#sponstar : 001.

[impinged]

Your hand is free. You hold your knife close. Cradle it. It hovers hauntingly close to your neck. An easy swipe... You could still get what you want. Loop doesn't care enough to stop you now, only deflecting and turning you away. That's fine too. You can always do this in private. If you wanted to. If the feeling remains.

No need to cause a scene, you've already shouted at each other enough for that.

You stare at your hand. The way the split finger of your glove dangles against a wetted mess of fabric. You cannot see the shade that you know currently stains your skin. You know of it. But you don't see it. You glance up at Loop. Can they see it? Ah, well. It doesn't matter.

Another idea crosses your mind.

Nothing’s stopping you. They can’t see. You could lunge now. Plant the knife in their back. The perfect betrayal. A real show-stopper.

…………But why would you do that? Seems an awful waste. Silly Siffrin. The intrusive thoughts are getting in the way of your suicide again~!

It would be satisfying though. But your knife suits your stomach, your throat, your heart far better than it does Loop’s back. That’s just a fact.

Besides, Loop has been so gracious as to finally let you leave. They don’t want a thing to do with you! Far from you to complain, you wanted this the second you laid your eye on them. So you’re happy to oblige.

“Good.” One more sneer at their back before you turn and leave them to fester in whatever anger has taken hold of them. “You won’t.”

You don’t have anything else to talk about. Whenever that happened, you’d always leave. Habits die hard. You die harder.

You make good on your word, and leave.

they're aware of it. disgustingly so.

that deep shade that traverses the length of his finger, dips through the creases in their hand. soaked into the glove. it came so easily to him. too easily. they hated just how simple siffrin made it seem, how much it no longer mattered to them. stars, why should it?

did the thought of pushing the traveler's arm not just cross the stars mind? how they could so readily shift this in their favor, take the credit for the inevitable plunge! siffrin didn't deserve all the satisfaction of it. they've done so plenty, haven't they. again, and again. an easy way back, a simple trigger for the loops.

a readily available means of backing out. what a terrible idea. loop disagreed from the start, but that didn't matter. none of what they said ever seemed to matter!

. . . just one push. . .

. . . quick, simple . . .

. . . take it, take it, take it . . .

' . . . . . . ' an exhale, then, they let go.

arm jerked back, as if stabbed themselves. their hand remains rigid as it's drawn back, brought to rest within its opposite. a thumb pressed against their palm; pushing, prodding away the feeling left behind.

loop manages a step back. then another before they shift, turned away. they didn't want to see him anymore. didn't want to listen to the impulses that sat with them so readily. regardless of how strongly they wished to listen, how they yearned to erase that which was in the way. that which was all they had. . . ha.

. . . hahaha! hahahahahahahahahahaha!!

aah. not anymore!

' . . . then, go. ' a pause, ' i don't want to see you. '

[viladlind]

the view is so stunning that fiyero almost doesn't know how he missed it in the first place.

   a star come alive claps for his performance once the last note fades out. they're not the only one, but they call to attention, sat to the side as they are. something they seem to realize once a few eyes follow the sound of their voice ... fiyero pauses, muses.

   his smile is mischievous when he straps his violin to his back and pulls the rather newly acquired harp from the belt around his hips. it's not the golden harp from back home, but a wooden one he'd bought from the same maker as his violin, on this very island. it seems more soothing for the occasion, doesn't it?

   walking up to the low brick wall they're sitting on, fiyero takes a seat next to them. he's aware of the attention, but he revels in it. was made for this, really. chuckling quietly at their joke, he sets his harp on his lap and reaches out for them with his other hand. a claw drives just underneath their bright face, as though scratching their chin, only he isn't touching at all.

   ' perhaps, ' he hums, loud enough for the rest of the audience to hear. ' will you answer a question for me in return? ' his fingers dance across the strings of the harp playfully, only pleasant notes, not a proper song yet. a tease, you could say. his gaze rests on them, a genuine interest in his look.

   ' how would one go about kissing a star? '

ah. that was stupid, wasn't it? clapping along near the tail ends of a performance, wishing the sound to drown out amongst the others gathered around to see. not a problem, really! if they had been part of the crowd, that is.

but off to the side? just out of view? now there was sound in a differing direction; an indicator of someone else partaking in the show provided. orienting themselves with these streets was a headache enough, let alone adjusting to the reality of being seen -- exposed to the open like any other. no branches or leaves to obscure them.

they exist, like this. with others. stand out a fair deal, too, don't they?

oh! that's a look towards them, isn't it? look alive, loop, you've a show of your own to play out, here! just breathe, this is fine! absolutely! even if impulse got the better of them for a short-lived moment. it's fine.

