[Siffrin knows this place. That just makes it worse, honestly.
And while the deja vu of it all is terrible enough – he never escaped, it was all a dream, he's back here again – it's not even the exact same peaceful setting he's used to, because everything's wrong. Everyone is faceless and no one will look at him, like he doesn't exist at all. Like he's been forgotten before their minds can even acknowledge him. And he's not stupid, he knows there will be no comfort for him here, that seeking it out will only hurt more, but he still makes a beeline for that one bench.
It doesn't matter if she's faceless. It wouldn't matter if there was another actor playing her entirely, an entirely different body and different clothes and everything. Siffrin knows this scene. He knows the young woman who's always sitting on that bench, rifling through papers that make her anxious in an attempt to stave off anxiety about even bigger things. She's here, and they miss her so dearly, and they
can't even look at her.
He could cry. Maybe he already is and he just can't feel it in the numbness that's washed over him. All he can feel is the sense that she's not his, the certainty that it would be the same even if he ran to see any of the others, the fear he might walk away to try anyway and find no one at all and then she'd be gone too and he'd have nothing and no one–
They should be his. They are, he knows that now, which just makes the inability to even look at them worse.
It feels like he's not supposed to approach. Even looking at her hurts. But the idea of just giving up hurts even more. Siffrin pushes through whatever dream force wants to keep them away – it feels like struggling against the Wish to grasp at details of his home, but at least he has experience with that now. He can get as far as standing right next to her, but trying to look is still too agonizing. The Universe itself screeches in their ears, scolding them for even daring to try. He wants to keep trying anyway.
Eventually, it hurts too much, and they settle for sitting down beside her. It's his spot, the place he always sat every time he helped her with her problems and the last time when he ruined everything. She doesn't talk to him about the bonding papers this time, doesn't even acknowledge him, but he clings to this little sliver of something. Leans slightly into her despite the sharp pain it sends ringing through his ears. He feels disgusting, taking even this little but from her without her being able to consent to it–
They stay like that for a long while.
Eventually, the thought occurs that Loop was here, at least, in this strange otherworldly dream. Maybe Loop at least would be different. He knows exactly where he'd have to go to find them, but the idea of getting up and leaving Mirabelle's side to go check the Favor Tree hurts more than continuing to sit here. Lethargically, he lifts a hand to the side of his face and makes that stupid nonsensical secret hand sign and tries to focus on how much he'd like to talk to Loop, to anyone.]
dormont time baby let's fucking suffer
And while the deja vu of it all is terrible enough – he never escaped, it was all a dream, he's back here again – it's not even the exact same peaceful setting he's used to, because everything's wrong. Everyone is faceless and no one will look at him, like he doesn't exist at all. Like he's been forgotten before their minds can even acknowledge him. And he's not stupid, he knows there will be no comfort for him here, that seeking it out will only hurt more, but he still makes a beeline for that one bench.
It doesn't matter if she's faceless. It wouldn't matter if there was another actor playing her entirely, an entirely different body and different clothes and everything. Siffrin knows this scene. He knows the young woman who's always sitting on that bench, rifling through papers that make her anxious in an attempt to stave off anxiety about even bigger things. She's here, and they miss her so dearly, and they
can't even look at her.
He could cry. Maybe he already is and he just can't feel it in the numbness that's washed over him. All he can feel is the sense that she's not his, the certainty that it would be the same even if he ran to see any of the others, the fear he might walk away to try anyway and find no one at all and then she'd be gone too and he'd have nothing and no one–
They should be his. They are, he knows that now, which just makes the inability to even look at them worse.
It feels like he's not supposed to approach. Even looking at her hurts. But the idea of just giving up hurts even more. Siffrin pushes through whatever dream force wants to keep them away – it feels like struggling against the Wish to grasp at details of his home, but at least he has experience with that now. He can get as far as standing right next to her, but trying to look is still too agonizing. The Universe itself screeches in their ears, scolding them for even daring to try. He wants to keep trying anyway.
Eventually, it hurts too much, and they settle for sitting down beside her. It's his spot, the place he always sat every time he helped her with her problems and the last time when he ruined everything. She doesn't talk to him about the bonding papers this time, doesn't even acknowledge him, but he clings to this little sliver of something. Leans slightly into her despite the sharp pain it sends ringing through his ears. He feels disgusting, taking even this little but from her without her being able to consent to it–
They stay like that for a long while.
Eventually, the thought occurs that Loop was here, at least, in this strange otherworldly dream. Maybe Loop at least would be different. He knows exactly where he'd have to go to find them, but the idea of getting up and leaving Mirabelle's side to go check the Favor Tree hurts more than continuing to sit here. Lethargically, he lifts a hand to the side of his face and makes that stupid nonsensical secret hand sign and tries to focus on how much he'd like to talk to Loop, to anyone.]
[Are you there?]