Chapter Text
Hungry. You're so, so very hungry.
It eats you from the inside, crawling from your aching stomach up to your burning throat, threatening to take hold of your brain if you refuse to feed for any longer- but you must not feed. No matter how many loops you go on for, you must not feed. All it will do is mess up the current loop and you'll have to reset your hunger again anyways, and for what? Momentary relief? You don't deserve such a blessing.
Even as you tread the house corridors for the fiftieth or so time, your family friends chattering idly around you, engrossed in whatever meaningless conversation they hold this time, you struggle to listen in. Books. You have to focus on finding those blinding books. If you don’t, your body might just consume itself from the inside out.
The library door is just ahead in this hallway. Your hand grips tightly onto a key, mimicking its own engraved hand shape. Books, books, books, you repeat like a mantra to yourself. It should be easy enough, right? Anything pertaining to Wish Craft. Anything that causes your head to throb.
Soon enough, you're right in front of the locked door that only exists to block your path.
“Oh! The door is locked!” Mirabelle chimes in. It’s useless information to you.
“Yes, hm. Maybe we should look around a bit more for the key,” Odile's calm, calculated voice responds. A blinding obvious suggestion, did she even take note of you grabbing something from underneath the Head Housemaiden’s drawer? Of course not, you grimace, this quest isn't all about you, stop making it out to be.
You're Siffrin, The Wanderer, your role is to aid your party in their quest to defeat the king. That is it, that is all.
Your lips are pursed from your thoughts, yet you say nothing. Instead, you keep your tight grasp onto the rock key and slide it into the door’s keyhole. A perfect fit. The door echoes a soft click when you turn the key. For a brief moment, you are not focusing on the books anymore. Everyone's voices fade out to nothingness. Your teeth are latched onto something.
…your own cloak?
Stars, you’ve been salivating on it. You push open the door and hide your embarrassment underneath your hat. Your cloak remains bunched up in your mouth, sharp fangs poking large holes through the crafted fabric. It's not the first pair of holes lining the collar… have you really been hungry enough that eating your own blinding cloak was an option you unconsciously considered?
“Sif?”
There's a hand on your shoulder.
“Sif, hey buddy, are you there…?”
You think you jump so high that you're worried about hitting the ceiling, but the hand remaining on your shoulder tells you that there is no way you performed such a feat. Instead, you flinch, and you're left with Isabeau gazing at you concerningly. A tender stare that meets your vacant one.
It's your cue to speak. “Oh, yeah I’m fine Isa!”
Your family friends are all looking at you now. They're worried. Oh no, they're worried!
Quick! Uhhhh, get back in character! Somewhere in the deep reaches of your brain, a lightbulb gains power. “You could say I’m handle-ing everything alright!” Don't forget to smile don’t forget to smile-
A faint snort of laughter sounds from Mirabelle, and Bonnie gives you a small huff and puffs their cheeks. “That was dumb Frin! No more dumb jokes!”
Isabeau removes his hand from your shoulder as soon as he realises he put it there in the first place, releasing a faint chuckle. That anxious glint has not left his eyes, but his face tells you he’s at least a little bit more relaxed. You don’t want to look at Odile right now- her gaze often cuts through you as if she was wielding your own dagger, perhaps even more proficiently than you could.
Curiously, you eye her from under your hat. Yep. She’s staring right at you, giving you the ‘we are going to talk about this later’ look. You quickly avert your gaze back to the floor and carry on, not waiting on Isabeau’s response.
The closer you get to the Library, the heavier the hallway’s atmosphere becomes. They’re chattering behind you, chattering about you, but you must return your mantra. Books. You need to find those books. Nothing else matters, why would it matter? As long as you act normal enough to pass by, as long as they can’t see the drool lining your fangs, as long as you don’t show them what kind of monster is hiding amongst them, everything should go to script! You beat the King, you talk to the housemaiden, and… and then…
…Find the books, Siffrin. Books books books.
