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“You really should take better care of this, you know.”

“Like you’re one to talk. When was the last time that you brushed your hair, hm?”

You gently tug the handful of hair that you have in your hand as heat floods your face. “I-I just have more important things to do! I’m a busy person!”

A soft huff of laughter causes their shoulders to shake and shift slightly. Instead of telling them to be still, you reposition yourself to match. That’d be a losing battle, anyway.

“Ah yes of course, I apologise. You have much urgent business to attend to, like looking after other people’s hair but not your own. Weren’t you helping *^%$*! With his yesterday?”

You hmph indignantly even as your hand guides the brush. They’ve been teasing you for weeks now, but you can’t help it, okay!! He’s been growing realllly quickly, and your parents sometimes struggle a bit to keep up with all three of you. That means that you have Older Kid duties now, like helping *^%$*! with things that he might need a little help with, just like (<”?-=* does for you.

As for right now…

You’d rather eat sand than admit it out loud, but spending time like this is just nice.

There’s a few seconds of silence before they hesitantly begin to say: “Did I upset you? I’m sorry, I just think it’s cu-“

“I’m not upset!” You hurriedly exclaim, accidentally dragging the brush too harshly against a knot and causing the other to hiss in pain. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine…” They trail off and you pause suspiciously. “I’ve been thinking about getting it cut short, anyways.”

!!

“What, why??”

“Well, it does get in the way sometimes; it’d be nice not to have to worry as much about it getting tangled in my knitting.” They muse. Suddenly they start to turn around and you’re forced to take the brush away from their hair. Now faced with their eyes sparkling with mischief, you brace yourself for whatever ribbing that they’ve come up with.

Turns out that you were right to, because the next thing they say, with a shit-eating grin is and gesturing at your own short locks: “And then maybe I’ll be as cute as you~”

“No!! I’m not cute! I’m very cool and deadly!”

“Aw, there’s no reason you can’t be all those things! Cute and deadly, like a pufferfish!”

The incredulity that that statement inspires renders you speechless for a few seconds. “Did you. Did you just say that I’m like a pufferfish.”

They pout a little, asking: “What’s wrong with pufferfish?”

“Nothing? I’m just surprised?”

“That I like pufferfish? I had no idea that you held such a grudge against marine life, +@://#”

“I don’t-“ have anything against pufferfish, is what you were about to say, but you finally notice that their shit-eating smile is now even more entertained as they watch you get more confused. “Stop messing with me!”

“Aw, but starlight, you’re so cute when you-“

“STOP!!”

…

You jolt awake, the remnants of childish indignance clinging for a few seconds before fading. The wooden ceiling of the room of the inn where the party stayed for the night meets your gaze. Faintly, Isa’s quiet breathing can be heard somewhere to your left.

Was that….Was that?!

Like most dreams, the details start to fade almost as soon as you wake up, but you throw off the blanket and leap out of bed anyway.

Quickly, you tear into the bedside table. You know that you’d seen a notepad here somewhere-!

“Woah Sif, what’s going on? “A voice still rough with sleep interrupts. Ah, apparently your rummaging has woken Isabeau.

You don’t pause to look at him, as adorable as his bedhead undoubtedly is. “I had a dream, Isa!”

“A…dream?” His voice has now taken on a tone of deep concern and is, you suddenly realise, closer than before.

Ugh, there isn’t anything useful in this table! You turn around, only to discover that Isa has been hovering behind you, close but still giving you space, palms up and ready by his chest in case he needs to do something.

For the first time since you woke up, you slow down a little as you take in his tense body language and cautious expression. Yes, hm, in hindsight you suppose your behaviour might be a little concerning without context.

But then you just need to give him it!!

“Not about the loops,” you reassure, “Do you have anything to write with?”

Isabeau still looks kind of confused, but the concern has dissipated somewhat. “I probably have something somewhere in my pack, why?”

“I think that I had a dream about my older sibling! So I really, really need to write it down before I…forget…”

Suddenly your head starts to go fuzzy, like it’s being wrapped in cotton wool. You immediately grip onto your hair and tug on it harshly with both hands, as if the pain will keep your mind grounded- keep it from forgetting-!

“Sif! What’s wrong?!”

