jamais vu - beaufort12 - In Stars And Time (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

ACT ??? Scene 0

[THE TRAVELER blinks awake in a field from a dream.

The sun is warm. The grass beneath is soft. It is, truly, a lovely day.

Sunlight lances across their eye, same as it always does. Same as it always does, same as it always will.

They breathe.
In.
Out.

The stench of sugar is overwhelming, choking. It smothers over the sky like a thick layer of paint. It fills every crevice, drapes itself over every blade of grass. It seeps into the weave of cloth, saturates into every grain of wood. Clouds drift across a bottomless sky. In, out. Grass bristles gently in the breeze. In, out. The wind picks at THE TRAVELER's hair.]

TRAVELER [Aside]: ...It's not so bad, is it? Being here in the loops?

[Birds sing. In the distance, the run of the river. Isn't it nice? Isn't it comforting? The familiarity, the safety. Rehearsal, without the stage fright of the real thing. Every step, known.]

HOUSEMAIDEN: Siffrin? Are you awake?

[THE TRAVELER smiles quietly, something splintered in the look of his eye.

Back to the top. Showtime.]

ACT ??? Scene 6

[The door of the House looms overhead. Is there perhaps something sepulchral about the frame? Something suggestive of tomb in its structure, something evocative of catacomb in its architecture?

No. It's just a door.]

FIGHTER: Sif? You ready?

TRAVELER [Startled out of thought]: Ah, of course!

HOUSEMAIDEN [With determination]: Right! Okay! Let's do this!!!

ACT ??? Scene 19

[THE TRAVELER nibbles idly on the edge of a malanga fritter, oil staining the tips of his gloves. It's a bad pairing with the smell of sugar. The taste—so familiar, yet utterly excised from its context. Just eating it gives them the edges of a headache.
Their stomach is hollow with hunger. This will not fill it.

THE KID watches their reaction intently.]

KID: So? How are they?

[THE TRAVELER smiles and munches down with as much enjoyment as they can muster for a snack they grew tired of several loops ago. Which is a shame, since he's always loved malanga fritters. A piece of culture that you refuse to let go of, but has long since turned rancid on your tongue—

—Culture? What culture? What culture can exist within only one person, neatly cut out of the world itself—

TRAVELER: They're great!

[They should pick a different snack, next time.
THE KID scowls at his expression, before turning away.

...Ah, well. They'll work on their performance.]

ACT ??? Scene 10

[Just another loop through the House. THE TRAVELER bustles through the halls, cracking puns and heads. Filching keys, disarming traps. They're practically an expert at this by now. The ease of long familiarity.

Defeat THE KING. Talk to the actors, say the lines. Watch THE FIGHTER hem and haw.
Talk to THE HEAD HOUSEMAIDEN. Choke on the smell of burnt caramel.

—And back to the top.]

ACT ??? Scene 17

[THE TRAVELER spends a loop and a crest digging through the observatory again, all dust-choked and filled with worn papers. They know there isn't anything to find inside, but it's nice to go somewhere—well, not new, but. Less routine. THE RESEARCHER flips half-heartedly through some of the books while THE KID and THE HOUSEMAIDEN examine the globe.

THE TRAVELER trails their fingers over the cool glass of the window. A brilliant triangle of stars burns through the dreaming dark. Their names slip through his memory like water through a sieve.]

FIGHTER: Oh! Are you looking at the stars, Sif?

TRAVELER: Yeah. They're pretty, aren't they? [So bright, like jewels set on dark fabric.]

FIGHTER [Flustered]: Yeah! [He scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck.] You're really interested in—astrology? That doesn't sound right.

TRAVELER [Quietly]: Astronomy.

FIGHTER: Astronomy, right! [Warmly] You really like your stars, Sif.

TRAVELER [Mild]: I just think they're neat.

FIGHTER: We haven't really had a chance to stargaze for a while, huh. Been staying in more towns and inns more once we got closer to the heart of Vaugarde. [Turning to face the stars] It's nice though, to have this view before we fight the King.

TRAVELER: I suppose it has been a while, hasn't it? From a certain point of view.

FIGHTER [Tilting his head quizzically]: ...?

TRAVELER: Ah, ignore me. I'm rambling.

[THE FIGHTER grins at them. THE TRAVELER smiles lightly back, stepping casually around the room.
They keep smiling, all the way up to the point where their fingers close around the tear.]

ACT ??? Scene 1

[Quiet muffles through the secret library like snow. THE TRAVELER picks a book at random and flips through it.

It's a book about the difference between mazes and labyrinths. A maze has an exit, the book posits. A labyrinth has a center.]

ACT ??? Scene 0

[THE TRAVELER wakes from a dream. The sunlight soaks through a rising column of wind. Sugar turns on the wind. The grass bristles beneath the fabric of their clothing.]

TRAVELER [Quietly, barely audible]: I think I dreamt of...

HOUSEMAIDEN: Siffrin? Are you awake?

TRAVELER: ....

HOUSEMAIDEN [To herself]: I'll leave him to it. Who knows if we'll have time to rest tomorrow. [Her dress rustles] ...Tomorrow...

[Exit HOUSEMAIDEN.]

TRAVELER: ...I think I dreamt about the end of the world...

ACT ??? Scene 21

[THE RESEARCHER leans back, settled onto the cool grass. A languid breeze curls through the air. The familytale lies between the two, untouched.]

RESEARCHER [Amused]: Still with me, Siffrin?

TRAVELER: Ah, sorry, zoned out for a moment there...

[THE RESEARCHER waves him off. She explains her motives for coming to Vaugarde, her not-quite-research, her traveling. She tells him about struggling with her heritage.

THE TRAVELER tries to listen; they really do. A do-over, now that they've seen just how badly it could go. And it's not like he doesn't care; this is important to her, and thus important to him. Trust and history and the cultures that make us. Bare your throat for a pittance of connection.

They nod through most of it, idly watching a pair of birds chase each other around the clearing.

He really is a terrible person, isn't he.]

TRAVELER: Will you go back to Ka Bue after this?

