Chapter Text
Rain pelted down on wooden shingles, a steady beating staccato filling the otherwise silent night.
Odile didn't mind the quiet. She used to prefer it and still did in many ways. There was nothing in the way between her, her meal, and the teacup sending steam wafting into the rafters. Compared to the constant travel that had filled the past decade of her life, some time alone in her childhood home wasn't the worst way to spend her time.
Still, despite the peace, a faint inkling of sorrow seeded itself in her chest.
She knew why. It was hard to ignore just how much smaller the counters were than she remembered them as a kid; difficult to enjoy her rushed rice dishes when they didn't taste quite the same as how Boniface made them, or sit through a meal without pleasant chatter around a campfire.
The rain kept its steady beat. Plip, plop, plip, plop…
Odile drummed the side of her wooden bowl, a chunk of rice hanging limp from loosely held chopsticks in her other hand. The soft pattering of her nails on soft maple was deafening in the empty home. She let out a weighted sigh. Placing the bowl down on the low table in front of her, Odile rose from where she sat to wander her home, finding her appetite now spoiled.
Soft tatami padded the floor under her feet as she moved from the open dining room and towards her own bedroom. If she couldn’t eat, at least the rain would provide some nice noise to read to. Sliding the screen doors open, she stepped inside her old bedroom.
It was smaller than she remembered. As a kid, the space had felt so wide. Like the whole world could fit snug under her covers. Now, aged two decades since she had last properly stayed in the home, the place felt near suffocating. Every step she took made her stumble over some stray memory from her childhood—faded and forgotten. A sewn doll from her grandmother, an old picture book, a photograph…
She paused.
Odile bent down, grimacing at the way her back popped. She slid her fingers underneath the small picture and lifted it up to the flickering candlelight.
Her own face smiled back at her—thirty years younger with tight pigtails and a loudly patterned kimono. Her father, much younger as well, beamed bright as the sun in the background as he wrapped his arms around her younger self. A nostalgic smile pulled at her lips. She remembered, vaguely, that her father had taken her to a festival in a much larger part of town. There had been a booth with a Crafted device that could take photos—not dissimilar to the one in Dormont’s House.
Granted, she only saw the Crafted mirror in passing as she rushed after a certain rogue—but still.
She tucked the photo into her robe’s pocket and wandered towards her bookcase. The shelves had always been well-stocked, even when she was young. Brushing a finger over the worn spines, she hummed a gentle tune to herself. Her nails caught on the edge of one novel, a favourite from her late teens, one about wizards, kings, and a lone unicorn. Deciding she was due for a bit of fantasy, she plucked the text from the shelf and tucked it under her arm.
Within her short trip to the bedroom, the rain had somehow grown into the beginnings of a storm. She could even hear the harsh clangs of the wind chimes rattling in the storm winds, the frantic melodies drowning beneath the incessant beat of the rainfall. Odile stepped towards her father’s couch and curled her legs up onto it. A ratty old blanket hung off the back, which she draped over her body. With a sigh of content, she peeled open the book’s opening chapter, the kanji dancing in the candle’s glow.
It was nice to get lost in something so familiar. The story was still the very same from her youth. She relished in the old memories of how grandiose the journey seemed as a teen, enjoying how much more she was able to appreciate the minute details now that she was older. She distantly remembered hearing that the novel was not originally written in Ka Buan, and with her new experiences across the globe, she could understand the subtleties of the foreign cultures she had missed before.
Minutes stretched into hours. The rain kept pouring through it all, never relenting in its torrent. Her rice and tea had gone cold and stale as she flipped page after page, the candle wax bubbling dangerously low in its holder.
Her focus was only pulled when she heard a sound.
It was hard to discern underneath the harsh splattering of rain and wind chimes. Odile’s head perked up as she craned her neck towards her front door. She waited a moment to see if she had perhaps just imagined it when the sound came a second time, a little louder than before.
Tok, tok, tok…
A slight difference in cadence to the rain. More solid, more deliberate.
Odile sighed. She placed her novel on the table alongside her forgotten meal and peeled the worn blanket off.
Setting a brisk pace, she marched towards her door frame. Her father’s home wasn’t rural by any means, but she certainly lived far enough in the countryside to make it an annoying trek for any passerbys— especially in such violent weather.
