This effort had conjured a handful of effects; the ticking of the clock was crisper than in her younger days, its face reflected the room's modern fluorescent light much too well, and its chime was not the spooky wheeze she recalled from childhood days. Back then she'd sat in meetings with her attention wholeheartedly glued to whoever was speaking, headstrongly insistent on absorbing every single detail in the moment and drawing her solutions to their raised issues on the spot. The wheezing bellow of the timepiece every hour had only served to distract and annoy her, often setting her tail straight and spiking her fur, whereas its perpetual ticking had served as a distraction which cut into the quiet moments better spent thinking rather than listening.
It was only after the clock had seen its first full service, when the princess had newly turned fourteen, that things had changed. Just as the clock had seen rejuvenation, she had met with Cream, Sonic and all their friends as a result of a chaotic incursion and gained a new perspective as a result. While the clock had gained fresh oil and parts, her understanding of how to act and treat her job had itself flipped. No longer was she hard-headedly trying to solve every problem brought before her in the moment, instead she had learned to split her attention and be patient. While she would still listen, the guardian now took notes and asked further questions; she drew on perspective both in the moment and later, in cloistered study. Follow up meetings would be arranged, and letters sent. Things were decided with thought and time rather than hard impulse.
Almost a year later things had still functioned in that way, she still took notes and requested further detail, but her perspective had again changed. The old clock had been out on one of its twice annual services that day; she'd been discussing the installation of new wave breaks for the south end of the island when Gardon had burst into the room. He hadn't hesitated to inform the guardian about a strange hedgehog who had washed ashore covered in injuries, runes on his hands and his fur ludicrously thick. Assuming this was a sign of some imminent new threat, the princess had rushed to the castle's foyer, where he'd been brought, only to be bombarded by a torrent of forgotten memories.
History long lost had come back to both her and that hedgehog, though the clock would return to the meeting room the next day, Blaze had taken a weeklong leave of absence. A lifelong friend from a lifetime prior had pushed to act in ways that she hadn't dared prior. Those foolish days still hung in the princess' mind, the reckless abandon with which they'd acted was surely foolish, but she could never have brought herself to act differently.
Today however, without warning, the clock had broken. Blaze the cat, now age nineteen, felt uneasy air swirl around her. Clock-watching was an unfortunate pastime that Blaze had gained following that hedgehog's return to her life. More than at any point prior in her life, the feline had found herself paying attention to the ticks and chimes of that old clock and measuring out how long she'd have to spend trapped in the meeting room. Today especially her note taking had been sloppy, her cursive handwriting littering little more than a page for each of today's five meetings rather than the usual two to three. Even now, as a lively koala gave his closing summation regarding his planned deconstruction of Machine Labyrinth Island, the princess was struggling to absorb details.
Despite this, she hastily scribbled down a few words, something about opportunities for recycling as the inevitable ask of, "Do you have any further questions, your majesty?" Rang out.
Blaze took a deep breath, quickly scanning what little she'd written and what more she could recall, "I don't think so Tabby, your plan makes sense, but I'll need to reflect on it for a little longer," She flipped open her planner, trying desperately to ignore a certain entry, "Would the same time next week work for you? I doubt we'd need a full two hours to confirm and ratify everything, but I can certainly offer it."
"That sounds great your majesty," He grinned, picking up the adventuring log books he'd used to support his proposal, "I'll get out of your hair, give my best to Marine if you could. How is that little rascal doing?"
"Better certainly, just a touch more mature," Blaze rather bluntly relayed, before having second thoughts, "Well, more mature when it comes to her work. I'll certainly give her your best."
"Some improvement's better than none I suppose," Tabby smiled at that, "I doubt she's as tiny as I remember…"
"She's on track to end up taller than Gardon certainly, I think there's a chance she'll end up taller than the whole Coconut Crew," Blaze revealed, only just remembering to note the set date for their next meeting.
"Oh geez, she doesn't need that ego boost," Crossing around the oaken table, the older Koala made for the door, "I'll see you around."
