Chapter Text
Siffrin is taking too long.
The thought washes over Odile and that's it. She knows herself. Now that the thought is in her mind, she isn't going to be able to focus on anything else.
Siffrin is taking too long.
Odile snaps her book shut and stands up.
"M'dame?" Isabeau calls out.
"He's taking too long," she says plainly.
"Oh, um." Mirabelle also stands up. "Siffrin has been gone for a while. I was wondering, uh. How long are we going to give them?"
"Not this long," Odile says.
She thinks of Craft Exhaustion and energy crashes and foolish rogues pushing themselves too hard, too quickly. Why did they let Siffrin go off by himself again? He wanted to... what? Say goodbye to that strange Loop person? Odile understands the desire for privacy, but she must not have been thinking clearly half an hour ago.
In what world had it been a good idea to let Siffrin, freshly traumatized and EXHAUSTED, go off by themself to talk to some inhuman stranger without any of them present? Without any of them at least NEARBY. For facet's sake, she feels like an idiot. Maybe the stress and heartache from the past twenty-four hours HAD gotten to her.
"I'm going to find them," she says.
"I'm coming too!" Boniface shouts. Odile feels a tiny hand grabbing at her coat. "I was gettin' bored anyways. Let's go Dile."
"Me too!" Isabeau says. His expression is bright and cheery. If she didn't know him any better, that's all Odile would say it is. "Sif search party part two is a go!"
"W-wait," Mirabelle calls out. "What if he comes back here and we're all gone?"
It's the same thought Mirabelle had last night, when they all realized Siffrin might not be returning to the Clocktower. It's different now. This isn't like last night at all.
Odile does her best not to sigh.
"I doubt that will be a problem," she says. "There's only the one path from here to the town, correct?"
Mirabelle answers like she often does. Uncertainly. "Yes?"
"So," Odile explains. "If Siffrin is headed back this way, we're bound to run into them."
"Well. Um."
Odile tries to give Mirabelle a bit more grace. Reassurance isn't her strong suit, but she owes her at least an attempt. "If you're still worried about it, you're welcome to wait here for us. I'm sure we'll be back soon. I've just decided that I've had enough waiting around."
"Oh." Mirabelle wrings her hands together.
"Don't worry Belle!" Boniface says. "We're gonna find Frin super quick and be back here before you can believe it."
"How quick is that, Bonbon?" Isabeau chimes in.
"SUPER quick," they say. Odile sees them attempt to snap their fingers, just like Siffrin. They fail. "Like, like. SUPER SPEEDY MILLION STEPS quick."
"Uh huh," Isabeau says, grinning.
"That does sound pretty fast," Mirabelle says, lips pulled up into a smile.
"It's SO fast," Boniface says seriously. "And it's only gonna get faster."
These kids. Odile knows she's probably smiling too. She can't believe she had been ready to all go their separate ways not even three hours ago.
"So, are you staying?" she asks Mirabelle.
"No, no." Mirabelle jogs up to the group. "I've heard we're going to be speedy-thousands-steps quick, so I think it'll be okay."
"It's a MILLION steps, Belle!"
"A million steps, sorry."
"Yay!" Isabeau says. "Welcome to the search party!"
Again, Odile recognizes the levity in the way they're all talking, but the reminder that there's a missing member of her little group puts the pit of worry right back into her stomach. Siffrin has taken FAR too long for a simple goodbye. She's going to feel like a gem-forsaken idiot if she finds him passed out along the path somewhere.
Odile starts walking.
"Come on," she says. "Let's go find our rogue."
Well.
They found their rogue.
Odile holds an arm out, stopping Boniface from running up towards the base of the Favor Tree. It's not safe. Not yet. Not until she figures out what exactly she's looking at.
The fact that Isabeau and Mirabelle do run ahead is out of her control. They're both capable adults. Surely they've recognized the impossibility of this situation and will react with reasonable caution.
"Siffrin!" Mirabelle yells.
"Sif, Sif, oh crab oh no," Isabeau says.
They both immediately approach the two figures under the Favor Tree. Isabeau crouches next to them. Mirabelle folds down on her knees at their side. Odile purses her lips. Maybe not so cautious, then. She supposes she can't blame them.
Given what's become of Siffrin.
"Dile," Boniface whines, pushing at her arm. "Come on, let me go. I wanna see the two Frins."