Gripping the handle, she slid the door open to see who on Earth would be knocking on it at 10 PM in a thunderstorm.
“Can I help you?” She asked before even looking out into her courtyard.
The person on her steps blinked rapidly, their one eye fluttering like buzzing wings. Their mouth hung open, slack-jawed. White hair was drenched nearly grey stuck to the sides of their face as they stood unmoving in front of her.
Odile stared back, blinking just as much as they were, her own mouth agape. She rubbed her eyes to confirm what she was seeing. Once she clarified to herself that, no, she hadn’t gotten her information horribly mixed up somehow, she smiled. It wasn’t like her to initiate physical contact, but she felt like a quick hug was necessary in this case.
“Siffrin? What on Earth are you doing here?” She asked with a grin, leaning down and out into the soaking rain to give a curt embrace. Siffrin said nothing. They tensed up horribly underneath her arms, and she pulled back quickly.
“My apologies, Siffrin. I should’ve warned you more before. Please, come inside before you get sick. I’ll put on some tea…” She gave one more look over at the state of them. Their cloak was weighted like a thick curtain; droplets tumbled off the wide brim of their cap, and their clothes were soaked through to their skin.
Odile frowned. “I’m sure I could find something for you to change into. I can’t imagine that’s comfortable.”
Siffrin merely shifted in place. Rain dripped down in front of his glassy eye. He almost looked shell-shocked, as if he hadn’t the slightest clue that she’d be behind the door.
Her frown deepened. Arms spread open, she ushered them inside. After a moment of deliberation, Siffrin dumbly walked forward and inside the house, soaking the tatami through with every squelching step.
She closed the door tight behind them. “Which would you rather first: the tea or a change of clothes?”
Still blinking, still distant, Siffrin eventually licked his chapped lips and spoke, “... Clothes first. I feel like a drowned rat.”
She did her best to disguise her relief. If Siffrin was well enough to joke around, then their odd behaviour may just be tiredness from braving the storm. A small smile coursed across her face, and she nodded, “Of course. Take off your boots by the door—your cloak and hat as well,” she noted, only just now realizing that they had their old hat back on their head. Isabeau must’ve made them a replacement. It looked well-made.
Siffrin nodded once more. They peeled the wet leather boots off from soaked-through socks and hung their cloak up by the door, shivering the minute the fabric left their shoulders.
Odile decided to hurry.
Back past the sliding doors towards the bedrooms beyond, she paused for a moment. Her gaze lingered on the entrance to her father’s room. His wardrobe would probably suit Siffrin’s style better.
A hard lump lodged itself in her throat, and she shook her head. She instead walked back inside her childhood room, dancing over loose toys and books she’d neglected to clean for decades. Her own closet was at least well stocked. Passing over the child-sized clothing, she pulled out some simple robes she bought recently for lounging. Siffrin would certainly be dwarfed inside the long fabric, but they seemed to enjoy baggy clothes.
Mind set, she marched back to the living room with the plain robe in hand.
In the time she’d been gone, Siffrin had stripped down to their black underlayers, still shivering. They hadn’t moved from the entrance, as if an invisible salt line kept them trapped at her doormat.
She sighed and shoved the dry clothes into his arms. “The bathroom is just past the kitchen if you’d like some privacy. I’ll start the tea.”
Siffrin merely nodded once more and padded off towards the room. Her eyes trailed him as he disappeared behind the panelled doors. Gaze lingering just a second too long, she shook her head and headed towards the kettle.
Another bout of quiet rested around her. The rain still fell in violent sheets. The wind chimes sang. The kettle whistled.
And just beyond the countertops, she heard silent footsteps frantically pacing around.
The kettle burst into a crescendo, high-pitched and whining. Lost in her own thoughts, Odile numbly poured the boiling water into two cups, then placed the tea bags inside to steep. She drummed the counter, fingernails tapping in time with the rainfall. Stuck in a moment of waiting, she allowed her mind to wander off.
Siffrin was acting strange.
That in itself was not strange. Even before the loops, he’d always been a little odd. That oddness increased tenfold after his experience through time, and the remnants of the event still clung to him years after, hanging like a limp shadow on his soul.