Blaze managed a smile as she waved him off, but her mind had been again drifting. As the door closed her gaze was pulled to the grandfather clock, standing silent adjacent to the door. To be sat in this room and hear nothing was as bizarre to the guardian as a compass without directions. Though she knew seconds were most surely still ticking on, without a tool to gauge the moments passing, she felt truly lost.
The guardian's temporal focus wasn't restricted to minutes and hours; however, its reach extended to days and weeks. As she went to close her planner, Blaze's eyes slipped to tomorrow's entry. Written in red, it measured four weeks since Silver the hedgehog had left the Sol dimension with no return date set.
Quickly, she closed the tome and alighted her chair, bundling that book and a collection of others into her arms. Today's work wasn't finished. Despite her lack of focus, she had to plan while it was all fresh in her mind. A last glance was thrown across the tight little room, its cream-coloured wallpaper and light wooden fixtures offered no advice nor hints to time. The space's position at the castle's heart meant no windows to the outside, but by her gut and the number of meetings that'd passed she knew the evening had been breached. It was almost humorous, despite spending the past hours hearing important undertakings set to shape her kingdom, everything outside of this room could have fallen away and she'd have no idea.
Her jaw tensed, as she approached the door, so much as considering that impossible possibility was symptomatic of her present predicament. She pushed the door open, revealing that the halls of her palace still stood strong. The hallway was quiet, the marbling of its floor reflected the light from the ceiling back at her. A deep breath was pulled through her nose then exhaled from her mouth; with that done, she had the will to keep walking. That was until she reached the palace's central staircase.
Blaze pushed past another foolish thought, one more a measure greedier than those which had come prior. She kept walking, rounding through a second corridor until she arrived at a great set of double doors. Butting through them with her shoulder, a microcosm of the wooden bookshelves of the royal library came to fill the princess' view. Her heels ceased clacking as she returned to carpet, thick and emerald in colouration. No hesitation found her step as she weaved her way through walls filled to bursting with literature, forcing back the hopeful spectres that were plaguing her. With every corner rounded she knew, no matter how small it was, there was a chance that she would find him. Equally however, she knew how close to impossible those odds were.
She didn't beat the odds, instead finding her way to an old plush couch near the corner of the room. It was green, where a veritable stitched fabric collage hadn't overtaken it at least, but a green that clashed with the dark green of the carpet, just as the light wood of its feet clashed with the dark wooden library fixtures. Before it sat a not so out of place coffee table, made of chestnut wood, with a small pile of dogeared books scattered on its right side.
The princess sat on the left, setting three of her four books on the table and drawing open the last. Unlike the room she had spent the past hours in, this space did have a window. To her right, made visible by a bookshelf being psychically pushed back many years ago, was a long rectangular window that stretched the entire length of the room. From her position she could see that night had pushed the sun beyond the horizon, though the recent shift from summer to winter meant that Blaze wasn't certain of how late it truly was. Time had bizarrely been at the front of her mind, yet that change had passed without much notice.
Her teeth grit and hands clenched as she forcibly looked down and flipped open the book in her lap. Though her work was spread across so many tomes and so much paper, it wasn't as though each book needed reading from cover to cover. Notes she'd already scribbled in the margins were ticked or crossed out and passages would be underlined quickly, all the while she kept a thumb to the back blank page for flipping to and plotting more thorough opinions. Unlike her work in the meeting room, this practice had been permanently drilled into the pyrokinetic from a young age. Selecting when to raise questions and forming them to have the most impact was important, she couldn't allow herself to ask them endlessly.
She managed to get around half-way through the first book, just having worded a question regarding new construction on the island's eastern side, when her attention was set adrift. Her gaze had gradually ebbed to rest on something she'd been ignoring; the pile of books on the table's right side. Blaze reached out and, with a gloved hand, swept a forefinger along the closest book's spine. An undeniable greyness now stained that digit.