RESEARCHER [Shrugging]: Perhaps. I haven't decided yet. I expect I'll continue traveling for some time before I return. [She makes a noncommittal hand motion.] And what about you, Siffrin? I presume you'll be going home after this?

TRAVELER [Smiling]: Something like that. [Hesitating] ...Do you think you would remember me? After all of this?

RESEARCHER [With confusion]: Er. Yes? I don't see how I would forget, quite frankly.

TRAVELER: .......Of course.

ACT ??? Scene 19

[The party rests. The air is disturbed only by quiet breathing and the motion of a human throat swallowing. It's peaceful, in its own way.

THE KID watches THE TRAVELER intently as he picks at a palmier. It crumbles in their hand. They cannot distinguish the scent of the palmier beneath the malaise of burning caramel. So hungry.]

KID: So? How are they?

TRAVELER [Cheerfully]: Fantastic cooking as always~

KID [Scowling, unconvinced]: ...Okay.

[They turn away, back to their own food, hat slipping low over their eyes.

Ah, well. There's a reason this is rehearsal, after all.]

ACT ??? Scene 17

[Dust fills the observatory. It settles on onion-skin paper. It hides in the corners behind the shelves. It smothers over the globe.

THE TRAVELER gazes out the window.]

FIGHTER: Oh! Are you looking at the stars, Sif?

TRAVELER: Yes.

FIGHTER [Brightly]: You sure do like stargazing. [Turning to the window] We haven't really had a chance to do that for a while, huh. Been staying in more towns and inns more once we got closer to the heart of Vaugarde.

TRAVELER: Mhm.

[A beat of silence, broken only by THE RESEARCHER flipping through pages of books. The two of them stare out the glass.

The stars bruise the sky with light. Clusters of faint stars gather into smudges, like fingerprints on the glass. Complex arrays splay against the heavens.]

FIGHTER: ...Oh. Wow. [With quiet awe] The stars are...I think I get it. [Gently] I'm glad I got to see this. To have a memory to cherish and look back on, even in the middle of all of this.

TRAVELER [Wistfully]: Yes. A memory.

[THE FIGHTER looks at them fondly. THE TRAVELER smiles lightly back, maneuvering around the room with understated grace.
The feeling of cool nothing, almost refreshing, as their fingers close around the chill of the tear.]

ACT ??? Scene 6

[THE TRAVELER stares up at the door of the House. Is there perhaps something homely about the frame? Something suggestive of safety in its structure, something evocative of refuge in its architecture?

Yes. It's a lovely door.]

FIGHTER: Sif? You ready?

TRAVELER [Brightly]: Of course!

HOUSEMAIDEN [With determination]: Right! Okay! Let's do this!!!

ACT ??? Scene 0

[THE TRAVELER blinks awake in a field, from a dream about rain.

The sunlight flares, lovely. Sweetness fills the air. They breathe.
In.
Out.

Back to the top. Showtime.]

ACT ??? Scene 21

[THE RESEARCHER leans back, settled onto the cool grass. A languid breeze curls through the air. The familytale lies between the two of them, untouched.]

RESEARCHER [Amused]: Still with me, Siffrin?

TRAVELER [Abashed]: Ah, sorry, zoned out for a moment there...

[THE RESEARCHER waves them off. She explains her motives for coming to Vaugarde, her not-quite-research, her traveling. She tells them about struggling with her heritage—

TRAVELER [Sudden, almost interrupting, and with an unexpected intensity]: Are you happy?

RESEARCHER [Thrown off]: —Er. What?

TRAVELER: Are you happy here? With us, in Vaugarde? Having found a familytale?

RESEARCHER [Blinking]: Ah—well. [She pauses for a moment, turning over the question in her mind] I—yes. Yes, I suppose I am.

TRAVELER: ...Good. That's good.

RESEARCHER: ...And what about you? Are you happy?

TRAVELER [Something misaligned, almost unnerving in the air around them. The smell of rotting sugar fills the stage.]: ...Yes. I think I am, actually. Will you go back to Ka Bue after this?

RESEARCHER [Leaning back, slightly off-put]: ...Perhaps. I haven't decided yet. I expect I'll continue traveling for some time before I return. [She makes a noncommittal hand motion] And what about you, Siffrin? I presume you'll be going home after this?

TRAVELER [Smiling]: No need. I'm already home.

RESEARCHER [With confusion and slight trepidation]: ...You plan to stay in Dormont?

TRAVELER [Smiling]: Yes.

ACT ??? Scene 1

[The faint scratching of a pen bristles through Dormont's library. THE TRAVELER plucks a book at random off the shelf and flips through it.

It's a book about sailing. A neat diagram of a wind circle is etched lovingly in a two-page spread.

There's something reassuring about a book, isn't there? The promise of preservation, of records kept. Of knowledge that outlives.]

ACT ??? Scene 4

[THE KING's hair tangles through the room, weaving between the brick and mortar. THE HOUSEMAIDEN deals the final blow, right on cue. It's easy now, defeating THE KING.

THE KING's form shrinks back down, a monster returned to a man. The mad monarch, defeated by the power of friendship and good old-fashioned grit. A fairy tale ending. Happily ever after.

You would rewatch that kind of play, wouldn't you?]

ACT ??? Scene 13

[THE UNDERSTUDY stares at THE TRAVELER, from beneath the Favor Tree. The air is heavy with blistering sweetness.]

UNDERSTUDY: What did you do.

TRAVELER [Shrugging]: I made a wish.

UNDERSTUDY [With barely leashed fury]: You—!

[THE TRAVELER shrugs noncommittally. THE UNDERSTUDY narrows our eyes. We shift, agitated, bark biting into our palms. We are wary of THE TRAVELER.]

TRAVELER [Distantly]: Happily ever after. Isn't this what I wanted?

UNDERSTUDY: No! Not like this. Not like this at all.

TRAVELER [Mild, almost apathetic, almost amused.]: Are you going to stop me?

[THE UNDERSTUDY considers THE TRAVELER. We think about it, really think about it. A long heartbeat of silence passes.]

