#muse made

Isabeau tried to settle into his and Siffrin’s tent once night came, he really did! But it was easier said than done, especially with so much to think about.

Funny how something that had become as mundane as a Sadness attack could throw everything into chaos! Bonnie was taking it the worst of all of them, not at all helped that no one had answers. What was Siffrin? Would he be okay? When was he going to start moving again? Was he going to start moving again? Why didn’t he have a pulse? Did that mean he was dead? Had he ever been alive? All great questions that no one had answers for. The best anyone could think to do was try to keep them from looking at…

The body? The doll? Siffrin? No one could quite decide how to refer to the still and silent form that usually housed their friend.

Odile wanted to inspect it, but she conceded to waiting until Siffrin could consent. Whether he ended up having anything to look at or was literally built like a child’s doll, whether he was aware and unable to respond or completely unconscious, it was still messed up to strip someone and look at their body when they couldn’t say no—at least outside of medical emergencies, but even if this counted as one, they had no idea what they were doing so that was senseless.

Mirabelle seemed to be taking it the best, shockingly? Apparently she loved books like this! Which was great! At least one of them should be able to help, and he’s glad that someone actually held Siffrin’s hand as… whatever happened to him happened.

Isabeau still didn’t really understand. The best he could do was stop Bonnie and Odile from staring and obsessing over Siffrin’s form…

And now, as he rolled over to look at the little body tucked into a sleeping bag, he couldn’t help but feel like a hypocrite. Why did he ever think this was a good idea? Was this even okay? Sure, they did it every night, and it wasn’t like he was doing anything—they weren’t even sharing a sleeping bag! But it still felt weirdly violating. His hands still felt cold from tucking Siffrin in, from having to be ever-so-careful with joints that suddenly seemed so fragile and arms make of something more brittle than flesh. The idea of accidentally breaking him was terrifying—what if that pushed him over some unseen edge and he couldn’t fix it this time? Could Siffrin spill out of himself like pouring water from a glass?—but what was worse was just…

Doing it.

Moving Siffrin’s body for him. Forcing it to bend and pose, even if it was just to keep him safe and, hopefully, comfortable.

Even worse, he could imagine an appeal to it, in another context. What little bits he saw of Siffrin’s body were inhumanly pretty. Pearly, smooth not-skin, slender proportions, an impressive amount of articulation with joints that Isabeau, at least, found strangely appealing, and even without the subtle glow his hair usually had, it was so soft. He understood why Siffrin would feel a need to hide it, but it seemed a shame…

His stomach curled and he turned away. There was something wrong with him, admiring the craftsmanship while Siffrin was unconscious because he got his head shattered.

Any growing heat in him was quashed. That was for the best.

…

What was he even doing? Should he be in here? Or would it be weirder to leave him? How many times had they shared a tent or been back to back on a bed with no more than a pillow or some sheets between them—Siffrin didn’t like being touched, another thing to make this situation worse. He was basically just sleeping, right? Hopefully? This shouldn’t have been any weirder than every other time they shared a tent, but…

“… hey. Sif. Siffrin. Sifarooni? Um… I don’t know if you can hear me at all, or if you’re awake or asleep. Do you sleep? Or have you just been pretending this whole time? I, uh… hope not. That’d get really boring…”

What was he even doing?

“But, uh… I hope you didn’t mind me tucking you in. I just want you to be comfortable, and we couldn’t just leave you kneeling in the field! So I hope? This is? Okay?”

…

“Sorry. I’m being weird. And, uh, I know you can’t really talk back right now. If you can hear me. At all???”

He shifted back over to look at them, to stare at the back of their head. Even in the dark of night, he could make out the darkless shades, though not half as well as usual.

“… Sorry. I’m being weird. Don’t worry about it. Just know that I still care, okay?” He paused, then sighed. There’d be no answers tonight. “Sleep well, Siffrin. See you in the morning, hopefully.”

———

None of them saw it coming until it was already upon Bonnie. Everyone rushed forward, but Siffrin was always both the fastest and most observant. By the time everyone else noticed, he was already pushing Bonnie aside.

The Sadness struck, swinging its fist out in a devastating rock-type attack. Time seemed to slow down entirely independent of any craft as it hit Siffrin directly in the face. The sound of something shattering broke the air, allowing one moment of silence right after before everyone started to scream.

Siffrin fell to his knees, remaining eye glassy in shock. Half his face was gone! It was shattered, the shards littering the ground. Mirabelle barely dared look, but…

He…

Wasn’t bleeding?

There was nothing inside…

No. That wasn’t quite accurate. There was something there, a strange light in an even stranger shade. It made her head hurt just looking at it. Ice froze her veins as all of her just stopped. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she’d been frozen in time, but her heart was hammering too much.