Given the size of the room, and the palace as a whole, Blaze knew that objects left to lie grew dusty quickly. That knowledge didn't keep her heart afloat however, as she felt herself bite her lip. Her entire body felt tense, as she looked beyond her hand and used her thumb to rub away grey.
Though she had of course seen the books, she hadn't truly looked at them. Despite their shared hobby of reading, it was rare that they read similar things. The hedgehog spent his time either with his head in the clouds, reading fairy-tales and myths, or far too grounded, researching botany or history. Blaze preferred her free reading to lie somewhere in the middle, still in the realm of reality but far enough removed from reality as to distract from any present work. Typically, that meant works of poetry or more grounded fiction.
The spine she'd cleared revealed a simple title, The Tale of Sir Galahad. From that, and her knowledge of her family's history, she concluded that the book was a work of fiction, no more than two hundred pages long. He'd made it around halfway before setting it down, its spine to the air so as to let the table hold his place. That position suggested it was the book he'd most recently been reading, but would he even remember the story by the time he'd returned to sit beside her?
She swallowed only to almost cough, her mouth felt dry. Her gaze was ripped from the hardback and back onto the book in her lap, but only for a few minutes. By the time she'd delved five more pages deep, she again found herself eying the large pile. There were ten books there, not one of them finished. She'd chastised him for trying to read so many at once just before he'd left, rightly predicting not one of the tomes would be read through by the time he was set to leave.
"Yeah, maybe I won't get through all of them, but I'll manage a couple," He'd said, only to catch the princess rolling her eyes, "Right?"
A sigh slipped past her lips as she tried to force the memory of his form from her mind. Despite what had lay on the horizon, his bright yellow eyes had still shone like shards of the sun. He'd been his usual blunt self, still boldly bouncing his way into things up until the end. That overeager smile hadn't left his muzzle until the day of his departure.
Her hand found her face, how exhausted was she? In trying to force him from her mind, she had again found herself fixating upon him. There was still no telling when he'd be back, how long could she stand to put up with this?
Before he'd recently left, she hadn't sat in the library alone since the last time he'd left. It'd become a habit of theirs; while she would work and prepare for the next day, his reaction to whatever he was reading would offer the occasional (not needed, but certainly wanted) distraction. She'd find herself glancing up at him, catching sight of his overreactions of joy or woe depending on the day's flavour. He'd show her things, be they plants or quotes of interest, and make her tea or even meals during long nights. The hedgehog always had something on him, be it an apple or a soft drink, he'd offer up upon her arrival in an act of unabashed kindness.
Blaze recoiled, finding that her hand had come to rest in the spot where he'd once sat. He always nestled himself into the right, where the view of the window was at its best, while her place was on the left. Well, those were their normal positions. It wasn't uncommon for the back of her head to find its way into his lap, such that he could act as a pillow while still reading himself. For almost four weeks now, she'd sat upright on this couch and muddled her way through countless meeting-logs.
She looked down one more time but could no longer deny the state of her heart. The pages could have been blank before her, it would have made no difference. The princess' mind refused to settle on anything but him. It was just so silent in here without him beside her, even the quiet rustle of pages and shift of couch springs so casually caused by the hedgehog would have been enough. It was those simple things that weighed most heavily as time stretched, like the simple sound of his breathing and the shift of his back against the cushion as he squirmed in delight or shock at whatever he was reading.
In the present though, or rather the future of that other world, there would be no time for such simple things. She could only imagine what he might be facing, be it monsters like those she had faced alongside him or the more standard terrors of a dead world. Unlivable conditions born of torn earth, countless untended dead and creatures either forced to fight for survival or formed with the intent to kill. It was all possible, likely even, that he'd return to her injured. While their experience of time was presently separate, it was inevitable that the more days came to pass on her end the more bad she imagined could happen to him.