They had bright eyes that danced with mirth whenever they teased you, which was often, but it was always gentle- a scar slicing one of their eyebrows in half from an injury that happened before you were born- It made their eyelid droop, and they invented increasingly ludicrous stories for it every time you asked- freckles dusted on their cheeks, so baba sometimes joked that they could see constellations in them and- and-

D  a

  r   k       l       e    s        s

h                      a                                  ir

j

            u

                        s                       t

l           ik                     e

y                      o

                        u                      r           s

“Sif! Siffrin!”

You come to kneeling on the wooden floor of the inn where the party is staying for the night. Isabeau’s panicked breathing is loud in your ears from where he’s also kneeling right in front of you.

What are you doing on the floor?

You look up at his horrified face and blanch. “What’s the matter, Isa? Did something happen?!”

You catch incredulity on his expression for a few seconds before it’s replaced by worry. “Did something hap- Siffrin, you were talking and then just collapsed suddenly! Are you alright?”

Ah, that’d explain why you’re on the floor.

“Was I sleepwalking or something?” You murmur. You’ve never done that before as far as you’re aware, but why else would you be on the floor? They say that you shouldn’t try to wake sleepwalkers, right? Maybe Isabeau accidentally woke you and your body reacted weirdly.

“You don’t remember?” Speaking of, he’s shifted so that he’s sitting in front of you now, peering at your face. His gaze is a little intense and it makes you want to squirm.

“Uh, no? Alsocouldyoustopstaringatmeplease.”

“Uh, right! Sorry!” Standing up, he offers a hand to you and you take it after a second of hesitation.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks as he pulls you up with ease. You’ve always been familiar with how strong Isabeau is, of course, having fought alongside him in battle, but it impresses you in moments like this, too.

“I’m fine, really.” You respond and offer him a small smile. “How about we go back to bed?”

The smile he sends back is a little strained, but he agrees easily enough.

The next morning, you awake from a dreamless sleep.

• - -

It seems that the moment is largely forgotten the next morning, though Isabeau kept sending you looks during breakfast that you’re sure Odile picked up on. You’ve already resolved not to think about it until she brings it up, if she brings it up; it’s not as if anything happened, anyway. You do wonder what it was that you said in your sleep, though. Hopefully it wasn’t anything too embarrassing.

You’re relegated firmly to the middle of the pack with Bonnie again, on strict orders not to engage in combat until your body heals from the Craft exhaustion that you put it through. Odile is a few paces behind, having requested some alone time to ponder something, while Isabeau and Mirabelle are up ahead, chatting.

“Hey Sif, hey, Sif.”

Looking down at Bonnie, you see a mischievous grin on their face as they point upwards at the sky. “That cloud sort of looks like a butt.”

You snrk, more out of surprise than actually finding it funny. Bonnie seems proud of themselves anyways, so you take a moment to look upwards and…huh. It actually does kind of look like a butt, if you used your imagination.

“Nice one, Bonnie.” You praise, looking long enough to see their chest puff out with pride before returning your gaze to the clouds. “Hm, that one sort of looks like Isa.”

“What? Show me!”

You and Bonnie entertain yourselves in this manner for a while and it effectively keeps your minds off of the drudgery of putting one foot in front of the other. It isn’t long before you’re trying to come up with the most ridiculous things that you can think of, mostly so you can hear their scandalised protestations.

“That one looks like a pie with legs!”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“What, are you afraid that it would…”

“No.”

“Get a step ahead?”

“No!! Bad!!”

You can’t help but laugh- nothing boisterous, but small and quiet. It’s enough to put a stunned expression on Bonnie’s face regardless and you immediately feel a little self-conscious. “Did I…laugh weird, or something?”

“No, no!” That’s Mirabelle, who had apparently slowed down to listen to your and Bonnie’s cloud-naming contest. “It’s just been a while since we’ve heard you laugh, is all.” Isabeau is still hovering ahead, within hearing distance but far enough that it gives the illusion of privacy. He gives himself away by sending a concerned glance behind himself and meeting your eye; he cringes a little and slows down so that he’s walking with the rest of you.

“Don’t worry about it, Sif! It’s just nice to hear you being happy, is all.” He tells you, his face screaming just how much he means it to the point that you yearn for your hat to hide under; you can feel your cheeks growing dark.