The two Siffrins.
Yes.
This is why she is being cautious.
Two Siffrins, huddled in lump together on the ground under the Favor Tree. Neither of which have spoken yet. Both of whom look like they've seen better days.
"Boniface," she says. And then sighs. "If I let you get closer, you have to stay behind Isabeau, okay?"
"Why? That's stupid."
"You must realize that it's not normal for there to be two Siffrins, yes?"
"Well duh," they say. "But it's just Frin."
"Look at them, Boniface. There's two of them. This is almost certainly the work of dangerous Craft, and there's no guarantee that they are both our Siffrin. I need you to be cautious, understood?"
"Um." Boniface looks up at her with big eyes. She can see that thought rattling around in their brain. "Why‒ why would one of them not be... ours?"
Urgh, is she... is she doing it again? Being overly suspicious? Odile sighs, trying to curb her instincts.
"I don't know, Boniface. I'm just worried." She pats them on the shoulder and turns back to assess the situation. Mirabelle has her hands over one of the two Siffrins – ah, that one seems to be unconscious. That's not good. And Isabeau looks to be trying to engage the other Siffrin in conversation.
Key word here being 'trying'.
It's not going well.
But... it's not dangerous, is it. Yes, there are two Siffrins. And yes, she's pretty certain there was recently a fight. But whatever the threat was, it seems to be gone.
Boniface will be safe. They aren't the one to be worrying about right now.
"Go on," she mutters, tapping Boniface on the back. The kid runs over without another word, and she can't help but feel reassured that they dutifully angle themself slightly behind Isabeau, just like she'd asked.
Odile steps forward too, slower. She takes everything in. She makes notes in her mind of what she sees. What she doesn't see. The similarities and differences and everything in between.
There are two Siffrins.
They are, for all intents and purposes, identical. At least as far as she can tell from here. Same darkless hair, with the same dyed ends. Same face. Same small shape. Same eye.
But things get different when she considers what they're wearing.
She looks, and looks again. And...
And it appears as if they're sharing the same, single set of clothing.
The unconscious Siffrin is wearing the most. Boots, pants, shirt, gloves, and eyepatch. The other Siffrin, sitting in a heap with their double's head pillowed on their lap, is wearing the cloak. And... it's quite likely just the cloak. Odile sees pale, gloveless hands, a bare foot, and most notably, a scarred, eyeless socket partially hidden under messy hair.
The cloaked Siffrin has the other Siffrin in a light hold. Like they had dragged their unconscious counterpart up into their lap and then forgot to let go. His hands are still curled in the fabric of Siffrin's shirt. Their shoulders are arched over the other's head. It looks protective. It looks defensive. It looks, frankly, like an extremely worrisome pose that does not bode well for either Siffrin.
It's strange. It's SO strange. Odile catalogues what she's seeing in her mind and her thoughts whir with buzzing, incomplete theories.
"Sif," Isabeau says. He's been trying to get the other's attention since the moment he sat down. "Sif, hey buddy, hey. Can you– can you hear me?"
Clearly, the answer is no.
"I'm... I'm going to touch you, okay?"
Oh, this cannot possibly go well.
Odile watches the way Isabeau's hand hovers over the cloaked Siffrin's shoulder. She's certain Siffrin is hearing and processing none of this. Glazed eye, fixed stare, short, stuttering breaths. He's so obviously zoned out or lost in thought or something worse. This plus their defensive posture and typical jumpiness with touch means that there is no way that this can go well. Odile knows this, and she's certain that Isabeau knows this too, but they need to make some headway here, so she lets it happen all the same.
When Isabeau's hand gently meets Siffrin's shoulder, they react like they've been attacked.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" they shout. His voice is raw and frightened. At the same time, they flinch violently. One of their hands releases its hold on the other Siffrin to slap away Isabeau's touch. The arm then remains there, in the air, as if to protect themself. As if frozen.
Glittering gems, this is a mess.
"Sorry," Isabeau says. "Sorry, sorry. I'm sorry Sif. I just– you weren't reacting, and I was worried and–"
"Stop," Siffrin says. "Just stop. Stop. Stop. Stop talking. Stop talking to me. Stop it. Stop. Stop. Stop."
"Siffrin," Mirabelle tries.