She tried to shunt those thoughts away; Silver was strong, she knew that he was. Compared to everyone else she knew; he was capable of the most ridiculous feats of power. Under pressure he could conjure psychic blades, push skyscrapers to the ground, teleport and flip massive chunks of earth. None of their friends, at least on their lonesome, were capable of comparable feats. Sonic was faster, Amy was physically stronger, but they weren't afforded the versatility in power offered by his psychokinesis.
But Silver was also, in a lot of ways, a gentler soul than much of her friend group. He wanted to do good, he'd fight so ferociously when given the right cause, but a moment's thought could set him off kilter. Her mind had drifted back to finding him on the docks, during their first time spent in the past. It only took Amy's profession of love to stop him, that was enough to prompt his hesitation and make him overthink. He'd been entirely stopped in his tracks by her proclamation, the idea that just one person cared for the supposed origin of the world's calamity. In hindsight his gut response had been correct, but, in the moment, he'd seemed so likely wrong.
He was gentle in other ways too; in his hobbies and interests as well as how he treated others. To describe him as soft was inaccurate, she knew that much within her heart, but it was as though he aspired to be so. Despite his powers, despite the scars beneath his fur and despite his drive to do good, if the hedgehog had been born into any other world, then she knew he would not be a fighter. He couldn't bring himself to abandon his destroyed home, but he was at his best when he was away from it. He wore his smile and comfort better than he did pain and anger.
Blaze's eyes jumped to the window, but the dark of the night gave no indication of how long she'd been daydreaming. She cringed as she looked down to her book again, the words still looked like a barren wall in her path. This was impossible; perhaps today had been too full, perhaps time had simply run its course, but regardless of reason the truth had become clear. The princess could not work today, she would have to push all this off until the oncoming morning.
But if she could not do that, then what was there to do?
Her mind flickered back to the stairs and a thought she'd had perhaps an hour or two prior. Hesitation lingered in her marrow, she did want to press on with work, but eventually the book in her lap came to close. It arrived on the table, alongside the other tomes, as she rose to her feet. She walked the labyrinth of books, inherently aware of the correct path to take. In no more than a minute she was back in the hall, the clack of her heels on marble sounded much too close to the ticking of a clock for her liking.
In a matter of minutes she'd reached the stairs again, only passing a single cleaner on her way and only managing so much as a nod. Two floors up, ten steps along the right corridor, she found herself there far faster than she'd anticipated. Hesitation again paralysed her at the doorstep, she knew that her idea was foolish, but she'd considered it before and done things similar already. T-shirts stolen as pyjamas, borrowed blankets reclaimed and other mementos tucked away in private.
Blaze pushed open the door and flicked on the light, revealing a slightly unkempt guest bedroom. Though the bed was made and the floor was clear, there were still signs of prior life. Houseplants sat on the windowsill, presently maintained by her, and clothes sat folded on the end of his bed. This was where Silver slept whenever he came to stay. Though the site sent more memories of him cascading through her head, she'd not have to step far into the room to claim what she'd wanted.
Having stepped beyond the hearth, she swung the door back to reveal its mounted coat hanger. Though three articles of clothing hung from it, only one held her attention: a garb he'd worn so very frequently, despite the island's summer heat. A zip-up jumper, grey in colouration with personalised decals. She could remember when he'd had the idea for it and, though he'd never sewn before, he'd practised and practised on scrap pieces of fabric to make it right; sat beside her in the library, making far too much mess.
The feline reached for her shoulders and shrugged off her royal coat, opting to fill the jumper's gap on the hanger with it. She took it in, knowing that he'd worn it a day or so before he'd left but that it hadn't needed cleaning. For all the effort he'd went to, cutting and stitching, his modifications were minor but very fitting; a pair of cyan symbols, matching his own, had been sewn to the cuffs, a soft fur lining had been made to fill the hood and an overlarge cyan fabric circle spanned much of the item's back.