UNDERSTUDY [Bitterly]: ......No. [Our voice is flat.] Understudy, huh. Not even going to give me a leading role, stardust?

TRAVELER [With false mischief]: You could always audition.

UNDERSTUDY: ...

[We are gripping the tree branch so tightly that it is splintering beneath our palms.]

UNDERSTUDY: ...You're really committing to this, huh. You're really giving up.

TRAVELER [Placidly]: I like it here. Don't you?

UNDERSTUDY [With deep disdain]: .......Sure. Suit yourself, stardust.

ACT ??? Scene 19

[THE KID watches intently as THE TRAVELER picks one of the burnt samosas.

He bites down on a corner, stomach lean with hunger. The edges are a little acrid, but the rest of it is alright for a potato samosa. It might be better with cheese in it. Sugar burns against their nose.]

KID: So? How are they?

TRAVELER: They're really good! Thanks for holding onto the snacks for us!

KID: ...Right.

[THE KID turns back to their own food; frowning, but not as deeply as usual.

Getting better.]

ACT ??? Scene 10

[Another loop through the House. THE TRAVELER dances through the halls on whisper-light feet, tearing through Sadnesses; a bravura performance for no one's eyes but the Universe'. The cold metal of crests and keys tumble through his hands. They nod through the final scene. Say the lines, follow the cues.

—And back to the top.]

ACT ??? Scene 17

[THE TRAVELER spends a crest for a trip to the observatory. Like dropping a coin into a fountain for a wish. Payment please, the Universe whispers. Give me something in exchange. I'll lead you, for a price.

They press their fingers against the window, smudging the cool glass. The stars glitter, three pinpricks poking through the endless fabric of the sky. The summer triangle, some distant echo of your mind whispers, before slipping away like dust.

You think about entire realms of knowledge destroyed. Could we have once reached the stars?]

FIGHTER: Sif? Whatcha thinking about there?

TRAVELER [Smiling blithely]: Oh, nothing important.

[You look at the fraying paper of the star charts. Knowledge directly in front of you, yet utterly inaccessible. THE FIGHTER watches you with concern.

He looks so frightened, when you grab the tear.]

ACT ??? Scene 21

[THE RESEARCHER leans back, settled onto the cool grass. THE TRAVELER sits across from her. The familytale lies between the two of them, untouched. A languid breeze carries the smell of sugar through the air, as though a bakery had gone to rot somewhere nearby.]

THE RESEARCHER explains her motives for coming to Vaugarde, her not-quite-research, her traveling. She talks about struggling with her heritage.

THE TRAVELER nods peaceably through most of it, watching the fractal patterns formed in the shadows of the grass.]

TRAVELER: Will you go back to Ka Bue after this?

RESEARCHER [Shrugging]: Perhaps. I haven't decided yet. I expect I'll continue traveling for some time before I return. [She makes a noncommittal hand motion] And what about you, Siffrin? I presume you'll be going home after this?

TRAVELER [Smiling]: Yes.

ACT ??? Scene 4

[THE KING'S hair tangles through the room, weaving between the brick and mortar. THE TRAVELER watches as THE HOUSEMAIDEN deals the final blow, right on cue.

The actors pantomime celebration. THE TRAVELER joins them. Closing scenes, final lines. The curtains fall.]

ACT ??? Scene 0

[THE TRAVELER blinks awake in a field, from a dream about static.

The sunlight illuminates a gently cascading trail of motes of light. The smell of sugar drifts through the air. They breathe.
In.
Out.

Back to the top. Showtime.]

ACT ??? Scene 1

[THE HOUSEMAIDEN reads a diary aloud in the library. THE TRAVELER idly flips through a book at random while the group is distracted.

It's a book about eclipses, written in a language that refuses to be held in the mind.

You think about it, sometimes. How many books were never translated? Artworks, lost? Surely you had whole movements of aesthetics, styles of literature not seen anywhere else. Instruments unique to your culture. A mother tongue turned to nothing but music and headache.

What political arguments did people get into, tipsy after dinner, crowding deep into the night? What did you forget? Where are you from?

HOUSEMAIDEN: Siffrin? Ready to go?

TRAVELER: Ready~

ACT ??? Scene 19

[THE TRAVELER nibbles idly on the edge of a palmier. It crumbles quietly into their lap. Unappetizing; the near-ubiquitous stink of caramel has rendered it unbearably sweet.]

ACT ??? Scene 10

[Another loop through the House. THE TRAVELER bustles through the halls, cracking puns and heads. Filching keys, disarming—

—A step too fast, too far forward, and a boulder comes down on your head.

It's only a split second of bones snapping and skin rapidly discovering the limits of its elasticity before the endless black wells up around you, but it feels like a small eternity. A horrible crunching in your ears, and then an even worse silence.

You find yourself intimately acquainted with the definition of the word crush.

—And you find yourself yanked back to the field. Birds sing. Grass rustles. Sunlight lances directly into your eye.

Breathe. In, out.

f*ck. That was—that was sloppy. You should be better than this by now.

In, out.

You can still feel the echo of stone in your bones.

In. Out.

It's okay. It didn't happen.
It's just rehearsal.

Breathe.

You're on...you're on Scene 0. Which means...which means. Cue the—

HOUSEMAIDEN: "Siffrin? Are you—oh." [Concerned] "Are you alright?"

TRAVELER: Yeah. I'm fine, just. Had a nightmare, is all.

HOUSEMAIDEN: I...see. Do you—

TRAVELER: —Sorry. I'm fine now. It's alright.

HOUSEMAIDEN: ...You're shaking.

TRAVELER: .....So I am.

HOUSEMAIDEN [Hesitant]: Do you...need a minute? Or if you want to talk, I'm here too?

TRAVELER: It's fine.

HOUSEMAIDEN: But—

TRAVELER: I'm. Fine.

[You're off script.]

TRAVELER: Here—I was thinking that we should all have a sleepover tonight. Before we fight the King, you know?

HOUSEMAIDEN [Bewildered]: ...Um. Yeah. I was—I was thinking something similar. I can—

TRAVELER: I'll tell everyone.