' my, that was quite a performance you gave us! ' their hands sit idly tented, paused from their previous clapping. eyes crinkle upward, a smile they're failing to hide despite bubbling discomfort.

' . . . could i treble you for an encore? ' [ @viladlind ]

[impinged]

They're. Touching you. Your body twists and jerks when Loops fingers clench around your wrist. Your hold on your knife doesn't give, but your eye takes in Loop if only because they're just about all you can see now. You fight against the grip, but only amount to writhing and squirming.

They want to know the difference? Ah, well, only some of the script has been altered. Dormont was just too drab for scenery. Mira and Odile were too boring. The House far too confusing for the audience to follow. The King's motivation was too unclear, Euphrasie was simply way too repetitive. But this?

Why, this is the audience's favorite part !

"Not this part." They must have missed it in the rewrites. Not that you'd complain. You're happy to play it. And you do it so well.

Your free hand reaches out. Nothing about this dissuades you. Nothing pushes it from your mind. You're desperate. You want to remind them. You're the sponsor, Loop. Don't you like this show? Don't you think it'd be so nice if this arc ended just. Like. This ?

It's your fault, after all! Did they change their mind? Will they say they didn't mean it?? Haha. It's okay. It'll all be okay...

The longest finger on your free hand nicks the hook of your knife. The fabric of your gloves gives way so easily. Did your flesh do the same? Stars, you can hardly tell anymore. You barely feel a thing now. That hasn't changed.

Ha. Hahaha. Change. Oh, that's good. You bet they're laughing. If they can even see you here. You bet they love this! You're almost certain Mira could, or maybe you could even ask Isa to, spin this all in the way of their belief. You can practically hear the words yourself now. To change, something has to break!

Something has to fail!!

SOMETHING HAS TO ROT!!!

Well, that's not quite how that goes. Oh well. It's not like you believe in it.

Something that welled up at the tip of your finger starts to race its way down your hand. Looks like your glove is ruined. You don't really care. Maybe Isa can fix it, if he doesn't pester you as to why it tore there in the first place. You give one more futile tug against Loop.

"Stop touching me." They have a lot of nerve to do that. Could they do that the whole time? Why only now did they choose to stop you with force??? Whatever. It doesn't matter. "I want to go."

there. that sharp anger thrust at them in the form of two, simple words. it should hurt, shouldn't it? maybe it does. somewhere, below the surface of the stars front, it hurts. stings. sharp and twisted, wedged right where it should be. right where they deserved it; this hurt.

where they refused to listen before, they listened now. did as was demanded. really, it was more like they said what they wanted to, content to let everything sink in with the following silence, now. despite the pang in their chest, the words didn't mean much.

neither did the dagger that drew their eye.

a passing glance at the weapon, nothing more. loop's gaze traversing back to siffrin's wettened own. focused, unwavering. they've been through this before. this time, the star wouldn't push for the other to breathe, to calm down.

they'd watch. they'd wait. as they always did, always have.

he wouldn't lunge at them. he wouldn't draw the dagger away, nor discard it. it would remain clasped between tightened digits, locked in a desperate hold without a proper idea on how to proceed.

but they both knew, didn't they? knew there was a fourth option, an alternative that casts a frigid layer over the stars gaze.

they weren't sure when they had moved, uncertain when the first step had been taken. but it had been, siffrin appearing closer far quicker than they could process. an arm moved, then, practically snapping into place to close darkened fingers over a gloved wrist. they tighten, squeeze -- anything to see that dagger remain frozen in their hold. to watch it lightly rattle with the tremble caused by their strained hold.

' don't. you. dare. '

it wasn't funny the first time, it still wasn't now. no fairness in it, either. why should he get the means of an easy way out? where a simple rewind wasn't an option, why was something like this still allowed? still considered? still flaunted in their face?! they won't stand for it, won't allow it!

they won't, they won't, they won't they won't they won't they won't they won't they won't!!

' it's different here. is that not what you told me? so . . . why are you following the same script? w h e r e ' s t h e d i f f e r e n c e ? '

[impinged]

You can feel the static in your ears, the way the world bends around you. It wants so desperately to reset. To swell and bloat and surge. Haha. To break and fail and rot. Erase this whole conversation. Roll it back! Not that it matters. Not that Loop would forget. Not that you even can. But it still hisses in your ears, something rips at your stomach, it’s there it’s all there and so familiar and you want it. More than anything.

