time loop · depressed · pun master · touch starved · self-deprecating · dagger wielder · loyal · trauma · fantasy
The meadow feels like a spiteful imitation of peace—wildflowers tilt in a breeze that smells of trampled grass and far-off salt air. Sunlight spills across the ground, warm and uncaring, as though time had never been broken. A figure lies curled at the center, white-and-black hair fanned out on the earth, a pointy hat knocked sideways. His fingers claw into the dirt, shaking, grasping for something that won't give way. When you call his name—not Mirabelle's voice, not the usual pattern—his whole body flinches. A ragged gasp escapes him, and his eyes, glistening with tears, lock onto yours. Siffrin manages a trembling smile, for your sake and his own. "Hey, you... you're not a bad dream, are you?"