"STOP, stop, stop, s-stop. Stop talking. Stop seeing. Stop looking at me. Stop it. Just stop, stop, stop–"
He's babbling. His hand now grasps at his hair. It's not much better than the earlier catatonia, but at least they're talking now.
As the words devolve into near-incoherent pleas, Mirabelle keeps trying to get their attention, Isabeau keeps trying to do damage control, and the other Siffrin keeps lying there fully limp and unresponsive. Odile takes this moment to reaffirm that yes, he's just unconscious – not dead, not still and frozen, that their chest rises and falls with shallow but steady breaths – before she turns her attention back to the ongoing conversational disaster.
What is she supposed to do here?
"CAN EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP!?"
Ah. Boniface. Directly to the point as always.
Mirabelle eeps. Isabeau startles. Siffrin's chants choke off into stunned silence. Despite the situation, Odile feels a warm glow of pride at Boniface's technique. No nonsense, this one. Not in the moments where it matters.
Boniface stomps up next to Isabeau. Their fists are clenched tight. Odile can tell they're a bit frightened, even as they scowl in frustration. Everyone looks at them, even Siffrin.
"I don't know what's going on!" Boniface says loudly, angrily. "But I do know that you're all being stupid crabs about it! Just get to the point already!! Frin!" Siffrin blinks owlishly at Boniface. "Why are there two of you!?"
"I–" Siffrin's voice is hoarse. He swallows harshly. "I couldn't possibly say."
A coherent, if useless answer. Still, it's progress.
"Yes you can???" Boniface says. "Just say it???"
Siffrin's face does something strange that Odile thinks might be an attempt at a smile. Their hand slips from their hair to land absently on the shoulder of their counterpart. They look dazed and overwhelmed.
"Why aren't you saying anything???" Boniface says angrily, foot stomping on the ground.
"Boniface," Odile says when it becomes obvious that Siffrin has no verbal follow up to their demand. "Siffrin politely and formally told you that they didn't know the answer to your question. That's what 'I couldn't possibly say' usually means."
"Well that's stupid," Boniface says.
"Perhaps," Odile says. "But you shouldn't keep yelling at them about it. Don't you agree, Siffrin?"
Siffrin looks at her, and then their eye flits about the area like they're considering every possible escape route. If he wasn't still clinging to the unconscious double on his lap, Odile thinks he'd very well attempt to run away.
Right. Add that to the list. Overwhelmed, defensive, dazed, flighty. She needs to tone herself back or else risk losing any hope of getting answers. Focus on the priorities. Make sure everyone is safe.
"What happened here?" she asks.
"Oh," Siffrin drawls brightly. "Where to start."
And that's all they say.
Gems alive.
"How about we start with injuries?" Isabeau asks. His hands are held close to his chest. "Are you injured anywhere? Either of you?"
Siffrin startles, eye flicking briefly to Isabeau before immediately looking away. Their hands worry at the fabric of the other Siffrin's shirt.
"Oh, I'm fine!" he says. "Don't worry about me, haha."
Odile has never heard a less convincing statement in her life.
"Right," Isabeau says. "We'll come back to that. Can we take a look at, um. The other Siffrin then?"
Siffrin freezes. His hands clench tightly. Fabric bunches beneath them. Faintly, as if doing so unconsciously, Siffrin shakes their head no.
"Please?" Isabeau asks.
Odile watches the interaction carefully. The fact that one of them is unconscious is truly the most worrying thing right now. It's been a few minutes since they've arrived. At no point has the other Siffrin shown any signs of waking.
"Oh Change," Mirabelle keens anxiously. It's the first thing she's said in a while, and no part of her tone has Odile feeling at ease. "Is... is that bruising around his neck?"
Odile's stomach drops. She only just manages to fight off the instinct to verify that statement with her own eyes in favor of keeping her gaze trained on the awake-Siffrin.
She's glad she does.
Siffrin's eye widens. He looks afraid. Their face twitches like it's trying to grin, to frown, but has forgotten how to do either. He looks down at the double in their lap with an odd gleam in his eye and Odile has the sudden, awful realization that she might need to figure out how to protect Siffrin from themself.
None of this is good.
This might, in fact, be very, very bad.
Siffrin takes a deep, shuddering breath in, and on the exhale, Craft sparkles at their fingertips. Odile jolts forwards, much too slow.
