as they bat their innocent eyelashes his way, smitten as usual but otherwise unphased.]

Sneaky... How did you manage to figure this one out?

[Those fingers wriggle in his grasp and he redoubles his grip, squeezing their wrist like he means business.]

You do that again and I will kick you out of the bed.

[If they're not going to show him any mercy, then he will be forced to act in kind.]

[Still perfectly innocent:]

You told me.

[Y'know. After a similar poke attack.

Siffrin is admittedly tempted to test it. Would Isabeau really kick him out? Really? Does he love them enough to wimp out on that promise, or would he manage to follow through for once?

They quickly duck their head back down to hide a wince in Isabeau's shirt. It's a mean thought, for multiple reasons. The repeated false-start confessions weren't really Isa's fault, and he doesn't deserve those kind of tests and mind games.

Besides, they're too tired to risk ending up on the floor.]

Fine, you win. Your sides are safe. For now.

[That cannot be the full context. There's no way he'd just offer up his weaknesses so freely! What were they doing to prompt that kind of prodding, back in the loops? Give him the detaaaaiiils!]

Is that how it is?

[He lets out a slight "oof" as Siffrin quickly ducks down to hide in his shirt again and, feeling the "danger" of the moment ebb, he very generously releases their wrist. Reaches up to pat their back in a "there, there" motion. He must really not want to get kicked out of bed if he's giving up this fast. Isabeau is relieved, but that doesn't mean he can't comfort them. Poor Sif. No fun allowed.]

Sure, sure. Pencil in a tickle fight for another day. I'm happy to accept the challenge. [And the back patting stills.] Gives me a chance to find your weaknesses, too.

[Amazing. He's the one getting comforted after being the aggressor of the tickle attack? ~~Isabeau you goddamn simp–~~

Siffrin hums softly, unintimidated, and ventures a prod of Isabeau's shin with their toe.]

Unfortunately for you, I have no weaknesses.

[Definitely not true, but they're hardly gonna make Isabeau's life easier in this regard.]

And you'll only be at a greater disadvantage later. Being in bed only handicaps me. Do you really think you can win out-fast me?

[~~Isabeau is not beating the Siffrin simp allegations and he's even kind of proud of it.~~

And in response to that toe, he'll gently bump them with his knee. Wow, breaking down the touch barrier really took no time at all, didn't it? He'd marvel on it more if he wasn't too busy having fun.]

That all sounds very much like something a weakness-hider would say.

[He is onto Siffrin's tricks, they are they easiest tricks to be onto.]

Besides. I don't need to out-fast you. I only need to outwit you.

[If only Isabeau knew just how desperate Siffrin had been for human contact in the loops. How sad and pathetic he'd been about it, stealing tiny little instances of incidental touch from his friends rather than just ask for a goddamn hug or something. They'd probably have been happy to accommodate the request, and maybe he wouldn't have gone quite as far off the deep end. But even now, giving voice to that desire feels terrifying. He trusts them with his whole heart, and yet it's somehow hard to have faith that they'd still love him if they knew just how desperate and needy he could be.

Isabeau's eagerness and enthusiasm is a blessing, honestly. As long as he eats these bits of touch up and doesn't press further, Siffrin can pretend to be a normal, functional human.]

Oh?? How do you plan to do that?

[They sound amused, lighthearted even in a whisper. Siffrin is doing such a good job of being normal right now. It helps to have the a limited audience, the cover of darkness, and some very broad shoulders to hide their face in when needed.]

[He has some ideas. The gears in his mind are turning, happy for something pointless and funny to focus on after the emotional disaster the last forty-eight hours were. Isabeau commits to them, offering Siffrin his very best imitation of their innocent smile.]

...Guess you'll find out.

[Come on! Siffrin already has several advantages; he's not gonna give them even more!]

Boooo.

[They don't actually sound all that upset. It wouldn't be fun if it was too easy, after all.

But with that settled, and the threat of getting kicked out of bed staving off the urge to sneak in an extra surprise poke, Siffrin exhales, relaxing into the embrace of Isabeau's arms and some moderately decent pillows. The former is probably the only thing preventing anxiety right now. Without it, this scene might feel a bit too much like one he'd played out again and again and again. He can lean into the warmth of another person and think See? It's different. It's a new night.

Half to reassure Isabeau that this night's battle is done for now, and half for their own clinginess, Siffrin's hand tentatively slides from Isa's side around to his back. It's a position that forces them closer, but they don't imagine Isa will mind.]

[He lets out a louder sigh of relief than he would have liked when Siffrin wraps an arm further around him, the situation seemingly settled. Whew! No more secret pokes for the night. He was really worried they'd be too much of a gremlin to heed his warnings. Further gremlin-ing can happen tomorrow, after they've all had a good ten to twelve hours of dead sleep. If not for their current conversation he imagines he'd already be there, snoring away like usual, and as anticipation simmers he can feel the return of that exhaustion. It tugs at the corners of his eyelids. Blurs his vision. He relents, letting that fatigue pull them shut.]

Sif...

[His words are already somewhat sluggish, and the space he leaves between for an answer drags on a hair too long. But it's important. Something he feels he didn't say at the start of this particular tangent.]

Tell me more about the loops, sometime.

[It's unfair, phrasing it in a way that implies refusal isn't part of the equation. But they should talk about everything they went through. And if Siffrin doesn't have the strength to tell the whole party right away, then Isabeau selfishly hopes it'll be him they come to about it first. He'd love to be that for them, in a way that really matters for once.]

