(General warnings: big emotions/mental breakdown, moderately graphic metaphos (specifically: stomach trauma) )
Just a little bit longer now.
The chorus fades; harmonious layers fall away one by one. The world is ready to move on, snap the connecting threads, one by one, and drift into endless space, leaving you behind. Just a little bit longer, and you will be freed of the countless voices celebrating their life without and after you.
As the distance between you and the rest of existence grows, the sole aching connection stretches thinner and thinner. The chorus is too far to hear, now - so pained vibrations of the lone cord grow clearer. A single voice still signs, straining, shaking with terror.
You've spent so long desperately resenting each other from the opposite ends of this unwelcome, binding tie. You both have been wishing for ignorance for so long. It would've been so much easier to forget everything that destroys you if you didn't have to feel it echoed across space and time, chaining you to a place the thought of which terrifies you. You had wished countless times to squash the tiny pitiful voice like a bug under your fist.
Now that it is the only one you can hear, it sounds so… lonely. You would almost feel hesitant to sever your bond once and for all.
Good thing it was never up to you.
All you can do now is wait.
- So let me get this straight. She is still out there somewhere? Like, space? And you've been, what, haunted by her? This. entire. time?!
It's hard to tell if Miriam is raising her voice to outshout the wind beating against the two of them, or to vent out all of her befuddlement and frustration. The latter ring loud and clear either way, though.
Kiwi falters, shifting on the broom behind her. The subsequent shaking of their transport gets a stressed out hiss out of Miriam.
- ...Sort of?.. - Bard's voice wavers as they try to find a way to communicate this inexplicable empathetic knowledge. - She's not really… anywhere. - They feel short of breath on the last word and have to take a moment before continuing: - And it's not like she's a ghost… not really?..
Miriam scoffs, and Kiwi is forced to appreciate just how weird it is that they have an actual precedent for that.
- Are you sure tho? - Miriam herself sounds uncertain, now, as if grasping for any understanding, any familiar solution to this. - Sure sounds like one of those freaky empathy possessions.
She falls silent for a second.
- Is she trying to like… use your voice?..
Bard has to gulp down, hard, to relax the straining tension in his chest. His fingers ever so lightly rest on his throat. It burns with a tight ache of an unsung song. They shake their head, falling heavier against Miriam's back, then wrap their arms around her.
It's weird, being so close to her again, and so vulnerable. Kiwi feels exposed, the raggedy landscape of all of her weird, conflicting feelings suddenly uncovered. It's difficult, accepting Miriam's comfort when all these edges and ridges must be so rough for another person to touch. But it's too scary to let go of it now, too. So Kiwi presses their forehead into their friend's warm steady body, and lets Miriam decide when it gets too much.
They reach Langtree deep into the night. The village is sound asleep, and silence and warm air wrap all over it like a comfortable heavy blanket. The flowers barely glow in time with the chirping of crickets, lulled to sleep with the rest of this small, harmonic world.
Kiwi points Miriam to the edge of the village, and they land onto a clearing cushioned with soft lush grass. Despite all the warmth and comfort of the gentle Langtree night, Kiwi can't stop rubbing his shoulders. The nervous feeling that has been building up inside of him the entirety of the flight seems to have reached its peak. They look around, timid and unsure.
Next to them, Miriam is tightening her grip on the broom, seeming just as lost.
- Soooo…. What's the plan, exactly? - she asks, skepticism only poorly covering the anxious notes in her voice.
Kiwi takes a cautious step toward the edge of the woods, tilting their head up. She closes her eyes and holds her breath, afraid of drowning out… something. The undefined and vague it she hopes to find here.
Behind them, Miriam starts nervously tapping her foot. After a full minute of intense listening, Kiwi has to admit that their friend's impatient shuffling and huffing is the only thing they can hear here. Their breath catches in their throat on the exhale. Is this it? Is there nothing? Has this all been in vain, are they never going to-
Miriam's hand lands on their shoulder and tugs at it, urging Kiwi to turn around. Miriam looks frustrated, and worried… and tired.
- Well? - she demands, and Bard tries to gather their thoughts, to follow through on the promise. They are going to try to talk.
They grasp for the sensation of Miriam's touch, trying to ground themself however they can.
-...Remember, - they start, voice wavering, and Miriam gives their shoulder a soft reassuring squeeze, - in the Spirit World… when an Overseer would… die, - Kiwi swallows, the word heavy and cold in their stomach, - we could still feel… something? Their… presence.