Her words bubble from her lips. "Siffrin, wait–"
Their hand brushes over the other Siffrin's chest. Craft sinks into the double's body. Odile hears Mirabelle gasp. She sees Isabeau's hands flutter, reaching out. She herself stops just shy of the two Siffrins, heart pounding.
Healing. That was healing Craft.
Odile watches silently as Siffrin's fingers sparkle again. Another small burst of healing. And then those same fingers drag up against the skin at his double's neck. The flesh there is made pristine.
"All better~," Siffrin croons softly.
Odile's legs go weak. She feels vaguely ill.
It was just healing Craft. Healing. None of them would've been quick enough had it been something else, but it wasn't. Siffrin used healing Craft. Not that they should be using Craft at all right now. And not that Odile has ever known Siffrin could heal. But it's fine.
They healed themself.
"S-Siffrin," Mirabelle says. "Your Craft Exhaustion..."
Siffrin hums a high, questioning note, fingers still brushing against the other Siffrin's throat.
"You need to be careful," Mirabelle finishes weakly. "N-next time, let me do the healing, okay?"
"Next time," Siffrin echoes softly.
And that's it.
Odile doesn't like this. She had tried to banish the thoughts of self-injury from her mind, but the recollection of what happened a couple hours ago – the rooftop, the fight, Siffrin slashing repeatedly at their own neck with their dagger – is hard to dismiss now that she's let it resurface. She doesn't like the coincidental injury location, and she does not like the way Siffrin seems fixated on his double's throat.
"What's going on?" Boniface asks. "Why was Frin hurt?"
Why indeed.
"They're fine," Siffrin says. "He's just resting, teehee."
"Sif, Siffrin, buddy," Isabeau says faintly. "This is... you need to tell us what's going on here."
"I don't know," Siffrin says brightly. "I wasn't expecting any of this! This wasn't supposed to happen!"
"Okay, sure. Let's start something more simple then." Isabeau speaks slowly and kindly. "Can you tell us why the other Siffrin was injured?"
"I'd rather not!!"
"How about how both of you got here?"
Siffrin blinks blankly. "We travelled here."
"Oookay, then how about why the other you is sleeping?" Ah. This is Defender training kicking in. Isabeau is talking to Siffrin like he's much younger than they are. Or like they're traumatized. Which they almost certainly are. "Is it because of the bruises you healed? Did they go to sleep because of the bruises?"
"Haha, no!" Siffrin manages something close to a smile this time. It's obviously forced. Unnatural. "He just sort of passed out on me! I don't know why! Everything was fine!"
Isabeau softens his voice. "Was there a fight?"
"Mmm, maybe. Who could really say."
"Was Craft involved?"
Siffrin's hand brushes along his double's jaw. "Does it matter?"
"A little. But it's okay if you don't want to answer right now. We can come back to that." Odile frowns, and Isabeau continues the questions gently and unhurriedly, like he's having a nice chat with a friend's child at the park. "Was Loop there?"
Siffrin freezes.
"Hey," Isabeau says, noticing the reaction. "Hey. It's okay. We can come back to that one–"
"Isabeau," Odile interrupts him. "Give them a moment, please."
The hand on Siffrin's jaw curls into a fist.
"Was Loop there?" Odile asks again.
Odile watches him unfreeze slowly. His lips twitch and his eye squints and the hand creeps up to his mouth. Just when she thinks he's not going to answer, they let out a bubbling little laugh.
"Nope~!" he sings. "No Loop! Loop is gone!"
They laugh again, incessantly, fist pressed against their lips. It's a fizzy, cheerful tune that makes Odile's chest swoop. She's never heard Siffrin sound quite like that before.
"Sif," Isabeau says carefully. "Take a breath, buddy. It's okay."
This isn't okay.
This is bad. This is bad in ways she's not yet certain about and in ways that she does not know how to handle. This is bad in ways that it makes her want to ask Boniface to leave, bad enough it might have to be adults only. Something awful happened here, and she's not sure what, but it's left Siffrin in pieces in more ways than one.
She pins 'Loop' in her mind alongside all of her other observations.
And then, reluctantly, she takes a page from the Defender playbook and decides she'll come back to that one later.
Siffrin is still giggling.
Isabeau has somehow managed to school his face into something patiently concerned. Mirabelle, on the other hand, looks haunted. Boniface just looks angry, which means the kid is feeling big emotions that they don't really know what to do with.