[It's been a rough day and everyone deserves a reprieve from gremlin-ing. Gremlin mode can resume at full power in the morning. Y'know, if Siffrin is in the mood for it. He's felt all over the place today, even only counting the time since officially escaping the loops. One moment he couldn't be happier, secure in the knowledge that he is loved, and the next he's anxious and tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop, certain that he'll manage to fuck it all up again.

But none of that right now. He's too tired to dwell and spiral. The request is oddly comforting, a balm on the raw open wound that is his heart. Sleepily, Siffrin just nods against Isabeau's chest, making a soft sound of agreement as he begins to drift off.]

[That gentle nod was all he needed. Appreciation for their willingness to try wraps itself around the last of his will to stay awake, a ribbon that ties itself into a cute little bow and drags his waning energy into a comforting abyss. It is going to be sooooo nice to not think about anything for the next several hours.]

...G'night, Sif.

[His grip loosens, his arm becoming less of a hold and more of a weight against their body. Soft snoring follows, a sign that he is well and truly out.

(...)

For Isabeau, time passes without further recognition. His brain is too tired to dream, too knocked out to be roused, even by the usual suspects- friends shifting out of their beds, birdsong, sunlight. It’s a good thing that the clock tower didn’t actually collapse overnight or anything. Such a disaster likely would have claimed all four of them.

Fortunately, the night’s only disaster seems to be that he slept way past mid-morning. Siffrin is still conked out, practically right where he left them last night. And a quick peek around the room tells him that… Bonnie is still asleep, too. Odile appears to have risen at some point, because her bed is empty and the room lacks her presence entirely. She must have stepped out. Isabeau lets his head drop back down on the pillow with a quiet huff of leftover fatigue, immediately wincing at how stiff his neck feels. Been awhile since he’s slept this hard. It’s gonna take ages to stretch all that back out...

A problem for future-Isabeau to contend with. Present-Isabeau still has a bundle of warmth wrapped up in his arms, and that bright form would likely be content to lay there through the afternoon, if Siffrin’s previous sleeping habits are anything to go by. Isabeau seriously debates letting him. Their group is due to get back on the road today, sure, but he bets Mirabelle isn’t all that eager to rush out of Dormont. And if they’re not going to leave until this afternoon anyway, why not let their resident time traveler get a little more R n’ R? After a truly ridiculous amount of Craft overuse, they probably need all the rest they can get.

Content with that line of thought, Isabeau nestles back down, realizing just a moment later that if he wants to let them sleep a little longer... he might have to resign himself to not moving either. Because. Siffrin is still laying on his arm, and moving them so he can reclaim it might wake them up? That would be terrible... They probably need this extra sleep so badly... Woe...

His smile is entirely too fond as he resettles his arm around their back, absentmindedly toying with the lightless ends of their hair as he watches them sleep.]

Edited (fastforward! vroom!) 2024-07-22 04:18 (UTC)

[It's true that Siffrin needed the sleep. Not physically – though that's certainly a part of it, after their Craft overuse and dynamaxing and all that – but mentally, they'd been sleep-deprived for the equivalent of months. Nights at the clocktowers had ceased to be restful long ago, and oftentimes Siffrin had more waited than actually slept. The best rest he got was between loops, but that was always so short-lived.

He's not sure what time it is when he finally comes to consciousness. He doesn't open his eyes right away, but it's obvious when he wakes up from the way he stiffens in realization of his current position and then slowly relaxes again. Right, it's all over, this is a new day for the first time in far too long, and Isabeau is holding them because he loves them.

Selfishly, he feigns sleep a little longer. It's the most comfortable position he's ever woken up in, and the temptation to just revel in it and lay here quietly for hours longer nearly overpowers the fear that Isabeau would get sick of them laying on him eventually. What finally shakes them from their cozy reverie is remembering that they weren't alone in this room.

They lift their head a little, twisting to look behind them at the other beds, vainly hoping the others would still be asleep. Bonnie doesn't disappoint, but of course Odile's bed is empty. He'd hope maybe their friends just didn't notice the canoodling in their early morning grogginess, but he knows that's a pointless wish. Odile notices everything.

Doubtlessly, she'll poke fun later. Lovingly, of course, but that doesn't make it less embarrassing. Maybe he should play up his emotional fragility to stave off the teasing for a while.

Biting back a sigh, lest he worry Isabeau, he turns around to flop back down into the pillow.]

Where's Odile?

[Alas! Sweet moments like these are so short-lived. He barely had a few minutes to himself before Siffrin was rolling around, scooting about, lifting and checking and flopping back down. He arcs an eyebrow at that question, amused at the way they blow right past saying "good morning" (not uncommon), and he remembers. Right, Siffrin dawdled before going to bed last night, didn't he? In an attempt to stave off the others seeing them displaying affection. Cute, but it's only delaying the inevitable.]

No point worrying about her, y'know. She already caught us "canoodling" yesterday. The teasing would have commenced whether she saw us this morning or not.

[That's just how it's going to be! But, maybe he's being a bit unfair. Odile has already relentlessly teased him for all his hangups over his growing feelings and inability to confess. He's used to it. This will be new for poor Sif.]

Knowing her, she's probably already shopping for the next round of supplies and planning our route to Bambouche.

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THEIR DYNAMAXING,