It was all around the room, but as she drew the jacket around her shoulders the scent of him was undeniable. Though his sweat most plainly hung on the air, a scent she'd come to recognise in their first lifetime, it was undercut by a certain fruity sweetness. The hedgehog hadn't been the most cleanly when he had returned to her, time spent in destroyed worlds left little room for more than quick bathing, but she'd, with some effort, convinced him to change that. He couldn't stand the chemical smells of the more thorough shampoos he should probably have been using, but that had resulted in an unmistakable new associated smell. With the sweat mixed in, it was like finding strawberry plants and raspberry bushes at the peak of a long hike.
The garb claimed and now wrapped around her frame, albeit left unzipped, she made haste in departing and soon found her way to the bottom of the stairs. Again, she passed a cleaner, their work for the night seemingly ended. Though the pyrokinetic gave a deeper nod this time, she couldn't help but feel an incredulous stare follow as she walked past. The hedgehog's frequent stays in the palace had drawn relatively widespread attention. As a result, this was the closest she'd come to intentionally wearing one of his garbs in public… even if it was still in her own home. Usually, his stolen clothes were reserved for their individual rooms.
Sweeping aside those thoughts, she pushed her way back into the library and began to travel its excess of shelves. His scent surrounding her almost acted as a shield to Blaze's imagination, settling her in the fact that he wasn't present through the illusion of him. Despite that however, knowing she was alone, Blaze allowed herself to frown as she retook her spot on the couch.
Before she could settle, she reached for the coffee table and drew up the book he had been reading. Rather than dog ear the book as he had, she opened one of her work journals and tore a strip to use as a bookmark. Once it was in place she flipped her way back to the book's front, only to be greeted by a bizarre illustration of a hedgehog standing atop a hill with a sword in hand. She did hesitate, blinking at the certain unmistakable resemblance between the drawn figure and her missing partner; but quickly chalked it up to an imagined figment, conjured combination of her yearning and the presence of his smell.
The book was nice enough as a distraction, she had far more success with it than she had her workbooks but that wasn't saying much. In a number of minutes, no more than an hour, she did find that her mind was lingering more on him than anything written. It'd started with her truly imagining Silver as the titular Sir Galahad but devolved into more peaceful wondering as the book dragged on. Her choice of garb was entirely to blame for all of the changes, but it had particularly conjured a certain familiarity.
It was as if his arms were wrapped around her, the fluffiness of the hood encroaching on the back of her head was so close to matching her his chest fur would align. The fabric couldn't compare to his warmth, just as the sleeves couldn't match the embrace of his arms, but it was just close enough for her to imagine it was him. Silver had a strange relationship to touch, his powers meant he could live an untouched existence and yet, he took every opportunity to touch her. He'd shuffle close when they were sat side by side, embrace her whenever they reunited and even let his arm slip around her when the opportunity arose. He certainly wasn't suave or smooth about it, not remotely, but he was significantly better at making contact than her.
She never thought she'd manage to say it, not in a million years, but there was a word she liked to think no one but her would use to describe him. Despite his naivete, bluntness and headstrong nature, Blaze couldn't help but describe him as cool. That word likely better suited someone like Sonic or Knuckles, anyone who seemed to thrive under pressure and enjoy conflict, but to her it only fit the time traveller. The fact that he could be so casual both with her and his powers, so honest and earnest without flinching, was more worth aspiring to than any level of power or skill. She supposed she thought of him as cool in the more juvenile sense than its true definition.
Admittedly, his physical features perhaps had more to do with that dubbing than she typically dared to think about. While most would likely describe him as pretty or cute, and Blaze could certainly see those aspects, the feline had a unique insight into his more rugged features. The scars that lay beneath his fur, the calluses on his hands and the toned nature of his overall frame. While the hedgehog wasn't muscular, in time spent lying with and upon him, she'd easily picked up on how he'd grown. With all that in mind, he cut a rather dashing silhouette; a glowing cyan form in the dark, often hovering above.
Blaze bit her lip, feeling herself slouch into the couch, the book was allowed to close and set back onto the table. How much longer would he be away? When would she next see him smile, laugh, and cry? She'd take almost anything at this point, despite how the thought of him returning injured pained her. He would be back, she believed in him more than she did anyone or anything else, but Blaze knew he wasn't invincible.