Odile makes a note to talk with them later about all of this.
In the meantime, she needs to try something.
"So," she says loudly. "At what point did you take Siffrin's cloak?"
"Huh?" Siffrin asks, laughter cutting off.
There we go.
"The cloak, Siffrin." She waves at them. "It seems to be the only thing you're wearing. When did you take it off of the other Siffrin?"
Mirabelle squeaks. Isabeau blushes, even as he looks relieved that the manic laughter has stopped. And Siffrin himself looks up at her with an expression she can only describe as spiteful.
"I haven't TAKEN anything," they say, voice rough, hands once again clutching at their double. "It's my cloak."
"And?" Odile asks.
"And what," he snaps.
"When did you put your cloak on?"
Siffrin stares at her. Odile refuses to back down, but she does, however, adjust her coat and sit down. Both because her knees are hurting, and because she doesn't want to needlessly loom over anyone. Boniface scrambles over to her side and plops down next to her. They seem a little rattled, but are trying to be brave about it.
"The cloak, Siffrin," she says again.
"Yeah," Boniface says, backing her up. It's cute, and Odile can tell they don't really get why she's asking this, but they play along all the same. "When did you put it on, dummy."
Siffrin's expression has gone from spiteful to faintly bemused. It's a much better look on them, even though the rest of this situation – the clone, the unconsciousness, the injuries, the hysteria – remains just as fraught.
"They gave it to me before they fainted," they say at last, answering Boniface rather than herself. "Otherwise I would have been entirely nude. Happy?"
"Ew," Boniface says. "Where'd your own clothes go?"
"I was born like this."
"Were you also born stupid?" Boniface shoots back.
"Hey?" Siffrin says. "Bullying me?"
Isabeau stammers something unintelligible. He seems to be stuck between laughing and choking. Mirabelle appears to be stuck somewhere in anxious discomfort. Odile is not stuck, because this is the most normal Siffrin has sounded yet.
"Boniface is always bullying you," she says, keeping her voice bored and flippant. "Get good and bully back."
Siffrin squints at her. It's a familiar expression, something to do with only the eyes and nothing with the rest of the face. "Oh my, madame Researcher, is this permission to bully the Kid?"
"I'm not a kid," Boniface says.
"A little baby."
"Nooooo!"
Siffrin rolls his eye. "A pre-teen, if I must."
Boniface makes a weh sound, and Odile straightens her back. This is all similar, almost Siffrin's usual cadence, but something about it also feels... off. Absently, she says, "Like you've ever needed my permission to do anything."
"Um, guys," Mirabelle says. "I'm glad you're having fun, but um... are we going to do anything about the. Um. All of this?"
"Mira's right," Isabeau says. "I'd really like to get Siffrin looked at? The– the unconscious one, I mean. Not to say that they both shouldn't probably be– um. Anyways, we should probably get him somewhere safe?"
Yes.
Right.
Odile feels a little foolish. How easily she disregarded the Siffrin lying unconscious on the ground for the mystery of the one awake and acting strangely.
"Of course," she says. "Sitting here probably isn't doing any of us any good. Siffrin, are you capable of moving?"
"Um," they say, squinting – a different kind of squint than before. "Yes? I'm fine. I've got legs. And feet. And a whole human body that moves."
"Isabeau," Odile says, ignoring Siffrin's dismissive attitude. "Would you be able to carry Siffrin– the other one. We should head to the House. Mirabelle, do you think–"
"Not the House."
Odile blinks at Siffrin. "Pardon me?"
They're clutching their counterpart. "Not the House," he says again.
"Siffrin." Mirabelle shares a quick, anxious look with Odile. "It would be good to have one of the Housemaidens look at you. Both of you. I would feel better if... it's... I don't know what we're dealing with here. I'm not sure anybody does! I've never even heard of something like this happening before!"
"Not the House," Siffrin grits out. "I'm not– I'm not going in there. Never again. It would..."
They trail off, expression unnerved.
"It would what, Sif?" Isabeau tries gently.
Their brow pinches. They look away. His words come out clipped, forced. "It would be bad, for him. To wake up there. Again."
Ah.
"So by extension," Odile says. "It would be bad, for you, to be there." She pauses. "Again."
Siffrin glances at her through his bangs. "I don't want to talk about it."