[THE TRAVELER exits.

f*ck, that was atrocious. Idiot, still missing your cues...]

ACT ??? Scene 4

[THE HOUSEMAIDEN delivers her lines and the finishing blow with admirable aplomb. THE KING crumbles like a palmier in the palm of a hand.

THE TRAVELER watches placidly. THE KING had the right idea, really. How wonderful, THE TRAVELER thinks. For the stars to have given them such a blessing. To be able to turn back the pages of the play. Re-read all the good parts. Memorize every soliloquy. Truly appreciate the story.]

ACT ??? Scene 21

[THE RESEARCHER watches you, settled onto the cool grass. Her eyes are cutting. The familytale lies between the two of you, untouched.

...You missed another cue, didn't you?]

RESEARCHER [Suspicious, concerned]: ...Are you alright?

TRAVELER [Smiling]: Just fine~

[THE RESEARCHER does not look particularly convinced.
You wish you could take another look at the script. You've forgotten your lines.]

RESEARCHER: You know that you can talk to me if you ever need to, right? To any of us.

TRAVELER [Smiling]: Of course!

[THE RESEARCHER inhales, as though to speak—but she does not push you further.]

RESEARCHER: ...Right.

[Hm. You're not getting that memory this loop, are you?
Well, not like it really matters, does it? You slip your smile back on. Lines, lines...]

TRAVELER: Will you go back to Ka Bue after this?

RESEARCHER [Wary, hesitant]: ...Perhaps. I haven't decided yet. And you?

TRAVELER [Smiling]: I'll be staying here. Remember me in Ka Bue, won't you?

RESEARCHER [Halting]: .....I will.

ACT ??? Scene 13

[THE UNDERSTUDY kicks our legs, from where we're perched beneath the Favor Tree.]

UNDERSTUDY: Really? Still? [Disapproving, taunting] Haven't you had your fill of this story yet?

TRAVELER [Placidly]: Isn't this better?

UNDERSTUDY [Incredulous]: Being trapped in an eternal time loop? No, stardust, I do not in fact think that this is better.

TRAVELER: It's safe—

UNDERSTUDY [Interrupting]: —You got crushed by a boulder trap—

TRAVELER: —And I'm not even dead. It's safe here. No more uncertainties. No mistakes that I can't undo. No one will forget me. All I have to do is act out the play. That's a fair price, isn't it?

UNDERSTUDY: ...Stardust. This isn't...you can't stay here forever.

TRAVELER: Why not?

UNDERSTUDY: This isn't living. You can't—life isn't supposed to be perfectly rigid and safe. Within perfect safety there can be no freedom.

TRAVELER: So?

UNDERSTUDY [With an edge of desperation]: ...Look. I know it's scary. And it seems impossible. But you can't give up and hide from the world forever. You can't just trap everyone here. They have lives to return to. Friends who miss them. Family waiting for them. [Quieter] Don't just give up. Don't—don't give up like I did.

TRAVELER: ...I'll see you next rehearsal.

ACT ??? Scene 19

[THE TRAVELER bites into a malanga fritter. THE KID watches their reaction intently.

Malanga and giraumon. It feels like the fritters are missing something. Pepper flakes, a different oil, maybe?

You stare at a fritter, grease seeping into the tips of your gloves. It doesn't—it doesn't taste right. It's good, but. Shouldn't it be—

(You can't keep over-salting the fritters! Too much sodium is bad for you!!!)

The taste of giraumon is suddenly cloying in your throat. You only really eat giraumon stew during the spring holidays, when everyone's supposed to come home and share a dinner on the first day of the lunar—Of the—

...Of what.

(Everyone's supposed to come home. It was such a big deal when Uncle— ...When one of your uncles missed it. Almost started a huge row with— With? With who—?

KID: So? How are they?

TRAVELER [Shaken, still grasping]: ...It's...really good.

KID: .......Frin?

TRAVELER: Sorry, I just...it's fine. I think I have a headache. It'll pass.

RESEARCHER [Glancing over]: Do you need water? We can take a longer break if you—

TRAVELER: I'm fine. Next scene, please.

ACT ??? Scene 17

[You gaze past the clear glass of the observatory, into the endless ever-night beyond. Something tugs at the fraying edges of your mind. A faint memory of lightless sand, sifting between your hands. Quiet waves seeping down the tideline; the glimmer of moonlight over the water.

You stare at the stars until your eye hurts. Vega, you think suddenly, Deneb, Altair—before a ringing pain bites through your temples, thoughts slipping like sand through an hourglass, and the sky becomes nameless once more.

Time passes. You linger longer than you would, staring into the dark beyond the glass.]

RESEARCHER [Quietly, emphatically]: sh*t.

[THE FIGHTER exchanges a heavy look with her, an understanding passing between them. THE HOUSEMAIDEN and THE KID are still preoccupied, examining a drawer full of star charts.]

RESEARCHER [Quietly]: There aren't any more crests or keys in this room, are there. We're stuck.

FIGHTER [In low tones, trying not to be overheard]: Do you think there's a way we can get through the wall of tears without the crest? By Craft or force?

RESEARCHER: ...It's unlikely. [She grips her book, knuckles pale; this is hopeless, and she knows it.] But we don't have any other choice, do we. [Whispered] Gems preserve us.

[They look so worried. Don't they know? It's just rehearsal. It's okay if someone misplaces a prop.

Speaking of. You step toward the tears, and off the stage.]

ACT ??? Scene 21

[THE RESEARCHER leans back, settled onto the cool grass. A languid breeze curls through the air. The familytale lies between the two of them, untouched.]

RESEARCHER [Amused]: Still with me, Siffrin?

TRAVELER [Abashed]: Sorry, zoned out for a moment there...

[THE RESEARCHER waves them off. She explains her motives for coming to Vaugarde, her not-quite-research, her traveling. She tells them about struggling with her heritage.]

TRAVELER [Pensively]: Do you ever miss Ka Bue?

[THE RESEARCHER takes a moment to mull over the question.]