Even still, they’d gotten better. It had been two years since the King. Two years of travelling with her new family, two years of re-learning how to live. Siffrin had gotten better. The last time she’d seen them, they were grinning ear to ear; they were so happy and—
“Odile?”
She blinked. Whipping her head backward, Siffrin stood just behind her. His hair was still soaked flat, but he’d wiped himself off somewhat. Her clothes were indeed much too big, looking like oversized pyjamas on his tiny figure. He’d attempted to style it somewhat, cinching the waist and tucking the skirt underneath the belt, but it was still a bit lumpy.
She smiled, “Good timing, Siffrin. The tea just finished.” She picked up the tray and walked over to the couch, motioning for Siffrin to follow.
They flopped onto the cushions and leaned back into the plush comfort. They sighed in heavy contentment. Stifling a laugh, she pressed the steaming cup into their scarred hands and took her own seat among the mattress. Looking at the table, she remembered that she already had a meal and tea, still half-full resting on the surface. Oops.
Still, she took her new cup into her palms and had a small sip. The heat flowed pleasantly down her throat, and she found herself loosening muscles she hadn’t noticed were tensed.
“Now that you’re all settled, Siffrin…” She began.
Siffrin tensed up. They gave her a slight glance, a guilty look on their face. Odile noted that they weren’t wearing their eye patch.
“Mind telling me why I found you half-drowned on my doorstep?” She asked, keeping her tone light.
Siffrin chuckled and sipped from their drink. “What? You don’t take strolls in the rain? Really, it's wonderful weather out there. Doubles as a shower, even.” They laughed.
Deflection. Odile sighed. She hoped he’d be over his old habits by now.
“Siffrin.” She simply said, voice firm.
The rogue’s shoulders hiked up to their ears. The glare they levelled at her was laced with ice, a subtle ire at her refusal to let it go. They sighed.
“Fine. If you must know, I’m just as surprised to see you as you are to see me.”
She lifted a brow. “Who were you expecting to answer the door?”
He shifted in his seat. “I…” Another sigh. He looked to the floor. “My… I…” He struggled with the words, fumbling for an excuse. Then, like a switch had flicked, he straightened his back and smiled. “You know how I am, Odile.”
“I do.” She said simply, urging them to continue.
“I… maybe, possibly, perhaps… forgot. That you lived here.”
She blinked. “Ah.”
Siffrin giggled. “I guess somewhere in my head I remembered, if my body moved me here, but really, it was a shock when I saw you there! I didn’t know what to say!”
That made sense, she supposed. Their memory had improved somewhat alongside the remembrance of their old home, but it still wasn’t perfect. Though one more thing struck her as odd, “Why are you in Ka Bue? All alone, no less. I thought you and Isabeau were going to stay in Jouvente together?”
Siffrin blinked. He turned his head away. “Well… That… We still are. I just wanted to travel a bit by myself. Like I used to.”
Odile frowned.
They shot her a look. “Is that so bad?”
She shook her head. “No, no… I suppose I understand. It’s just—” It was her turn to fumble with the words, “—it’s just… I figured you’d stay longer, is all.”
Siffrin shrugged. “I have a hard time staying in one spot. It…” They trailed off, but Odile could infer the rest. It brings back bad memories.
“That’s fair.” She relented.
The conversation now ended, she went back to sipping her drink. Siffrin lounged like he owned the place, taking generous gulps from his glass. Companionable silence nestled between them, cushioned by the pittering rain outside. Her stomach rumbled. Siffrin stifled a laugh at the noise. It seems her appetite had returned after all.
Odile hummed to herself, finishing the last droplets of tea. “Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you please, Siffrin. Make yourself at home. I enjoy your company.” She said, turning to flash them a smile. They blinked owlishly at her before smiling back.
“Oh, I don’t plan on staying long—I even think the rain is letting up—”
“Siffrin.” She interrupted.
He stared at her again.
“The guest room is past the flower-patterned doors, at the very end of the hall.” She said, leaving no room for argument.
Siffrin tucked his head. He stared at his now empty cup, swirling around imaginary liquid. Eventually, he sighed.
“I’ll stay the night, madame.”