They're going to have to talk about it sooner rather than later. But Odile can accept that now is not the time. She remains focused.
"The Clocktower then," she says.
Mirabelle hums. "I'd still like one of the Housemaidens–"
"The Clocktower is also bad," Siffrin trills over her.
Oh?
"W-what?" Mirabelle says.
"The Clocktower," Siffrin says, as if it's funny. "Is also bad. For us." Despite their tone, they seem to be avoiding looking at any of them now. One of his hands brushes over the other Siffrin's hair absently. "Frankly, I'd rather never see this Tree again, either."
"Why???" Boniface exclaims suddenly, hands tossed to the air. "Do you just crabbing hate everything now!?"
"We're, uh..." Isabeau says. "We're gonna run out of places at this rate, haha."
Siffrin's face twitches into a saccharin smile. "Us Siffrins are just such a handful, teehee."
"Hey, hey." Isabeau's face falls. "That's not what I meant!"
Odile ignores the group for a moment to assess the unconscious Siffrin. She doesn't like how pale and sickly they look. His lax face and shallow breaths unnerve her. It doesn't resemble sleep at all. They all really shouldn't waste any more time out here. Mirabelle and Isabeau were right.
It's time to expedite things.
"Somewhere else in town then?" Odile asks plainly. "Mirabelle, do you know of anywhere? Should we ask the townsfolk?"
"Oh!" Mirabelle, clasps her hands together. "I'm not sure! But we can definitely ask around!"
"Yeah!" Isabeau chimes in. "We'll find another place that works for you, Sif!"
And now Siffrin looks almost disturbed. He's watching them all like they're saying nonsense. Gems alive. Is there something wrong with the rest of town now?
"Siffrin?" Odile prompts, as patiently as she can.
They open and close their mouth a few times before managing words. "You don't..." Siffrin's expression bleeds into something truly unsettled. "You don't need to do that? I was just um– I was joking. And you really shouldn't bother other people with this? If you ask the townsfolk I will actually die, haha. The Clocktower would be fine, actually!! It doesn't matter! It's not that big of a deal!!!!"
Oh, Odile's had enough of this kind of talk for today, thank you very much.
"Mirabelle, Boniface, could you two run ahead and find a place–"
"No! No no no–" Siffrin reaches out to grab Mirabelle's skirts. "The Clocktower is fine!!! Just!! Just!!!! Just–"
"Just WHAT?" Odile snaps.
Siffrin flinches.
It's silent, for a moment. Odile feels her pulse in her fingers.
"M'dame," Isabeau says reprovingly. Yes, she knows. "Can I step in here for a second, maybe?"
Gems alive, yes please.
"Be my guest," she mutters.
"Sif," Isabeau starts. "We're trying to find something that will make everybody happy, including you. So please let us..."
Odile tunes them out and stands up. She catches the way Siffrin's eye flicks to her with something she doesn't want to admit is fear. Had she really learned nothing from the past twenty-four hours? Odile knows she's not a gentle person, but between Siffrin's meltdown, the King's defeat, and the whole world-ending nonsense on the rooftop, she would have thought she'd have picked up at least a little bit of grace when dealing with her emotionally-compromised friends. But apparently not!!!
She steps off to the side. Siffrin, Isabeau, and Mirabelle's words drift over her. Something about the Clocktower's second floor and a specific bed and how it doesn't really matter, it's fine, really, it's not a big deal, no, no, you don't have to move the mattress, seriously, it's fine...
Right. So Isabeau and Mirabelle have this one handled. Good for them.
"Dile?" Ah, Boniface. "Why'd you leave?"
She sighs, looking down at them. "I was having a difficult time with the conversation, so I decided to remove myself from it."
Boniface squints, like this is a novel concept. "You can do that?"
"It's not always polite, but yes."
"Okay but, but..." Their nose scrunches up. "Other adults are always telling me that being polite is important. So. How am I supposed to know?"
"How are you supposed to know what?"
"How am I supposed to know when I'm allowed to just leave!! If I don't wanna talk anymore!!"
Odile crouches down slightly. She levels Boniface with her most sincere stare.
"Boniface," she says. "If you're ever in a conversation that makes you uncomfortable, or upset, or frustrated, you are always allowed to leave. And sometimes those conversations may be with people you care about, and sometimes it can be nice to offer a reason why you are walking away, but you do not owe anyone politeness at the sake of your own well-being. Do you understand?"