RESEARCHER: ...I suppose I do. I didn't think I would, but...there's something to be said for sheer familiarity, isn't there? The ease of already knowing the customs of a place, without any second-guessing or accidental rudenesses. Even when I felt like I never fully belonged, I was still of Ka Bue, in a way that I didn't realize until I'd left. [Shaking herself from her contemplation] What about you, Siffrin? What was the place you're from like?

[Blinding sunlight flares over the stage.] | [The ocean was beautiful. Thin translucent waves lining beaches of lightless sand. Fine as silt, fine as silk. The water was so cold, even in the height of summer. In spring, the harbour filled with sailboats like pale birds coming out of their roosts.

TRAVELER: I'm afraid I don't really remember anymore.

[A breeze wanders onto the scene, as if lost.] | When you stood on top of the cliffs you could see them crossing over the horizon line, and the wind in your ears would be so loud you couldn't hear yourself speak. On quiet days the ocean would chop up the reflection of the sky into a hundred thousand mirror pieces.

RESEARCHER: Oh. Did you leave when you were very young?

[The scent of burnt caramel is overpowering.] | I ate fish heads for lunch and on festival days the streets were saturated with music. The cobbles would thrum, cool stone brought to life by a hundred trampling feet and draped with warm cloth.

TRAVELER: Something like that. Will you go back to Ka Bue after this?

[The clouds drift above, barely more than wisps of smoke. Ribbons in water.] | On clear days we would watch the stars, and I would know all of their names. On stormy days the clouds would buffet, grand fortresses of water vapour pushing across the sky.

RESEARCHER: ...You know, I think I will. But not for a little while yet. —Um. Are you alright there, Siffrin?

[The sun ducks away behind a cloud, embarrassed.] | Every day filled with little rituals and superstitions in the land of wishes. I wish I could go back. I wish so badly that I could go back. Even the parts I hated—sand in my sheets, splinters from the docks, the way the laundry took forever to dry—I wish I could hate them all again, one more time.]

TRAVELER [Wincing]: Yes, just a bit of a headache.

RESEARCHER [Sympathetically]: Maybe some time in the shade would do you good.

TRAVELER [Affable, anodyne]: Maybe. [They adjust the hem of their hat.] ...Do you think you'll remember me, in Ka Bue? After you go home?

RESEARCHER [With confusion]: Yes? I don't see how I would forget, quite frankly.

TRAVELER: It would be ridiculous to forget, wouldn't it? Something so impactful, so encompassing.

RESEARCHER: ...?

TRAVELER: Ah, don't mind me. Just thinking.

ACT ??? Scene 0

[THE TRAVELER blinks awake in a field, from a dream about the crashing of waves.

The sunlight illuminates a gently cascading trail of motes of light. The smell of sugar fills the air. They breathe.
In.
Out.

Back to the top. Showtime.]

ACT ??? Scene 13

[THE UNDERSTUDY leans back against the trunk of the tree. We look pensive today.]

UNDERSTUDY [Aside, under our breath]: Couldn't have at least made me the stage director? I'd take lighting technician too, at this rate...

TRAVELER: ...Do you remember? The country?

UNDERSTUDY [Not without sadness]: I remember no more than you do, stardust. [We frown slightly.] What is this, an audition for the King's role? Gonna start calling me 'Bright One'?

TRAVELER: Hah. Maybe it is.

UNDERSTUDY: ...

[THE UNDERSTUDY shifts, uncomfortable. What a mess, we think. What a blinding mess.]

ACT ??? Scene 10

[Another run of the play, another run through the House. THE TRAVELER stalks through the halls, a perfect storm of jokes and keys and violence. Not a single step out of place.]

ACT ??? Scene 17

[The observatory is filled with a quiet hush. Outside the window, the stars glitter like sugar on velvet fabric. Sweet as crushed flowers; sweet as incense.

FIGHTER: Oh! Are you looking at the stars, Sif?

TRAVELER [Quietly]: Yes.

[The firmament spins on, incandescent, apathetic.]

TRAVELER [With an edge of ardent despair]: Isn't this lovely? Isn't this nice? To see the stars, to have charts and names written down for when you don't remember?

FIGHTER [Increasingly concerned at THE TRAVELER's speech]: Uh, it sure is?

TRAVELER: Aren't you happy here? Where it's safe, and we're together?

FIGHTER [Alarmed]: Sif, are you—are you okay?

TRAVELER: I don't want to go.

[The tear splashes over you.]

ACT ??? Scene 19

KID: —Frin? FRIN. ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING.

TRAVELER [Genuinely startled]: —Huh?

KID [Face thunderous]: Nevermind my favorite food; you don't even listen to me at all, do you! Crab, you're the worst!

[sh*t, did you miss your cue that badly??]

TRAVELER [Flustered]: Er—Sorry, I—I must have spaced out.

KID [On the verge of tears]: I just— [Scrubbing furiously at their face] Crab, you're impossible. At this rate you'll forget my name too.

TRAVELER: ...

[The silence is stark with tension.]

KID: ....Frin. Siffrin. You... [They stare in disbelief.]

TRAVELER: I—

[THE KID exits stage left.]

TRAVELER: ........The Kid. The Researcher. The Housemaiden. The Fighter. They must. I must have... [Tugging painfully at their hair] What were their...? I can't have...I can't have...

[No one answers. The stage is empty.]

TRAVELER [Frantic]: Something that started with B? Beryl? Bennet? No, that's...

[The script references only titles and roles. It does not list the names of the actors. Why would it?

Sunlight saturates the fields. Birds flutter through the fences; wind flutters through the trees.]

TRAVELER [Lowering his hands, slowly]: .........I don't know why I'm surprised. An entire country, and entire childhood. It'd be more surprising if I remembered, really. Forget, and be forgotten. [With quiet, wavering horror] Serves me right.

[THE TRAVELER exits stage right.

His hands are still shaking.]

ACT ??? Scene 16

[THE RESEARCHER leans back, settled onto the cool grass. A languid breeze curls through the air. The familytale lies between the two, untouched.]

RESEARCHER: ...Still with me, Siffrin?

TRAVELER: Yeah. Sorry, just...thinking.

RESEARCHER: Quite alright.