You don’t have the time to spiral. As soon as you enter the library, you stroll over to the switch that would open the door to the secret library, trying your blinding hardest to ignore the librarian on the ground on their knees, reaching out to nothing. It’s impossible to get any blood from a frozen person, you’ve learned through one of your more desperate loops, but that doesn’t stop you from lingering on the thought of trying again. A quick flick of a switch performed by your muscle memory brings you back to your senses. The passage opens.
“WHAT!?!”
“What the gems-?!”
“SECRET PASSAGE!!!”
Mirabelle rips her gaze from the newly found passageway and back onto you. “But how- how did you-”
“Woah, a secret passage~!” Hopefully that response is enough to stop your party from asking questions later. Putting on this fake smile still feels disgusting.
You step into the passage just a moment later, not wanting to linger with the awkward silences and saddened demeanor that you have brought along during this loop. Staying in that suffocating atmosphere any longer threatens to reach into your throat and claw the guilt out of you, just to spill the putrid words on the ground for everyone to see. Not that it would matter- it's too late for apologies. You can apologise in another loop.
The secret library is rather small, forcing everyone into a one-by-one formation with you in the lead. There's a table with a list of some checked out books that you’d rather not bring attention to, so you move past that. Other than the table, the walls to your left are lined with imposing bookshelves, each book residing here dusty and forgotten. You already know what you're looking for.
You take a large book and hold it firm in your hands. It has a big, sparkly tree on the cover of the book, catching your party member's eye immediately.
Odile narrowed her eyes. “Oh gems, do we really have the time to stop and read books here?” You can tell when she catches a glimpse at the title- when she starts rubbing her temples, looking away and giving a light groan that nobody else seems to notice. Nobody except Isabeau, he's much more perceptive than he lets on.
“Oh, another wiggly headachy book,” he notes.
Mirabelle turns away from the book you're holding. Probably for the best, seeing her track record when it comes to worrying and headaches. “Is this another book on Wish Craft…?” She queries, her voice soft.
Nodding to nobody in particular, you open the book and flip through some of the pages until you settle on one with a few illustrations to assist in your reading. You focus in, your hunger resting to allow you to concentrate. Putting a finger to the strange writing, you begin to translate the text.
The book talks about many different rituals for crafting wishes: from the correct way to pick up four leaf clovers to calling out to shooting stars the correct way, to…
“Favour Tree what now?”
Surprisingly, this is one of the rare times Bonnie is the calm one of the group.
“THE FAVOUR TREE CAN GRANT WISHES!?!”
“FAVOUR TREES LIKE THE ONE IN DORMONT?!?!”
“THE ONE EVERYONE ASKED THINGS TO?!?”
Aha! It makes sense! Asking a higher power for a favour is no different from making a wish, isn't it? Isn't it??? Could someone's wish to the Favour Tree have trapped you here? Whose? Surely not yours! But your wish was small, negligible even!! Surely there has to be something else to it. You flip and flip and flip and flip more and more pages, trying to find something you don't know, anything else that catches your eye…
…and sure enough, you find something that catches your eye. An illustration.
Amongst some other examples with paragraphs of theories tied to each and every one, there's a particularly detailed portrayal of a human with their jaw agape to unrealistic proportions. Their regular canids are replaced with a set of long fangs, much like your own. Is that… what you're meant to look like…? What it is doing in a book on the topic of Wish Craft is left a mystery. Your hunger is setting back in. You're losing focus.
You stop translating for your party. You can feel their stares but you can't look away from the book sitting in your arms. Your palms grow sweaty and your face goes pale as you keep trying to scan the boxes of information for anything SOMETHING that can help you satisfy this endless thirst but the only blinding word you can pick out is blood blood blood until that's the only word that sticks with you blood blood blood blood BLOOD BLOOD-!
You slam. the book. Shut.
“Frin!”
Bonnie is looking you, shouting your name. You gaze at them, wide eyed. They’re all looking at you, they're worried.
No blinding pun or one liner is going to take the attention off of you. Brace for the worst. Don't panic, Siffrin, you can fix it all next loop, but you’re already panicked. Sweat drips down your face.. You take a deep breath in….
…and out.
And face Odile.