So why couldn’t she move?!

Odile was already dispatching the Sadness, Isabeau scooping up Bonnie and running, while Siffrin- Siffrin…

Siffrin got up and started picking up the pieces of his own head, putting each back into place and sealing it with a strange craft sign and a flare of that light inside his skull.

The Sadness was gone quickly. It wasn’t even that strong, apparently. They didn’t even need her! Which left all eyes to be on Siffrin.

“Sif… Siffrin? Buddy? Are you okay? Your-your face…” Isabeau said.

“Hmm? Don’t worry about it, just gonna need a minute to pick up the pieces,” he said. He was smiling, somehow, but it looked oddly transparent.

“Oh. Okay.” Isabeau said. Because what else was there to say?

Numbly, Mirabelle forced herself forward, helping pick shards of… what was this? Porcelain? Stone? Pottery? No. Siffrin, shards of Siffrin. She was helping pick shards of Siffrin from the grass, handing them to him.

“Thanks Mira!”

“You are so calm. Your face is half gone, and you’re smiling. Gems alive, why are you so calm?!”

Siffrin just shrugged. Already the light was sealing up the spiderweb cracks that had covered his visage, bits of it flaring as he picked piece by piece of himself and slotted them back into place with supernatural ease.

But even as he rebuilt his face, parts of it… faded? No, that wasn’t right. Flattened, perhaps? It was hard to pinpoint what, exactly, had changed, but something had. It stared straight ahead, glassy and unseeing like a doll’s. His mouth seemed mostly translucent save for a bit of a line in the middle, and his ever-bright hair lost some of its luster—had it been glowing this whole time without them noticing?

The last pieces slotted into place with more of that unearthly glow. His movements were off as he lowered his arms, taking a bit too long in some places until falling abruptly like a puppet with cut strings. “There!” His mouth didn’t move as he spoke, and his voice sounded strangely far away. “See? It’s okay Bonnie, everyone. All fixed.”

Was it?

“Fr-Frin? What…?” Bonnie—she’d forgotten about Bonnie!—was staring in horror at him, tears wet against their face. They held tight to Isabeau, trying to hide from him. “Get-Get away!”

“Sif? Buddy? I’m glad you’re okay, but…?” Isabeau, ever-reliable, brave Isabeau, had eyes as wide as a rabbit’s, his smile one of panic.

Odile didn’t say anything, just watching with calculating eyes.

“It’s okay Bonnie! It is!” Siffrin said in that far-off, wind-whispery voice of his. In unsteady movements, he half-collapsed into a kneeling position and held a hand out. “It’s me. It’s me. It’s okay!” His head turned to all of them, expression still frozen, but the air crackling with something cold. “Guys? Anyone?”

Mirabelle closed the gap, kneeling on the grass and taking his hand. “I believe you. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Mirabelle…” The relief was apparent in his voice. Gloved fingers tightened around hers. “I’m okay. I’m…” His voice was giving out too, barely audible. “Tired… and sorry. I’ll be back…” He trailed off.

Mirabelle wasn’t sure what she expected. For him to collapse? For his face to disappear? For him to let go? None of that occurred. No, he simply trailed off and didn’t move again, frozen holding her hand. This was worse, actually! Not moving, not breathing, no change in expression, nothing! Just a cessation of movement as whatever spark was still there dulled. Her heart was speeding, nausea gripping her stomach.

He wasn’t frozen in time, right? It wasn’t the same, not at all. Just to prove it to herself, she pried his fingers off of hers. There was a bit of resistance, but they moved easily.

…

She had to know, had to see. It was an invasion of privacy. Wrong to do to someone, to anyone, especially a friend who was apparently catatonic. But they were all thinking it, and it’s not like she was going to strip him entirely. What was he? Was he human at all? She didn’t need to see much, just something. Mirabelle slipped the glove off, turning his hand. Intricate joints were visible across the darkless material. It was made of the same stuff as his face, though she couldn’t quite place it. It was smooth, whatever it was, but not as much as porcelain. Smooth and cold. Lifeless.

She’d always assumed she’d find it cool to discover someone close to her wasn’t quite human! And she was right, this was at least in the top five of interesting things that had happened to her—a list that was far more prestigious these days—but suddenly she could also understand all those characters who had a pit in their stomach and a feeling of betrayal. Why had he felt the need to hide this? Then again, who would tell it willingly?

A warm, sturdy hand rested on her shoulder, pulling her gently from her thoughts. “We should leave him be for now. Or I guess try to get him somewhere safe.”

Mirabelle nodded, slipping his glove back on. There was a lot to deal with, but Isabeau was right, this wasn’t the place to do it. They could sort through this after making sure he was somewhere that he wouldn’t get hurt again.

———