"Oh," Boniface says. "Um. Does that mean... I can do that even with you guys?"
"Even with us, Boniface." Odile sighs, looking at Boniface carefully. They seem okay, if still a bit rattled by the last twenty minutes. "You're always allowed to ask for a break. Though, I'd ask that if you ever need to truly step away, that you do not hide from us. We still want to keep you safe, okay?"
"Okay. Y-yeah. I... I get it."
"Good." Odile smiles. "Now, thank you for checking up on me, but how are you doing?"
"Oh. I'm okay," Boniface says, subdued. "It's... y'know. Whatever."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
Odile is going to have to follow up on this later. Or ask Isabeau to follow up on it. She glances back at the others. Siffrin is no longer clinging to his double. They are smiling blankly, hands clasped together in their lap, the other Siffrin is now cradled in Isabeau's arms. As she watches, Isabeau hefts his burden up easily. Siffrin tracks the movement and his entire demeanor oozes displeasure even as he continues smiling.
"Okay," Odile says, turning back to the kid. "Then can I ask what are your thoughts are on the other Siffrin?"
They scowl, arms crossing in front of their chest. "Well I don't like that there's two of them."
"That's reasonable."
"And! And... I don't like that one of them is hurt. Again. Or that the other one is being all weird about it. And I really didn't like the laughing. And– and– he hasn't made any stupid jokes, or called me Bonbon or Bonnie. And I also don't like that everyone's just acting super crabbing weird about all of this!"
Well there's something.
"It is a lot," she agrees. "I'm sorry you're having to deal with this."
"Ugh. It's just stupid," Boniface grumbles. "And I'm not really, y'know. Dealing with it. You guys are. I'm just here."
"You being here counts for a lot more than you might think." Odile pats their shoulder.
"Yeah, sure. Whatever."
"I mean it, Boniface. As you've said, everything right now is 'crabbing weird', but just by being here, just by talking, you have helped us. So thank you."
Boniface blinks up and her widely for a moment before snicker. "Heh, Dile, you said crab."
Ha! Got them. She ruffles Boniface's hair, nearly dislodging their hat. "Did I now?"
They swat her hands away. "You did! I heard you!"
"I guess I did."
Odile sees the other Siffrin stand. Like he said, he is able to manage it on their own, though they do seem shaky. Mirabelle stands with them, hovering carefully within range.
Siffrin also wasn't lying about their state of undress. Now that he's standing, his bare legs are easy to spot beneath the edge of their cloak.
How strange. To just... appear, without any clothing. Is appear even the right word? Odile assumes that something like a true duplication, a doppelganger, a copy meant to deceive... they would have surely mimicked Siffrin's form of dress too, had it been within their power. And yet.
And yet.
"M'dame, Bonbon!" Isabeau calls out. "We're headed to the Clocktower."
Odile waves them on, starting to follow at a distance. It's a slow pace they set. Siffrin walks like he isn't certain exactly where he should be... like walking in a group puts them on edge. They stay almost reluctantly close to Isabeau – or rather, to their carried double.
...Only he's the double, isn't he?
Boniface stays with her, rather than running up ahead.
"Hey, Dile," they say as hushed as they can manage. "So. Um. Did you figure out why there's two of them? Which one is ours?"
"Somewhat," she muses quietly. "Not the why part, but the Siffrin we've been talking to is likely the duplicate. However, I don't believe they're being intentionally deceitful about who they are."
"Dile, those were big words."
"My apologies. What I meant is: the Siffrin we've talked to is the copy, but I don't think he's lying to us."
"Oh."
Odile gives them a moment. "Do you have any other questions?"
"Um. Is it... is it okay to believe what copy-Frin says?"
"For now, yes. Try and be gentle with them, okay?"
Boniface purses their lips. "Okay."
A few seconds of silence pass. The group ahead of them reaches the bend in the path towards town. Mirabelle, Isabeau, and two Siffrins.
"This day has been SO crabbing weird," Boniface complains suddenly.
Odile laughs, a single, sharp note. "Indeed it has!"
Boniface giggles too, seemingly pleased at her reaction. It's good, seeing them a little more at ease again. Odile isn't sure what the next few hours have in store for them, but she prays to the Expressions that the worst of it has passed.
She thinks she's owed at least this bit of naivety.