“Yeah! I saw you making a weird face so I decided to do something about it.” Bonnie proclaims, fists raised to the sky to emphasise just how much they mean it.

Oh, that…

Your chest fills with warmth. You’re definitely blushing now.

“Thank you, Bonnie.” You tell them, and smile at their incredibly pleased expression.

In fact, come to think of it…

“Heh, this reminds me of something that I did with my younger brother.”

You can see Isabeau suddenly stop walking, but Mirabelle nods with a smile for a few seconds before her expression shifts to shock. “A YOUNGER BROTHER? YOU HAVE A SIBLING?!”

“You have a brother?!” Bonnie exclaims, equally surprised.

“Yes??”Coming to a stop yourself, you take in her countenance and then Isabeau’s. He looks…thoughtful, maybe? Definitely questioning, which is a little confusing.

“Have I not mentioned him before?”

Mirabelle looks to be gearing up for an inquisition, but Odile catches up with you all before she can open her mouth.

“What’s all the sudden ruckus about?” She asks, in that tired way she has that means she’s thinking the young people are up to bullshit again or something along those lines.

“MADAME!” Mirabelle immediately and loudly answers, which makes both you and Odile wince. She instantly looks apologetic. “Sorry, sorry! It’s just that Siffrin has a younger brother!”

“Yeah, and they never told us!” Bonnie puts in, sounding genuinely hurt.

That seems to put Odile on the back foot for a few seconds, but she swiftly recovers and levels the others with a look. “Well, Siffrin isn’t obligated to tell us anything about his personal life. You can’t just demand details from them.”

“That’s not it!” You cut in, feeling more than a little panicked. They all look at you with varying expressions. Bonnie still seems upset, Mirabelle too but less so, and Isabeau…

Is looking at you like you’re an errant puzzle piece that he can’t figure out how fits into the whole picture.

“Have I really never brought him up before?” You mumble into your cloak, wanting your hat more than ever.

“I can confirm that you have not.” Odile shifts so that she’s standing more with the others rather than behind you and you can see her full face for the first time this conversation. Like always, she’s frustratingly inscrutable. “But I can guess that you were about to tell a story about him, were you not?”

“Hey, yeah!” Mirabelle brightens immediately. “You said that something reminded you of him?”

“Well…” You’re much less comfortable than you were when you initially said that, but they’re all watching you expectantly. You slowly breathe in and out to centre yourself. “Um. I was reminded because one time, I helped him paint a bunch of stars on his bedroom ceiling and we made up constellations for them.”

“Stars?” Apparently too upset with you to ask you, Bonnie instead looks towards Odile. She hums thoughtfully for a moment before whipping out her notebook and beginning to write something down. Respectfully, that kind of makes you break out in a cold sweat!

“I believe that they’re referring to those bright dots that appear in the night sky. Some people see pictures in them, which is what constellations are, correct?”

“Um, yes. My brother wanted to paint some on his ceiling so that he wouldn’t have to go outside to look at them every night that he wanted to see them, so I helped him. At first we tried to stick to real constellations, but eventually we got bored with that and started to come up with ones like ‘the toilet’ instead.”

Bonnie snickers, apparently despite themselves because they visibly wrestle their features back into a scowl. Mirabelle seems entertained, too, smiling once more. Even Odile is smirking a little. “And just how young were you when you did this, Siffrin?”

That makes you think for a second. “I don’t know… ten, maybe nine? And my brother would have been six or seven. Oh, hah,” you laugh, suddenly recalling another aspect to this story. “Our older sibling caught us at it and tried really hard to be disapproving, but they found it funny, too. They weren’t too pleased about having to help us clean up the bedsheets though since we’d forgotten to put tarp down or anything.”

While the others seem suitably entertained by this story, Isa has an expression of dawning horror growing on his face. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, he urgently asks you: “What were their names?”

The question stuns you for a moment. “Their names?”

Coming closer to you, you can see more clearly the distress that’s lining Isabeau’s shoulders, making them hike up around his ears. “Yes Siffrin, what were their names? Can you remember?”

“Of course I can remember their names! They’re…they’re…” Their names. You were thinking them just a few seconds ago. Of blinding course you can remember your sibling’s names! One was named after someone from a constellation story, and the other was named after the moon. You know this! You know their names!