[THE RESEARCHER explains her motives for coming to Vaugarde, her not-quite-research, her traveling. She tells him about struggling with her heritage.

How wonderful it would be, to come to a place willingly, seeking. Not simply because you had no place to return to. Spat from the mouth of home like fishbones from between teeth.]

TRAVELER: Will you go back to Ka Bue after this?

RESEARCHER [Shrugging]: Perhaps. I haven't decided yet. I expect I'll continue traveling for some time before I return. [She makes a noncommital hand motion] And what about you, Siffrin? I presume you'll be going home after this?

TRAVELER: No.

RESEARCHER [Taken aback]: Oh. Do you...not wish to return home?

TRAVELER: You don't—no. No. You don't understand. I don't get to go home again. That's not something that I can do anymore.

RESEARCHER: Siffrin?

TRAVELER: I can't go home anymore. You're all going to go home. You're all going to forget me.

RESEARCHER, [bewildered], "What? We're not going to forget you, that's—" The Researcher stares at you, really stares. "We're going to fight the damn King and save Vaugarde together.You made a huge impact on our lives; all of us care about you. We're not going to just forget you after all of that."

TRAVELER: "That's not—you can't promise that. You can't."

RESEARCHER, [placating, visibly uncomfortable at the unexpected display of emotion, "Siffrin? You need to breathe—"

"No. No." You—something breaks inside of you. "You don't understand. My entire country got metaphysically erased and no one even knows why! It doesn't—it doesn't matter if you love me! It doesn't matter if it was important! I loved my home! I loved my f*cking parents! I can't remember it anyway! I love you and I don't even remember your name. I love you and it's not enough."

Your hands are shaking. "...I love you, and it's not enough."

The Researcher stares at you, blatant shock written over her features. "...Siffrin?"

You stare back. This isn't—no. You're off script. You're off script.

You pull out your dagger. The Researcher's eyes widen. She lunges.

"Siffrin—"

You always were the fastest.

You blink awake to the field. Breathe, breathe, breathe, f*cking breathe.

Air stings in your lungs like thistle leaves. You clutch at the grass beneath you. Your mind is spinning off its axis. The world feels like sandpaper pressed against your skin. You want to rip your f*cking skin off.

"—Siffrin? Siffrin?! Are you okay?" M—Mirana? Maria? —The Housemaiden's panicked face appears in your vision. Her hands flutter frantically just over your shoulder, but not quite daring to touch. You wheeze back something that sounds more like choking than words.

"Oh, Change." She hesitates, before taking your hand and pressing it to her chest. "Okay, breathe with me, alright? In, out." She takes exaggerated breaths, pantomiming exhalation. You follow along as best as you can. "Inhale, two, three, four. Exhale, two, three, four."

Her hands are so warm around yours. Calloused, fencer's hands. Grounding.

You breathe. In, out. Your mouth tastes like it's filled with sugar.

"Back with me?" The Housemaiden smiles shakily at you. You smile shakily back, and nod tightly. "Here, let's—let's get you to the clocktower."

The inside of the tower is cool and quiet. The party's gear is disassembled over various surfaces: bedrolls haphazardly folded, the Kid's cooking utensils neatly tucked on the table. The picnic blanket that's been serving as dining table to the five of you for weeks is draped lovingly over a chair.

The Housemaiden pulls up a chair for you and bustles around, whisking a glass of water into your hands and pressing food towards you.
You pick at a plate of cold potato hash; breakfast, you remember dimly, and then later added to the samosas. The novelty of eating something almost-new is so strange that you almost don't know what to do with it.

The Housemaiden watches you with thinly-veiled concern, hands cupped around her own glass of water. You think back to the script.

"Do you—" Your voice comes out thin and scraped. You sip at your water and try again. "Could you remind me where everyone else is?"

"Um, sure? I mean...Isabeau's at the Favor Tree. Bonnie's in the fields, and I think Madame Odile is in one of the shops picking up extra supplies..."

Bonnie. Isabeau. Odile. You cling to the names like lifelines. Hopefully someone will drop the Housemaiden's name in conversation soon.

(...It's been a very long time since you've actually listened to what anyone was saying.)

"Why do you ask?"

"...I felt like hanging out with everyone, before the King," you answer quietly. Close enough to truth, right?

"That does sound nice," the Housemaiden agrees. She worries at the fabric of her dress.

"...Don't you have better things to do?"

"Nothing more important than making sure you're alright."

Touching. Waste of her time. "I'm fine."

The Housemaiden looks down at her glass. Her voice is hushed. "...I don't think that's true, Siffrin."

You tip your head forward, letting the brim of your hat slide forward until it hides your face. "You shouldn't waste time on me."

"I don't consider this a waste."

Condensation buds on the side of your glass. You drag a finger through it, marveling at the sensation. Something new. "Surely the Savior of Vaugarde has more important—"

"—Siffrin." The Housemaiden's tone shifts, like someone finding proper footing at long last. She meets your eyes head-on. "I care about you. A lot! So, just. Just let me help you, please."

"Why?"

"What—Because you're my friend!" She sounds almost affronted.

"I don't even remember your name."

"I—What? What???" The Housemaiden stares at you, face somersaulting through several different flavors of confusion. "You knew my name yesterday??? In fact, scratch that—you knew my name this morning?????"

You claw your fingers into your arms. You want to zone out of this conversation. You want to nod off. But you've never seen this script before, you don't know what your lines are—

The Housemaiden watches your face. Her expression wavers. "...You're serious."

You want out of this conversation.

"......My name is Mirabelle."

Mirabelle. You'd etch it into your mind, but. Not like that would do much when your mind leaks information like water through a sieve.

"Siffrin," and here it is, now she can see how horrible of a person you are— "Are you okay?"

You look up. Instead of disgust, or contempt, or reproach, there's just concern on Mirabelle's face, and the edges of real fear.

"Aren't—aren't you angry at me?"

Mirabelle makes a noise like a mouse being strangled. "Siffrin, if you've forgotten my name since this morning then the issue has catapulted straight out of the territory of 'personal offense' to 'extreme concern about head trauma.'