“Siffrin, this is no longer going to be a subtle conversation for later.” Her tone leaves no room for rebuttal. “You're going to talk to us about what you just read, right now preferably.”
Bonnie joins in next. “Yeah, I know that Za can get freaked out by ghosts in horror stories, but you look like you actually saw one, Frin.”
“Which would be cool! If you saw a ghost!” Isabeau quips, trying to bring up the mood of the party. After seeing it fail, he takes on a more gentle demeanor when talking to you, “but yes, is something wrong Sif? You've been very on-edge today?”
You open your mouth.
“And don't you dare say ‘I’m fine’!” Mirabelle warns.
…and you immediately close your mouth.
“We want to hear what is genuinely wrong, Siffrin,” She continues. “It's okay if this journey is getting to your head, but I don't think that's all of it! Talk to us Siffrin, please.”
It takes you a moment to think over your words. You lower the brim of your hat a little and dig your face back into your cloak, careful not to bite it this time. What could you say to them? You could tell them you're scared of monsters, perhaps? No, they wouldn't believe such a childish excuse. Maybe you could admit that you're scared of being the monster. No, too truthful, and you would rather not be hated, even if it's temporary. Stars, these loops are messing with your head. It all hurts, it all aches, it all craves and it will keep craving until you get. out of here.
“Is it…” you hesitate, but your family- stop calling them that- friends are already awaiting a response. “Is it fine if we talk about this after… we beat the king? It's something that I don't want to worry over right now, especially since it's possibly-end-of-the-world day today.”
There's a brief pause. Your friends are considering it, you think!
“...Okay, Siffrin, but we're holding you to it!” Even through Mirabelle’s shouts, you can hear Odile's snort of amusement as clear as day. Isabeau sighs in relief and Bonnie takes a step back from you to give you your own space. Seems like that convinced them enough. A small pit of guilt grows in your stomach, the one thing your hunger can't devour. You won't make this promise again another loop, you're sure of it.
But for now… success!
You put the book back neatly on the shelf and assume your position in front of your party yet again. The hallway leading back to the regular library is cramped, so you’re free to drop your facade and try to just think for a moment.
Okay, so Wish Craft is a possible reason why you're trapped here. You don't know what your friends had wished for, but you can always ask them in a less serious setting in another loop. Stars, you could even bring them back here, you have all the time in the world after all. For now though, you're left guessing, because you messed up this loop by not sticking to the blinding script. Hm… did someone else curse you to this? Maybe it's something you could ask The King. He seemed to know a little bit about Wish Craft.
You're running out of things to think about and your hunger is ready to take advantage of that. Your throat burns and your muscles scream and your ears roar and your body shakes, but you’ve pushed through this before, many times. You’ll do it again. Again, and again and again.
You don't even realize you’ve walked right into a sadness, barreling straight at you. It knocks you to the ground, but you quickly get up and take a leap back.
“Siffrin!” Mirabelle voices.
“Get ready everyone!” You hear Odile announce, readying a paper craft skill. Your party follows suit.
[Battle Start!]
You leap straight into the fray, dagger drawn and cackling with scissors craft. It tries to raise a hand to stop you, but the sadness is far too slow. A quick slice straight down its side causes even more tears to flow from its inhuman eyes.
The hand it raised to stop you had two fingers extended outwards, the rest curled. Détresse. Scissors type.
Mirabelle pierces its form with her rapier. Isabeau pummels its face in. Both of their efforts don’t seem to slow it down at all- in hindsight, you should have leveled up your party a little more before searching for all of those Wish Craft books.
It’s the Détresse’s turn next, and its attention is still on you. It hides behind its crying mask and aims a scissors sign toward you. The next thing you feel is a tearing pain on your left shoulder: a lacerating cut- clean, swift, and precise- bleeds profusely. Your body is adept at stitching up such wounds in no time, but the pain and the sight of your own blood is enough to cause your famished stomach to roar, wanting a taste of something similar. If you knew it would stop the screams echoing from inside you, begging for a drop, you would’ve bitten and eaten yourself a long time ago.
There is no time to linger on your hunger. Focus on the fight.
