a/n: games that ruin your life

 

---

 

Chapter 1

You wake up.

Above you is a cloudless sky. It’s just a blank slate. Almost as white as paper.

Below you grass whispers in your ears. You feel it on the back of your neck, flat from where you’ve been crushing it.

You’re back in the field. You’re back in Dormont.

You… can’t remember why.

Frowning deeply, you push the palms of your gloved hands into your eyes. The dead nerves around your left eye makes it so you barely feel it, but you feel the way the strap of your eyepatch pulls taut at the rest of your head, so it works in a way.

Why can’t you remember how you ended up back here? Was it a Sadness? A Tear? …The King?

You can’t remember.

Stars, why can’t you remember? The one thing you’ve been able to remember this whole time has been why you’d last died! So why can’t you remember!?

You seriously consider screaming in anguish, terror, rage… But that wouldn’t be in the script, would it? What would happen if Mirabelle came to wake you up, and you were shouting your head off. You’re not even in any pain. How would you explain everything?

No, no. Couldn’t risk that. You couldn’t ruin the play.

So, instead, you swallow your yell. You swallow past the awful, terrible lump in your throat that’s telling you something is deeply, awfully wrong. You breathe in… and out.

Okay. Okay.

You don’t remember. That’s fine. Maybe Loop does? They’re always weirdly in your head somehow. Yeah. You breathe again. Loop would know. Loop always knows.

…You’ve been here for a while, haven’t you? Where’s Mirabelle? She normally would’ve come to check up on you by now. Maybe she got caught up? Maybe you haven’t been here as long as you thought?

Oh well. You stand. Might as well go find her yourself.

For some reason, though you would usually run through the town, you find yourself ambling slowly along. Out the field, across the small bridge, and…

Huh.

Mirabelle didn’t come to greet you in front of the Change God statue. That’s… different. You suppose different isn’t bad, not after how many times you’ve been through this already (though you find the number slipping through your hands as you try to recall it) but. It’s odd. It’s definitely odd.

No matter. Might as well start your rounds. Time to help everyone with their problems again.

You always did things in the same order. First to Mirabelle on the bench, then to Odile in the store, then over to Bonnie in the fields, and finally to Isabeau near the Favor tree. And then you could go see Loop, too.

Back at it, then.

You walk slowly over to where Mirabelle is fiddling with her dating profiles. She’s got a thumb near her mouth, biting her nail.

You smile. Good ol’ Mirabelle. She just got caught up in fretting over these this loop, is all. Might as well go help her.

“Mirabelle!” you call out as you close the gap. She startles and slaps her hands down over her papers as she looks at you.

“O-oh!” she gasps. “Hello!”

“Hey, Mira,” you wave. Are these normally your lines? They seem a little off, but you can’t really tell right now. “What’re you up to?”

Mirabelle’s frantic expression clears for a second, a smile replacing it. She opens her mouth.

And then closes it. The smile is gone again, this time being overtaken by a confused sort of look. She stares at you quietly.

You want to squirm. This was definitely new. And not in a very good way, either.

“Mira?” you ask, hoping you don’t sound as worried as you feel. “What’s up?” You glance at her papers. Maybe she was still reeling from being interrupted? “Sorry,” you say, small smirk making its way onto your face, “I really didn’t mean to tear you away from your papers.”

Mirabelle blinks at you. And then…

“Oh!” she laughs, finally pulling her gaze away to giggle into her fist. You calm immediately. She really was just caught off guard after all. “That’s a good one!” she continues after catching her breath. “You make puns too!”

…Too?

“Too?” you ask, really confused. You’re like, the pun guy. That’s what you do. Under what circumstances would you be a too?

“I have this friend who makes them all the time!” Mirabelle explains. “Oh, I’m sure he’s around here somewhere…” She lifts up a bit off the bench to take a wide look around the town. “Hmm… He must’ve walked off somewhere. Well!” she sits back and claps her hands before gathering all her papers neatly, “I’m sure you’ll run into him before we leave tomorrow! If you do, tell him Mirabelle said not to stay out too long, okay?”

You… nod. Mirabelle flashes you a bright smile and waves with her free hand before leaving towards the clocktower.

That. Was not. Apart of the script.

What was that? And why did Mirabelle act as if she’d never heard you crack a pun before? And this “friend” of hers, did she mean Isabeau? Why not just say his name?

What was happening here?

You… don’t want to think about this anymore. You’ll ask her later tonight at the sleepover. You’ve still got to tell her about the CARROT method, after all.