“Siffrin, what’s wrong?”

“What’s the matter? You’ve gone really pale!”

“Siffrin, I think you need to sit down.”

“Sif?”

Bringing up the constellation story was a sure-fire way to be embarrassing, so you’d memorised it just to be a little shit. You know you did, so why can’t you remember?!

Someone…someone used to say “Ah, the full moon rises,” whenever that sibling was late getting out of bed. Who was that? Was it you? Why can’t you…

You blink, and for some reason your party has stopped walking. They’re all staring at you with varying degrees of concern, apart from Isabeau.

Just looking at his expression makes your chest clench in pain and your eye widen.

Isabeau looks heartbroken.

“Oh Sif, I’m so sorry.” For some reason, his voice is thick like he’s about to cry. You want to comfort him, but your body is rooted to the ground like an ancient tree. A sourceless feeling of apprehension keeps you still.

“What-what for?”

Something in your voice causes Odile’s eyes to widen before they too soften with the same sort of grief that is being broadcasted through every line in Isabeau’s body. “Ah, I see now.”

“See what? What happened?”

“I’d like to know that too.” Mirabelle is hovering anxiously over you, as if she’s afraid that you might faint, and looking between Isabeau and Odile. Clearly something has happened, but no one is speaking up!

“Perhaps we should make camp first.”

“What! But we’ve only been walking for a couple of hours!” That protest is from Bonnie, and honestly, you’re inclined to agree. You need to make good time to Bambouche before the winter sets in.

“Yes, but I don’t think this conversation should happen so out in the open. A Sadness could pop up at any time.”

Bonnie protests again, but you’ve stopped paying attention. Isabeau has stepped closer to you and is offering you a smile as brittle as a house made of cards. “You’re going to be alright, Sif.”

Well, the reassurance would be nice if you knew what he was reassuring you about!

At some point Bonnie is pacified, though they’re still a little moody as Mirabelle helps them set up the tent that they’ll be staying in. You evidently have no say in the matter as camp springs up around you, and you’re left as hopelessly confused as a salmon migrating in January. Really, what happened?

.  .   .

You jam your key into the front door, unlocking it and throwing it open with force. Inky darkness covers the surroundings outside despite the Crafted streetlamps that start a way up the road. The blinding council said they’d install some by the dock’s neighbourhood when your parents kicked up a fuss about having to pick you up from school in the pitch black, and that had been years ago. Stupid blinding council, stupid adults, stupid +@://#!

“(<”?-=*?”

*^%$*!’s figure is framed by the light spilling from the doorway, casting their silhouette in deep shadow. Despite that, you can still see the tiredness in their expression, the evidence of the sleep that worry snatched from them as soon as they woke up to discover that +@://#! was no longer in their shared room.

“Go back inside, comet.” You instruct, stepping forward to shoo them inside. Dang it, you can’t afford to dawdle too long when they might be off doing something stupid!

“I don’t want to go back in!” This is accompanied by a childish stomp of their left foot. Ice floods your veins for a moment as you listen intently for any signs of stirring in the house. “I want +@://#!!”

“I know, comet, which is why I need to go find them right now and you need to go back inside.”

“Why can’t I come with you?”

“Because someone needs to be here to ream that idiot out when they come back and you’ve mastered the art of guilt tripping,” You mutter to yourself before saying louder: “You’re too little to be in a boat without mom or baba, remember? So you need to stay here in case they come back.”

Even despite the darkness, you can tell that his eyes are blown wide. “You think that they took the boat?”

I think that he knows better than to wander the streets at night but is still likely to do something very, very stupid. The thought reverberates in your skull like the ringing of a bell, but you don’t say it. “I think they might have, which is why I need you to stay here and wake mom and baba up if I’m not back with them in an hour. Can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh!” Being given an important job seems to have chased away their tiredness, because they suddenly stand up straight like they’ve been called to attention. The situation that you currently find yourselves in is awful, but you can’t help but smile a little in spite of it all.

Too quickly for them to escape it, you duck forward to plant a kiss on top of their curly hair. Predictably, they reel backwards with a theatrical “Eww!” but grin, pleased.

“Remember, wake them up if I’m not back in an hour, okay?”