You mimic the Détresse’s movements and say your iconic one liner: “Knife To Meet You!” sending a cut through the sadnesses’ mask. If it wasn’t made out of…whatever sadnesses were made of, maybe you would’ve sliced right through it. Odile sends a compliment on your technique your way, and blasts the Détresse with an attack of her own. It stumbles, but regains its footing. A few more strikes should do it.
Amongst the sounds of battle, you can hear Bonnie shout something your way. You feel a little bit stronger. You would usually turn around and thank the kid, but staving off your hunger forces you to pay attention to one thing at a time.
You feel healing craft envelop you, but you dare not break your focus, preparing for your next strike. Isabeau tries to take the Détresse’s attention from the rest of your party. Nothing seems to happen, is it as focused as you are? Surely it’s preparing to exact vengeance back on you, but you can’t tell where it’s looking through that blinding mask. You leap to attack.
At the same time, the sadness lands a blow on Odile. Your focus is momentarily broken by the unpredictable movement.
Blood drips from her collar. Her footsteps falter just a little bit, but you fail to take notice of that over the sound of her frenetic heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump, it sounds, enveloping the rest of the noise in the hallway. Saliva lines your mouth. You need to regain focus, but you can’t tear your eyes from Odile’s neck. Focus focus focus FOCUS FOCUS FOCUS-
Your feet move faster than your mind does. The next thing you know, your fangs are sunken into her flesh, siphoning any last bit of blood you can get. She struggles like a rabbit in your grasp before her eyes begin to glaze. You shouldn’t be enjoying this- THIS IS YOUR FRIEND! But… your hunger wanes, just a little bit, and you're inclined to take more and more. So what if you’re greedy for just one loop? That’s what Loop asked you. So what if they’re your friends? None of it should matter anyways. They won’t remember a thing.
Her blood tastes amazing, as if it’s the only filling meal you have had in months, because it is. You drink and drink and keep drinking. Your muscles express their gratitude by giving you the strength to hold onto her trembling form. You hunger for even more.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, FRIN!?!”
Bonnie. Bonnie is watching you. Suck the life out of your family member stop stop STOP friend. The sadness is gone, pummeled into the floor tiles. The rest of your party members are staring right. at. you.
Panic erupts in the hallway. Isabeau sprints over, desperately trying to pry you off of Odile, but your muscles refuse to move, your teeth stay latched, your stomach will not settle for this. No no nonononono
“LET GO OF HER!!!” Mirabelle is shouting, shouting at you. She’s afraid, afraid of you. Her rapier is on the ground, choosing to instead shield Bonnie’s eyes from the mess rather than stab you with it. You wish she would’ve reconsidered.
The blood tastes so good but the guilt feels so bad and you can feel Isabeau trying to save his friend from you. From a monster.
You're Siffrin, The Monster, your role is to gain the party’s trust with your dirty disguise and defeat them from the inside.That is it, that is all.
Rough hands- hands that you may have liked to feel in another life- tug on your shoulders harder, until you're forced to let go. As soon as you’re off, Mirabelle runs over and begins to mend Odile’s wounds- both from the sadness and your fangs. You might as well have done the damage to her upfront instead of that blinding sadness. Her heartbeat has grown faint in your ears, but it’s still apparent. She has gone slack in Mirabelle's arms. You’re left staring face to face with Isabeau.
The look of repulsion and shock makes him pale, possibly even paler than you are naturally. He looks at you like you’re disgusting, like you should be ashamed of yourself for what you are. He’s right. You should be. These are the saviours, and you’re some vile creature looking for a purpose beyond sucking the life out of others.
So what if you’re greedy for one loop…? So what if you’re greedy for one loop??? IT ALL MATTERS. YOU HURT THEM. YOU. HURT. THEM. NO NO YOU’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOURSELF YOU HURT THEM YOU HURT THEM AND THEY HATE YOU THEY’LL ALWAYS HATE YOU YOU HURT THEM YOU’RE A DETRIMENT YOU HURT THEM LOOP BACK LOOP BACK LOOP BACKLOOPBACKLOOPBACKLOOPBACK-
you feel
a tug
on your stomach.