Miriam nods, intent.
- I thought… maybe we would be able to find her here? Somehow… To… bring her back. - Bard's gaze wanders aimlessly, eyes unable to focus. He feels like he's falling, for miles and miles, with nothing to hold onto. - But there's… nothing here at all.
- Woah, hey.
Miriam grabs both of their hands. Kiwi looks down at them and notes how they are shaking in Miriam's steadying hold.
They take as deep of a breath as they can, with the panic rolling up to their throat in a thick suffocating wave. Miriam encouragingly rubs their hand with her thumb. Kiwi finds her eyes and gives her as much of a grateful smile as they can.
- ...Do you feel anything?
Bard can almost feel the last string of hope stretching excruciatingly thin.
Miriam gives Kiwi a glum look, then sighs in resignation. She closes her eyes and takes a step back, frowning with focus.
A few seconds pass in tense silence that floods Bard's every sense. At last, Miriam exhales, her shoulders dropping, and shakes her head.
Bard feels something in him give out.
The air between them is hopelessly and unmistakably dead.
- ...Do we even need her back? - Miriam grumbles. - I don't get why you're trying so hard to-
The immediate deafening sickness that crashes over Kiwi must be shockingly obvious, because Miriam is immediately at their side, calling out in hurried worry:
- Okay, okay, I'm sorry! - she plants her hands firmly on Kiwi's shoulders. - I get it. This is… big.
Bard manages a shaky nod, struggling against paralyzing fear. Their scrambled thoughts are going a thousand miles a second, swarming their brain with dizzying questions, too many to count or process. Is this how Miriam feels about them, too, what would she think if she knew, is she right, is the world right, are they doomed for not feeling the same way, is it too late for them, is it too late for her…
- Kiwi.
Miriam's voice sounds unnervingly serious, insistent, but also… pleading, in a way that, in the middle of this whirlpool of emotions, makes Bard's heart ache.
The two of them stare at each other, from what feels like miles away, balancing on the edge of feelings that would be too big to handle, right now. So they hold hands, and keep each other's feet on the ground, as firmly as they can.
Bard draws a long shaky breath and smiles, weakly, affirming that they see their friend, hear her, understand what the look in her eyes means. Miriam exhales, letting go of the obvious panicked guilty tension.
- Okay... Let's see.
With one hand at her chin, Miriam frowns at the ground, the tapping of her foot resuming. Her other hand is holding onto Kiwi's.
- The… thing never actually happened… here. It was this… weird whacky "this world-Spirit World" collision.
Miriam looks at Bard, small and unsure.
- We should probably check the, uh, other side. - They watch her scrape together every tiny shred of confidence in her possession before she speaks again, bravely feigning certainty. - Come on!
Kiwi lets Miriam lead her through the trees, past her house, looking dark and abandoned, up the flowering hill. She feels absolutely wrecked. It is infinitely comforting, to lean into Miriam's decisiveness, let her take charge. But Miriam's hand in Kiwi's own is sweating nervously, and from time to time, they squeeze her fingers, to offer her whatever presence they can.
The realization does not dawn on Bard until they reach the towering Tree of Slumber. Once it does, though, they are stopped dead in their tracks, letting go of Miriam's hand. Oh no.
Miriam takes a couple more steps toward the mystic giant and measures it up. With a heavy sigh, she starts rummaging through her pockets. She looks... tired. There is no way she is getting any sleep tonight, and the emotional exhaustion combined with the long, long day she's having must be absolutely draining.
- We go together. Find each other as soon as we can, - she throws a concerned look in Bard's direction, - um… hopefully.
Kiwi responds with a stifled high-pitched "mhm!..", frantically searching for any way out of this. There are none. Miriam is right. The Spirit World is the only next logical step.
Miriam freezes, hands at her sides. She looks over at Bard, an embarrassed blush creeping up her face.
- I, uh. don't have my piccolo. - She stares down at the ground, arms crossed. - So… just! go first.
Bard swallows a panicked chuckle. Sure. Singing. That is a thing they do.
They approach the Tree on weak legs, fiddling with their fingers in nervous desperation. Miriam watches them, her cheeks still a self-conscious pink. This feels like walking off a cliff edge, trying to get ready to plummet into the ocean below. They're not. They're desperately not ready to disclose this. But time and circumstance keep pushing them forward with undeniable urgency, no matter how hard they dig their heels into the ground.