"I don't...I'm not injured."

"That honestly might be more worrying." Mirabelle sighs, and suddenly you can see all of Vaugarde's hopes resting on her shoulders. Her voice comes out almost plaintive, for a moment. "Just...I just want to make sure you're alright."

"...But I've done horrible things. I've said horrible things. I've said them to you ." You fiddle with the hem of your cloak. "You might not remember, but that doesn't mean it doesn't matter."

(It can't mean nothing. If something being forgotten means that it doesn't matter, then—)

"I'm not a good person, Mirabelle."

She watches you from across the little wood table, sunlight catching in her hair from where it streams in through the window. Her bow almost seems to droop in the wake of your declaration as she considers her words.

"I...really, really have no idea what you're talking about," Mirabelle begins, "and I'm honestly still kinda worried about head trauma. But!" She flutters her hands, "I don't think that people can really be good or bad. Being good is something you do actively, not something you are. And if you hurt me...well, then we should just talk it through! Part of being close to other people is hurting them, and being friends is accepting that closeness anyway. I don't need us to perfectly navigate each other; I just need us to talk to each other and improve." She huffs. "Friendship, and trust, you know?"

Your voice dies in your throat under the weight of sugar.

(It's a bit embarrassing to admit, but you'd forgotten there was anything outside of your lines. That your actors could say anything but their script. That these were your friends. Living, breathing people with opinions and inner lives you didn't know about.)

"...Thanks, Mirabelle. And sorry. I made you worried." Your tongue feels clumsy in your mouth. Improv was never your strong suit.

Mirabelle grimaces fondly at you, nose all scrunched up. It's a surprisingly cute expression. "You don't have to talk to me about stuff if you're not comfortable with it! But please know that I'm here for you if you need it."

"...You too, Mira." You feel almost unsteady. "Thanks, really. I think...I think I want to go talk to everyone else. See you back here tonight?"

"Of course!" She shoots you a tentative thumbs up. You give her a shaky smile back.

You find Bonnie at the edge of the fields, leaning over a fencepost. The tilled earth reminds you a bit of the place the party picked them up in, all rolling farmlands and wide open range.

They send you a side-eye from beneath their hat. "Hey, Frin."

"...Hey, Bonnie." You try for a smile.

They frown at you. This is one of their 'I'm kinda worried about you' frowns, which is different from their 'I'm mad at you' frowns and their 'I'm kind of hungry' frowns. "What do you want?"

What do you want? "I guess it's just been a while since we really talked."

They give you a weird look. "We talked this morning, dummy."

Morning might as well be a hundred thousand years ago to you. "It felt like a long time, I suppose."

"...Okay." They look away again.

You cast about for something to say. Muscle memory pulls the script into your mouth again. "Where will you go, after this?"

"Well, I'll go back to Bambouche to see 'Nille. 'Cus she won't be frozen anymore."

You nod. Guilt gnaws on your heart. "I'm glad you have someone who loves you, waiting for you at home."

Bonnie shoots you a weird look. "Uh huh." They lean more of their weight against the fence post, chin resting on their arms. "You do too, Frin."

You grit your teeth behind your smile. "Ah, not really, actually. I can't go home."

Bonnie rolls their eyes, the picture of preteen exasperation. The eyeroll manages to perfectly convey the phrase Grown ups are so stupid, I can't believe I have to be the adult here. "I mean you have someone who loves you because we love you, Frin."

"...Oh. I love you all too."

Bonnie makes a face like they just put an entire lemon in their mouth. "You don't have to sound so sad about it."

You duck your head, hiding beneath the brim of your hat. "That's not—I just... I really love all of you. But I...I don't think it's enough," you say. Confess.

"Well, of course not." Bonnie says matter-of-factly.

You blink at them, a bit taken aback by such strong cynicism from such a small child.

They scowl at you petulantly. "Stupid Frin. If loving someone was enough to protect them, or to stop you from hurting them, or stop them from hurting you, then no one would ever get hurt and everyone would already be safe all the time!" They cross their arms and sneak a glance at your eye. "That's not what love does. That's not what it's for."

"What is it for then?" You ask, intrigued despite yourself.

They make an exasperated noise and throw their hands up. "It's for letting you know what's important to you, and what makes you happy! It makes your emotions about those things bigger because they're the things that matter. Crab, Frin, how do you not know this? It's obvious. Emotions 101."

"I guess so." You have no idea if you're an idiot or if Bonnie is the wisest child you've ever met.

Bonnie nods, self-satisfied. "It's how Nille explained it to me. And Nille knows everything, so it must be true."

You nod, daunted by the strength of their conviction. Guess it must be true.

Bonnie rubs at their nose contemplatively. A butterfly flickers its way in front of the two of you. "Anything else?"

"...No. Just meeting up at the clocktower in the evening."

They shrug, and turn back to the butterfly.

(They'll grow up one day, you think to yourself suddenly. They'll grow up one day, and they could become anyone. Don't you want to see that?)

Odile wanders the shops of Dormont with you, the two of you on a hunt for the elusive familytale. For the first time in a long time, you take your time. Check all the merchants, chat with the townsfolk, just to do it.

"Tell me a story about yourself that I don't know," you request impulsively as the two of you step out of the florist's. "Please?"

"A story you don't know...? Well, let me think..." Odile muses, humoring you. Her gaze turns distant as she thinks, little diamond bangles clinking as they sway beneath her glasses. "Did I ever tell you about the time I was chased out of a library? Someone threw a hardcover at my head, even."

"What?"

She laughs at your gobsmacked expression. "This was in Solla, before all of this King nonsense. Apparently the literati there have a taboo against ichthyology, which I didn't know about before I asked after their section on oceanography."

"Ichthyology? What did the fish do to them??"

"You know, that's exactly what I said as I ran out of that library." Odile snickers as you sneak a surreptitious glance towards the direction of the fisherman.

You pause as you watch the children climb over rocks next to the broken bridge. "I don't think I've ever been to Solla," you mutter distantly, consulting your mental map. "That's...next to Ballagàrraidh and Ozurie, right? Too far away." A whole continent away.