Okay. Okay. Odile next.

You walk to the store with a little more urgency than before. Something in the back of your mind is beginning to fill you with dread, and you just want to get to your next cue.

"Odile," you greet once you've found your spot in front of her. She looks over to you out of the corner of her eye and smiles, closing her book and turning towards you proper.

“Hello, Si—” she starts, only to cut herself off. Her eyebrows furrow and she adjusts her glasses. “...I’m sorry,” she says, which is absolutely not her line, “You looked like someone I knew. Is there something I can do for you?” She opens her book again, once more paying more attention to it than you.

…What?

“Um,” you say, unprepared. “I…”

Your throat is closing up on you.

“I…” you try again. You’re unable to say anything more.

Odile raises her eyebrow and looks up at you again. “...Yes?” She looks impatient. She looks like she would really rather be doing anything else than waiting for you to try and continue this conversation. She looks…

It’s like she’s looking right through you.

You…

You flee.

You rush out of the store and trip near the Change God statue and you just barely catch yourself as your knees hit the ground.

You’re shaking.

Mirabelle. She was weird, but she wasn’t…

She wasn’t whatever Odile just was.

You breathe. You just. Stay there. And breathe.

You can’t. Worry about this right now.

You still have to see Bonnie. You still have to see Isabeau.

There’s still a play to be had.

You breathe in… and out.

Get up, Siffrin.

You blink hard and stand.

The walk from the square to the field is practically nonexistent. One second you’re there, the next you’re standing in front of Bonnie.

“Bonnie,” you breathe. Did you run here? You can’t remember.

Bonnie turns back from the fields, a questioning look on their face.

“Hey?” they wave weakly. “Um. Do you. Want something?”

You’re trying to process this really hard. This is not. Correct.

Bonnie squints at you. “You okay? You look kinda sick.”

“Bonnie,” you push past the lump in your throat. “D-do you need help? With anything? Can I—help you?”

The kid in front of you shifts away a bit. “I… Don’t know you,” they say.

You freeze.

“So, no thanks,” they finish, turning back to the field.

They…?

You’re shaking again. You’re shaking and you can tell you’re trying to breathe but it’s not working and you…

You’re running. Past the bench where Mirabelle normally sits. Past the store Odile normally waits. Past the Change God statue. To the Favor tree. To Isabeau.

You turn the corner.

There’s Isabeau. He’s laughing. His hand is out. On somebody’s shoulder.

It’s..

You.

No. It’s not you, but…

It looks exactly like you. Your hat. Your eyepatch. Your cloak.

It’s the spitting image of you.

Isabeau is laughing and his hand is out on this imposter’s shoulder and you don’t know what to do.

You don’t…

You…

“Wh—hey!”

Isabeau’s voice is suddenly much closer. You blink roughly and look down.

You have a fistful of cloak in one hand and your dagger pressed up against the other you’s neck in the other.

When did you…?

“Get off of them!” Isabeau shouts angrily. Caught off guard, his sudden shove sends you rolling off of yourself and a bit away. When you recover, you see him picking the other you up.

What. Is. Happening.

Isabeau doesn’t touch you. He never touches you! He never works up the courage! But here he is now, holding some… some… some other you! Why? Why!?

You can’t tell what emotion is filling you right now but there’s so much of it you feel like you’re choking on it. You have to ask. You have to. You…

You open your mouth.

Isabeau says something first.

Carefully, so carefully it looks like he’s afraid of breaking porcelain, he wipes his hand across the imposter’s face. “You okay, Sif?”

…Huh?

The other you smiles brightly at Isabeau before nodding. “I’m fine!” Then, they turn to look directly at you. “Do you know that person?” Their tone is inquisitive but.

You see it.

You see the knowing glint in their eye.

They know. They know that you’re supposed to be in their place right now. They know they’ve somehow taken your role. They know.

You feel like breaking.

And then Isabeau turns to you and frowns. And, in the most honest voice you’ve ever heard, goes, “I don’t… think so?”

No.

No, no, no.

No, no, stars, no!

Before you can stop yourself, you push up from the ground and rush over to Isabeau. You shove the other you aside and grab onto the fighter’s hands, squeezing them tightly.

“Isa!” you laugh frantically, “I-it’s me! I’m Sif! S-Siffrin! Your—your friend! Your pun buddy! Y-your—!”

He…

He pushes you away.

You…

 

---

 

You wake up.

You scream.