Kiwi draws a deep full breath. Before he even attempts to sound the first note, he feels it fall dead, empty and flat.
This won't work. He doesn't even have to try.
Bard could laugh from all the hopelessness they are feeling. Who even knew that they still had new, beautifully soul-crashing lows to hit! But the supposed laugh chokes them up, gets stuck in their throat in a hard clump, making their eyes water.
The look in Miriam's eyes shifts from defensive to intense. She watches Kiwi in silence, waiting. When a few seconds pass and the quiet between them is not broken, her whole body is suddenly charged and seething.
- I knew it! - She balls her fists. - I knew there was something wrong! - She glares at Kiwi with flaming self-righteous anger mixed with frantic concern. - Fess up!
Bard feels their lip start to quiver and slaps both hands over their face. They try to breathe steady.
- I… - Their voice is dangerously shaky. The choking knot is coming looser and looser. - I can't… do it. I can't… sing. Not like that.
Kiwi finally lets the suffocating laugh out. Miriam must appreciate just how incredibly ridiculous, impossibly hopeless this is, right? The sound escapes their constricted throat in a twisted, gasping sob. All at once, all that was left of their strength evaporates into thin air.
Bard's back presses against the rough bark of the tree, and they let their body slide down it, curling up between its roots.
With the scariest confession they ever had to make out in the open, Kiwi feels suddenly and brutally gutted, all of the messiest most vulnerable parts of them mercilessly on display. And they just won't stop spilling out, now.
When, after a few seconds of broken raw silence, Miriam's steps grow close, her shoulder presses against their own, and her hair tickles their cheek as she helplessly tries to meet their eyes, Bard takes their hands away, their face a wet mess, and lets the words that have been buried in their chest like dead drowning weight come out in a flood.
- It's no good anymore, I can't… sing anything good anymore, not anything that anyone would want! I can't join anyone else, it's all just… not coming out right… I tried, I really, really tried to mean it, I really wanted… to stay… in the song… But all that is left is… the other one. I know that if I try… to be honest… it will come out. And it can't! So I… can't.
Kiwi's hands are flying in the air now, frantic and shaking, desperately trying to dry their face, helplessly twisting into vague inarticulate gestures.
Miriam's fingers wrap around one and bring it down, carefully, like a panicked fledgling. Then Kiwi's other hand finds itself in Miriam's, pacified. Miriam leans even closer in, meets Bard's eyes, fixes them with her gaze. She is sulking, and teary-eyed.
In a quiet, rough tone, she asks:
- Why?
Bard tries to swallow another whimper, but does not have any will left to suppress it.
- It's her, Miriam! - she moans, desperate for her friend to understand. But that's not quite right, that's not what's so scary about this. - Or… it's… me. I… feel what she feels. - They take a ragged, sharp breath. - I think I… always have?..
Miriam's face scrunches up in clear confusion.
- Always? Like… this?
Bard shakes their head.
- Not like this, just… the normal way. We're… similar. - They curl up into a ball, burying their face in their knees. - We want… the same things. And I still can't… let go! I can't be better than that. - They grip the fabric of their cape, crumple it in their tense aching fingers. - Even after everything.
The last words come out in a helpless wailing sob, probably barely intelligible.
Kiwi lets the crying fit overtake them and rattle their entire being until it, hopefully, exhausts itself. Their head hurts. They feel deeply, irreversibly drained, bone-weary. They are barely aware of anything but the violent spasms of their body and the unbearable weight crushing and shattering their heart. All these tears are not even leaving them soothed or unburdened.
Miriam clings to them with a death grip, as if they're about to be ripped away by a storm. She waits, and does not say anything.
It takes a while to weather it, but Bard is already so incredibly tired. There is only so much senseless sobbing their nerves can handle.
They breath is weak and unsteady. Feeling weirdly empty, they let their body slump in Miriam's arms and stare blankly into the quiet still night.
What now?
They feel Miriam take a deep breath.
- Sing it.
Bard turns to her with a look of disbelief and fear, and quietly shakes their head. Miriam furiously rolls her eyes.
- Just sing it, okay?! It's hers, so what? It's yours, too, and you're here!
Kiwi grabs their shoulders, suddenly feeling very cold.
- I don't want to. I don't... think I could come back from that. And it wouldn't be… right.
She looks up at Miriam, distant and despondent.
- Would I break the world?..