"It's a lovely place, inscrutable academic taboos aside," Odile says, shaking her head and smiling. "They had these bell-shaped flowers everywhere—I think it must have been a national flower or something. The streets were—well, honestly they were filled with quite a bit of trash. Real littering problem there. But there were the most beautiful mosaics laid into the walkways along the marketplace. Gleaming, in the sun, like flat-cut gems." There's a hushed warmth in her voice as she remembers.

"I've been told it has a thriving dance scene as well, though I didn't see much of it." She flips briefly through her book, to an earlier section than you've seen her reference before. "Ah, yes. According to their history, it was a dancer who saved the May Bell rebels from the Suzerain's purge with a cleverly hidden message in her choreography, so the art is quite venerated there."

You nod back, a bit awed. Perhaps Odile should've been the one with the Traveler epithet this whole time. Ka Bue is on the other side of the world, after all. So many places to traverse, so much to see.

(...You're only the Traveler because you were forced to be the—)

"I'll probably pass through it again on my way back to Ka Bue. You could...tag along if you'd like?" Odile coughs, suddenly uncomfortable. "That is—ah, forgive me for being presumptuous. You must have other places—"

"—I'd like that." The sky suddenly seems open again, over your head. Your feet no longer so tethered to this patch of ground. "I'd like that a lot."

"Oh. Well then. That's settled." Odile smiles at you, exactly like a crotchety-fond grandmother. "Now to track down this gem-breaking familytale..."

You lie back, staring up at the stars. A thousand glassy eyes, blinking, staring back from the heavens above.

The night air is balmy, but a cool breeze brushes away the smell of sugar for just a moment. You breathe in deep. Fresh air is something to be savored, after all the time you've spent in the House.

"This is nice," you say quietly. Isabeau hums beside you.

"I thought it'd be nice to do something like this before tomorrow," he agrees, a bit bashfully. Cute. He really is very thoughtful.

You watch as the stars in some unknown constellation glitter, peering at a great cross in the corner of a right triangle | Cygnus, the swan, Deneb at its tail. You crane your head back at a long curl of seven bright stars, bunching up at the end. Some instinct tugs at you to follow the two pinpricks on the edge, up to a lone-burning gem. | Polaris. Draw a line straight down, and that's north.

"...And if we forget this moment?"

"Hmm?" His voice is quizzical in the dark.

"If we forget this moment ever happened. What then? Does it matter?"

"If a tree falls in a forest..." he mutters wryly. "Hmmm..." You hear the quiet ding-ding of his earrings as he shifts.

"I think it does," he decides. "It matters to me right now, right? And it still happened, even if it falls outside of perception."

You mull over that thought. "And if you forgot me?" You ask, trying to keep your voice light.

He laughs, broad and warm. "I really don't think I could ever forget you, Sif."

"But if something made you? If something erased me?"

"Well...I guess in that case I can't promise I'd never forget. But right here, right now, even if we don't remember it at all—isn't this something?" Ding-ding. "I guess there's probably a lot of history that's been lost to time, hasn't there? Moments that will never survive the fog of ages. But it's still beautiful that those moments happened anyway, isn't it?"

He shakes his head, earrings glinting as they fly wildly in the dim light. "Ah, you've got me all philosophical now. I guess what I'm saying is: it's nice right now, here with you."

The stars blur around the edges in your vision, like dabs of paint being dipped into water. "...Thanks, Isa. I think I forgot that, for a while."

"Mhm!" He agrees, cheerily oblivious.

The two of you lie in silence for a few heartbeats, before the distant din of trampling feet and precariously balanced plates brings the rest of the party to you.

For a few seconds everything is loud and rearranging and the smell of samosas, before everyone settles down to stars and dinner in the grass. The faded picnic blanket is warm beneath you.

Mirabelle's still shooting you worried looks over a plate of cookies as she assembles a napkin full of food. Odile flips through her book with one hand, the other juggling a cup and a samosa at the same time. Isabeau and Bonnie are getting into a raucous debate on the merits of...pancake batter?

You stare in the direction of the clocktower. Towards north, though you're not sure how you know that.

(I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night)

"Do you think..." You interrupt Bonnie's spirited defense of banana-egg pancakes, and the attention of the group shifts to you. "Do you think we could stay together? After this?"

"After we defeat the King?" Mirabelle questions.

"Yeah. Keep traveling, together, if only for a little while," Odile adds, to your relief. "Siffrin and I were planning to stick together a bit longer."

"Oh." The rest of the party considers your words for a second.

"I'm down," Isabeau volunteers, breaking the silence. "I like traveling with you all, and I'd like to see more of the world beyond Jouvente."

Mirabelle nods in thoughtful agreement. "Yeah, count me in as well!"

Bonnie munches on a samosa. "I'd need to go find Nille first, for sure," they state. "But! After that!" Everyone makes noises of agreement. "I'm sure this would be more interesting than school anyway." Everyone makes noises of education-based concern.

"Well, as long as we're planning and stuff..." Mirabelle draws herself up, coming to some internal decision, and takes a deep breath. Ah, time for her speech, you think. But instead—

"I've been meaning to ask. Are you alright, Siffrin? You've been acting really weird today, and the memory problems..." She wrings her hands. "I don't want to drag you into fighting if you're not doing okay..."

"I'm fine," you reply automatically. Four different flavours of no you aren't immediately reflect across four different faces. "Mostly fine," you amend. Four expressions of doubt stare back at you. "...You wouldn't believe me anyway."

"Eh, give us a chance, Sif," Isabeau disagrees, expression crinkling into worry around the corners. "If this is serious—actually, really serious, and you can promise it's not a joke. We're here to listen."

Bonnie nods. "No jokes zone. For realsies. What's happening?"

"For realsies!" Mira echoes enthusiastically.

"For...'realsies.'" Odile echoes, less enthusiastically.

The faces of your friends, your family, watch you from the dark; limned in pale starlight.

"...Okay," you say, twisting the fabric of your cloak between your hands.

For the first time in a long time, the air clears of sugar.

"I have something to tell all of you..."