She just wanted to hold him again; to pull him down to her height by his ear and chastise him, all the while just enjoying his closeness. To lie with her head in his lap and feel his initial surprise melt into comfort. Her fingers longed to run through his quills, messing what was already messy and catching him staring up at her.
The pout returned to her face though as her gaze returned to the window, the blackness of night was now complete. While she'd focused on the peaceful things, she knew what would come first. The bandaging of wounds, the planning of their efforts in his world's past and the battle that would follow it. The peaceful times she so sought would have to wait, the hidden ruggedness and false hardness of the hedgehog would be on display for the incoming days. Well, the incoming days after however many days were set still to pass.
The sound of the library doors swinging open was enough to tear Blaze from her imagination and cast her gaze into the obscured depths of the library. Could it be? Was it him? Her pulse redoubled its space, her tail began to swish as footsteps resounded but by the time they grew close Blaze's hope had waned. The footfalls were too light, he hadn't called out to her and rushed much quicker. He'd probably even have levitated rather than walked anyway.
Instead of the white hedgehog, Blaze watched as a grey koala stepped into view, dressed in blue and wearing a tense look on his face. Upon meeting her eye he gave a quick bow, removing his hat from the top of his head. It was all so sterile, so formal. Evidently the cleaner had told him where the princess was staying, but judging by the man's expression this was no check in. Although the koala was kindly, above that he was devout to his role as a guardsman.
"Your majesty," He greeted, "There's been an urgent development. You are needed in the foyer."
"Thank you, Gardon," She softly responded, too easily slipping back into the professional state she'd worn now a few hours prior, "I'll be swift."
The koala gave another quick bow. His expression of panic was stronger now, but the origin of it remained indiscernible. It might have been that catching her in this state had further unnerved him, the guard had surely picked up on her present worries, but Blaze couldn't help assuming the worst. Before she could ask any further questions though, not that she truly had the will to, the elder had turned and slipped back to navigate the bookshelf maze.
For a moment, not more than ten seconds, Blaze sat still as her mind raced. While she'd maintained professional seriousness in her voice, under the surface her nerves were lashing like twelve dozen enraged snakes. Late or sudden arrivals requiring her attention was nothing new, but present circumstances were puppeteering her train of thought. The foyer was where they'd first reunited, where he'd been brought before her soaked and beaten within an inch of his life. Of course Gardon's words had led her to think of Silver.
Just as when she'd be rounding bookshelves, almost looking for him, there was a chance she'd find him at the doorway, but it was much more likely that she'd find no psychic hedgehog. The worry painted on the koala's face suggested as much, that or that Silver was in an exceptionally poorly state. He'd returned to her injured before, both partially and majorly, and the horrors she'd imagined overtaking his world could surely leave him broken.
Blaze fought to strike those last thoughts from her mind as she rose, taking a step away from the couch, only to catch herself. The scent still hanging in the air prompted the feline to glance down, revealing his jumper. Another sigh tumbled from her lips as her eyes came to shut. With its smell, iconography, style, and state, it would be unfitting to meet guests while wearing his garb. Not to mention the gossip that she knew would be born of her being seen wearing it.
She slumped the jumper from her right shoulder first, allowing the fabric to bunch loosely as she did the same for the second shoulder. It was over dramatic and foolish, but she couldn't help lingering as the crumpled fabric mass was held by its collar in her right hand. His scent still clung to it, but for how much longer? And for how long could she justify donning his garbs like this? Could she ever truly?
Her face crumpled into a look of seriousness as she set the jumper on the left couch cushion, as ruffled as she'd found it. Another glance down at herself revealed a still somewhat unprofessional appearance. The combination of thick leggings and a white shirt wasn't what a visitor would anticipate from the princess but, given the importance Gardon had stressed, she couldn't wait any longer.
Without another look back, she re-entered the bookshelf maze: as blind to what was ahead of her as to all she'd left behind.