Miriam freezes in contemplation - for only a second. Then, she shakes her head.
- You don't actually think you're the only person on the entire planet who feels all that, right?
Bard shrugs, their gaze wandering away. Among all the bright happy beginnings, it sure feels this way. Incredibly and inescapably lonely.
Miriam leans forward and looks them in the eye.
- I'll listen. I promise, okay? You won't, "break", anything.
Kiwi studies his friend's eyes for what feels like eternity, trying to understand the certainty, the intensity… the longing. Looking at Miriam now, they can see her own loneliness, so very different from theirs. It's begging for them to finally be honest, impatient to hear all that they have to share. Almost hungry for it.
They turn their attention inward. The haunting song is there, always within reach - all they need to do is let it happen. The weird and terrifying phantom connection is fading, but the song is not. It's… theirs. It's the only one they have, if they hope to ever be able to sing again. They have just been biding their time, haven't they?
They put their hand on top of Miriam's, hold it as tight as they can and give a slow nod. Miriam tightens her arms around them, prepared.
Bard straightens their back and breathes in, deep, feeling the air fill their lungs and ignite the notes that have been ready to burst out of their chest. They squeeze their eyes shut and take the leap.
The first fragile sound balances on the tip of their tongue for a brief moment before falling into the warm night air. Their voice is hoarse, worn out by their sobbing, but, for the first time in a long time, it carries the melody without fault. They have forgotten just how natural this can feel…
The song hangs heavy in the air around them, slowly unfurling the vast and desolate scape of loneliness, dread, old unhealed hurt. It's not easy to sing; but it's right to.
Bard hesitantly opens their eyes and stumbles, their voice wavering. In front of them, a little ways down the hill, one of the shimmering flowers is growing a dark blue colour, dimmer than Bard has ever seen it turn. Their heart falls. They should stop, they shouldn't-
Miriam's hands squeeze their shoulders. Slowly, quietly, she picks up the melody, sends the song afloat again for a little bit longer. Her voice is timid, but steady, waiting for Bard to join back in.
Kiwi gives the swirling dark of the flower's petals one last long look, then forces themself to meet his friend's eyes and follows her lead, one unsure note at a time. Their voices blend together, echoing each other's uncertainty. Holding each other up. Slowly, ever so subtly, they both grow stronger.
Bard finds a new feeling running through the cold heavy stream of their melody. It fills them with live, current electricity. Miriam is not singing from herself; but she is lending her voice to their feeling, readily and fully. Hearing all their fear and despair unearthed and echoed in her timbre rips their heart open in the gentlest, most fulfilling way, like it's been ripe and ready for it. For the first time in a long, long time, they feel… understood. Like there is a place for them in this world. Here and now.
Love, gratitude, relief swirl in Kiwi's heart, vigorous yet sweet, tender. This time, their tears are quiet and warm.
They fall fully into the song, voice soaring. They want to be heard. They want to sing all of it, they want to share everything, to be known. It's okay if they are. There is a heart that's been waiting to hold them.
The dark blue flows to the edges of trembling petals, dissipated by sparks of gold, bright and bold. The flower blooms and blazes like a tiny flame.
With every next note of the song, now loud, clear, true, another blossom ignites in bright colour. Shimmering light rolls down the hill, springing from petal to petal, stitching into a glowing pattern as far as Bard and Miriam's voices can reach. The two of them sing in the softly illuminated night, drifting on the swelling notes.
Overhead, out of view, past the far-reaching crown of the Tree of Slumber, a few stars start burning brighter. They glimmer in every shade of the rainbow, mirroring the glowing pattern that has been painted across the quiet meadow in the small village of Langtree. A new constellation forms, and for a moment, the night sky grows brighter and closer.
Lights ignite in the soundless dark, one by one.
They rip the shrinking, dissipating void open, and for a moment, you're blinded and confused.
The warm glow beckons you - elsewhere. It leads somewhere that isn't this. There is a place for you; somewhere to be.
The road is stitched in starlight, and it is for you. The gentle flames are here to warm you, every cold, numb part of you. The distant lights that mark your way are steady and sure - they will not fade, they will not leave you to stray. They are here to bring you home.
You reach, tentatively, with all that you are, scared it will all vanish in the blink of an eye, another sick, cruel trick of the universe.
The glow envelops you, takes all of you into itself. It carries you along, gently encouraging you to take the next step.
You are safe here. You are safe now.
You are not alone.