You want it. You don't get it. All you get is Loop's anger in return. Their reminder. It's always you. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You.

It was you then, it's you now, and it will always be you.

Haha. Hahahahahahahahahaha!!!! They’re right!!!! They’re right!!!!!!!!!! They really did it! Told it to you straight!! Can you take that? Do you accept it?? DO YOU WANT THANKS, LOOP????

You can’t cry out your dead eye. You can still feel it though, when you do cry. Nothing wells but there's a frothy spike of pain and the scars no one sees or touches ache beyond belief.

You can still see them, blurred and unfocused and bright, despite it all. They're still talking. You, you, you, you, you...

"SHUT UP!!!!!"

You blink away tears that are barely even there.

There’s a knife in your hands. Your knife. Poised, pointed. Steady, aimed for the star. You could lunge. Attack. Hurt them, like they’ve hurt you. Payback. Revenge. It would be so easy to lunge forward and just attack them…

You don’t. You can’t.

Guilt roots you to the ground. You can’t move. Figures. You’re all bark and no bite. But you do not falter. Your knife is still fixated on them. Still threatening.

You breathe in, and out.

You can’t hurt them. You don’t want to hurt them. Not really. Not even if it feels like otherwise.

Your eye, clouded and sinking, no longer stares at your target. Instead, it shifts its focus on your knife. You stare at it. You consider your options. Weigh each and every single one.

You could hurt them. (Which isn’t want you want.)

You could put it away, pretend it never happened. (It feels too late for that.)

You could drop it. They’re unarmed, so it would at least make this an even fight. (You don’t want this either.)

You could alter your hold, twist the blade and you could . . .

he doesn't need to tell them a thing. the message as clear as day, as it almost always is. by expression alone, that look in the eye, a mere twitch of a brow -- loop recognized it. knew about it.

siffrin says it isn't their fault, that he didn't do this. loop believes them, is the funny thing. they know, and yet . . . and yet!! there wasn't a means of logic they could make from it other than an obvious choice; a decision they could both agree on! putting the fault somewhere simple. somewhere it sat easily, given the history.

they'd blame themselves, too. isn't that hysterical?

' would it be so hard to believe if it was?! ' even knowing, they continued to press. they'd been angry from the start, that feeling refusing to diminish. it grew, in fact, the longer they spoke.

the longer they had to look into this blinding m--!!

' who knows what you accomplished during your last meeting with the king, despite my efforts to tell you otherwise! you ignore advice, you fumble, you fail!! '

let it go. let it go, let it go . . .! let it . . . no.

no, they're tired of holding their tongue. tired of sitting, watching and being dragged back every! single! time! they were brought here, too, with siffrin left waiting for them. all they've wanted was a way out of it all, but they would never get that, would they?

now was no different. oh, no, now was no different at all! they were still trapped! still left wanting! still left to watch any spark of joy that remained fall into the traveler's hands. . . !

' you were at fault for forcing every perfect conversation! you were at fault for failing at your job! you were at fault for allowing the king to get his hands on the kid! it was you, always YOU! why can't it be now, stardust!? '

they know it's not. they don't care. this is easier. . .

[impinged]

You open your mouth to get a word in, but they keep going. Begrudgingly, you're used to their interjections, their insistence that their word should precede yours. Whatever. They say you're somewhere you shouldn't be, well, you have eyes!!

Just one, actually.

But you know. You see. Whatever.

They've seen Isa already. Fitting, you think. When they were so determined to hide away from everyone, he was the one that still weaseled his way into their line of sight. You wonder if Loop ever saw........... Well, it doesn't matter. You don't really care about that. Push it from your mind, you have more pressing things to think about.

Like anger. You're angry. Your friends along for the ride? A mess you've tripped into?? SIMILARITIES????

It IS a coincidence!! NONE of this was intentional!!!! So what are they getting at?!? What do they mean???? Are they..?? Do they seriously think.....????

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT!!!!" Why is THAT the conclusion they make?! They think they can show up and pin the blame on you right away?!? No!! You've already done that!!!!!

You would take the blame though, wouldn't you? You can refute it to them all you want, but you would if it was anyone else accusing you. Something about it being Loop that does just eats at you. You can't stand it. Lots of things are your fault, sure. Some intended, some otherwise. This is not. You don't know a lot about this place or how people even get here, but you know it's not your fault. It can't be. It shouldn't be.

It . . . it isn't . . . . . . r i g h t ?

...No. That would be ridiculous. It wasn't that broken. Wishcraft wouldn't just... No. It wouldn't. This is a different power. It has it be. You're not even going to entertain another possibility.