Sobering up, *^%$*! gives you a firm nod and steps back beyond the threshold. “Okay… you will find them, right?”

Despite it all, you manage to snort. “Of course. I doubt that they could have gone that far.”

Of blinding course, you have no choice but to eat your words when faced with the empty space at the dock where your family’s boat is usually tied up.

“Ugghhhh” You groan, swinging your Crafted lamp over again to double-check. Yep, it’s gone. Your stomach drops to your shoes. What are you going to do now? You talked a big game to your brother earlier, but he could be anywhere in the bay by now.

The night air is clinging to your skin, making you sweat even more than the stress of the situation is causing, and the lamp slips in your palm. Swearing, you catch it, and the light lands on a boat that you know belongs to one of your neighbours. Their kid had spent all last summer bragging over how it was better than your family’s because it was bigger.

In the end, you only need to consider for a second. You’ll apologise to your neighbours later.

. . .

With a small gasp, you wake up. The bedsheets are clinging to your skin with sweat.

You dive for the bedside table and flip open the notebook resting on it, pen flying furiously across the page. As soon as you finish, when you’ve wrung every last drop out of the dream that you’re carefully-not-thinking-about-as-a-memory, you heave a sigh and gaze up at the ceiling. Paper charms that you made in class dangle on strings from one of the beams. Your temporary roommate teased you that they look like a mobile, but that isn’t what you had in mind at all. You’re pretty sure that you were inspired by something else…something…

Oh, well. Something else.

You sit up, grimacing at the feeling of your sweat-soaked hair falling against your neck. People have been telling you to get it cut for a while now, that it’s a liability against Sadnesses, but for some reason you can’t stand the idea.

Your eyes fall across the book. That dream… could it possibly explain the helpless feeling of wanderlust you’ve been coping with ever since you can recall? That you need to be searching for something only without having any idea what that something is.

Or well. Someone, apparently.

For a brief moment, you allow yourself to bend under the weight of your grief, hiding your face from the world in the sheets. It’s so heavy that some days you wonder whether you’ll buckle under it and just not get back up. You feel like doing that, some days.

After you decide that this pause is done with, you swing your legs out of bed and start to get ready for the day. Who knows when your roommate will be back after all; they’ve already caught you crying once. It’s not something that you need to re-experience.

Apparently the Change God is not looking down on you this day, because that very person walks into the room just as you’re cleaning up your face. “Woah Camille, are you alright?”

You mentally sigh but outwardly offer them a smile, hopefully erasing all traces of whatever expression you were making that made them ask that. “Oh, yes I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

As you’d predicted, when faced with the prospect of a deeper conversation they chicken out. “Oh, uh, no reason. You just looked a bit bothered when I came in, is all.”

“Ah, there’s just not much to be looking forward to today.” You let real despondence creep into your voice when you say that, because it’s true. Being a part of the Sadness Extermination Crew sounds cool on paper, but in practice it’s hours of monotony followed by brief flashes of intense concern whenever someone gets hurt.

Judging by their grimace, they agree with you. “Yes, well, we can’t exactly let the Sadnesses keep harassing travelers. I know it sucks, but at least the cafeteria will have cake afterwards?”

You sigh audibly this time, but still say: “Thanks for trying to cheer me up, Francis. Was there something that you came in here for?”

“Oh shoot you’re right, I forgot my staff.”

As they pass behind you to root around on their side of the room for their weapon, you stare down at your hands and consider. You’ve been stuck in Corbeaux for almost a year, now, thanks to the King. Even discounting when the city was frozen in time, the out skirts are still swarming with Sadnesses left over from his occupation, making it difficult for anyone to get in or out. Thankfully the Houses had been well stocked prior to being frozen in time, but they can’t support the city indefinitely, so people need to go out and remove the danger.

You’d been hoping that by taking part that it would make the time feel like it’s passing more quickly, that you aren’t wasting days that you could be searching being stuck as surely as you were when you were frozen in time.

You’d hoped in vain.

“Well Camille, ready to kick some monster butt today?” You look up and Francis is beaming at you, raring to go. You can’t help but grin at their enthusiasm even in the face of such a dull task. It reminds you of-

“Come on, (<”?-=*, mom said that she’d take us fishing today!”

You shake the thought away with the ease of long practice. “Yes, I’m coming.”