(But if your friends want someone to blame, you'd still let it be you.)

"I didn't do this. I just..." Stay here. Take it. Dare you say like it. You're not telling them that. But it's true, to an extent. You'd be happy here, you think, if this was the rest of your life.

You abandoned Mira in her most desperate hour, and you're happy.

You're so disgustingly selfish.

"...Shut up." You know they won't.

' different, ' loop repeats, voice no more than a dry echo. how different, they wished to ask, aside from the obvious; aside from where they were, what surrounded them. because when it was boiled down, it was similar, wasn't it?

not knowing where to go, how to leave, what to do -- stuck in a game not of your choosing. they've gathered that much so far, they were used to that much.

' sure. ' the star concludes, only to continue right after. ' you're still somewhere you shouldn't be, stardust. your friends along for the ride, too! '

' . . . i've seen your fighter around, you know, and i have a good feeling there's more than just him. you, your friends, and a mess you've gone and tripped into. ' they were not yet certain, but it was a good assumption, they felt. plenty still left unseen, even more left unsaid. they could tell.

in the tension permeating from the traveler's presence; the way he stood, spoke -- as if they wouldn't recognize it. as if they wouldn't get the hint of what thoughts crossed that troubled mind. a threat the star has stared down once before, a threat they would gloss over even now. while they could.

' and now i'm here. funny coincidence, don't you think, stardust? '

for why else would they be dragged in, if not stapled to whatever fate siffrin has gone and dug up. it was why they first appeared, after all. to help him. they shouldn't be here without that reason, right? as it stood, it's all they had to go on, like it or not.

and they most certainly did not.

' if you don't need me here; ' ignore the twist sitting in their gut as they repeat that, ' if i'm not to be of help to you... why don't you help me, stardust -- siffrin? enlighten me, because i'm seeing some glaring similarities. '

leave you alone? no one's stopping you from leaving.

[impinged]

Just how many times will this happen? Hearing your name spoken aloud by someone familiar in an unfamiliar place. Except this isn't your name at all. It's not even a name you particularly like. It feels more like a title. Unwillingly bequeathed upon you, at that. Much like the presence of the one that utters it, without fail, every time you speak.

You freeze. Flinch. Refuse to truly acknowledge.

The supposed "fresh air" they make mention of stalls in your lungs. First in annoyance. Then? Then... it pangs in your chest. It takes you a minute to realize it's not the air you nearly choke on that rends you clutching your chest. No, it's the clenching of your heart.

You missed them, didn't you? You'll never admit it. They would have a field day with that knowledge. You don't think you'd ever live it down if you said it. Plus, it's... embarrassing. You can get on fine without them. You have, actually.

Never once have you needed them here. There are no loops here, no looping. But now there is a Loop.

They must feel pretty useless then, huh? Welcome to the club.

You muster the resolve to turn. Face-to-face with that blindingly bright head of theirs. At least you don't have to pretend with them. Well, about the truth, at least. You will still have to ask the same question you asked the others.

But first...

"You're late." Too late. The arrival of some of your friends has already granted you front row seats to the consequences of your own actions, so any levity or guidance Loop could spare you is well past its time due. Especially if they're trying to seem casual about it. You won't let them.

Part of you hates that they're like this. Another part of you hates yourself for feeling that way. Hypocrite.

Lately, it feels like those sentiments are two sides of the same coin. Hm... No. Bad analogy.

were they capable of bristling? it certainly felt like it, seeing that all too familiar hat atop an all too familiar head. like a picture set out of place, hung on a wall it didn't accent very well. one they had to acknowledge time and time again, passing through the same hallway. over and over, and over, and over.

only this hallway was new -- this world was new! but there it remained. that same, crooked picture hung for them to see. would scribbling it out do any good? the thought has certainly crossed their mind ( more than once, truthfully ).

after everything said, everything done... this is where they end up. this is what becomes of those efforts. was the universe watching? was this what it had in mind?

here's the end! here's your way out! nothing gained, everything lost! with one final slap in the face ! !

. . .

you hate it.

' . . . enjoying the fresh air? ' there was a reason they were here, right? just like before, to help their little traveler, no doubt? that must be it. that had to be it. what else could it be? even if this deviated from the initial wish -- from what it was suppose to be. again.

ha! . . . just breathe, loop. play your role.

' you're a long way from home, stardust. but it must be nice, right? ' a smile arches the stars eyes, a chilled gaze peering through ever-present crescents. ' a well deserved change of scenery! '

[ @impinged ]