Sue blinked once, then again, trying to focus her eyes. The tent was shrouded in shade, but if the lit-up patch of canvas near its top was anything to go by, the day had long since arrived. And yet, to Sue's surprise, she appeared to be the only one awake. Her mom's closed eyes might have been turned towards her, but there was nothing in her mind beyond formless warmth. Ditto with Comet, but facing his mom instead.
Miraculously, neither Sue nor Lilly had fallen off the bed overnight. Not for the lack of trying, though—if not for the leafy girl using her girlfriend's arm as a pillow, Sue would've definitely slipped off. Fortunately, her crush had her yet again, the thought lighting a smile on the Forest Guardian's half-asleep face. The aching and soreness coming from her legs undercut that sensation somewhat, but not enough for Sue to be forced to do something about it here and now. Instead, she was down to snooze, or at least daydream.
Anything to end her night on a less unpleasant note.
And so, her cheek returned to its rightful spot on Lilly's chest. Even if the planty girl didn't breathe the way Sue did, the faint scent in the air, the warmth pouring out of her body, and the blurry love tangling in her asleep mind made her more comfortable than any pillow Sue could think of. Okay, almost any pillow, Lilly's chest was regrettably not that soft.
With Sue's eyes closed, rest crept its way through her fast. Her perpetually distracted mind quietened, her breathing slowed, her awareness dimmed to make up for the ever-brighter sun. Before she could cross the boundary of unawareness, however, a quiet voice reached her physical ears. A whisper and whistle simultaneously, each sound an outpouring of affection. Despite Sue's best efforts at falling asleep, feeling her cheek being stroked re-ignited her earlier smile. Lilly noticed and asked her something, but before Sue could figure out what was said, another sleepy bundle of limbs joined the fray.
Joy's creaky, roar-like yawn filled the tent with a stretch. And then, she opened her eyes and froze, finding herself nestled up beside someone she barely knew. Her startle disabused Sue of any hopes of getting more rest, but before the Forest Guardian could speak up and explain the situation, the metal girl fell foul to a force far greater than either she or her mom.
Namely, gravity, brought on by her maw sliding off the edge of the bedding.
Without hesitation, Lilly jerked her whole body and grabbed the girl mid-fall, the accompanying whistle stirring everyone still asleep out of their rest. Once Joy was back on the bed and nervously trying to hold her mom, though, Sue figured it was high time to disentangle herself from Lilly and at least sit up. Couldn't give her daughter the affection she deserved with just one arm, after all.
A few awkward moments later, Sue was sitting in the center of the bed with Joy huddled up on her lap and Twinkle clinging to her midriff. Her injuries chimed in at being disturbed, but soreness aside, she felt fine. And now that they had all unceremoniously woken up, it was time to put her magical creature brain to use.
And my magical creature arms, of course.
"Good morning Joy, good morning Twinkle, good morning Lilly." Even with her earlier practice, establishing three mental links at the same time took some effort. Hearing their words and seeing their faces light up with understanding was worth all the struggle in the world, though.
"Mom!" Joy squeaked out before reaching her arms to be picked up. Once that need was fulfilled, questions replaced it. "S-s-sleep nice mom?" the girl murmured, and looked over at the plant girl sitting beside them. "Wh-wh-who name?" She hadn't forgotten their previous interaction, getting snatched from the arms of one mom and brought to the other, but knew very little about the green person beyond them having made her mom happy.
While the corners of Lilly's mouth rose at hearing the local orphan refer to her girlfriend as 'mom,' said girlfriend was keen to introduce them to each other. "Joy, Twinkle," she began, her smile audible, "this is Lilly. We," Sue wrapped an arm around her, "l-like each other a lot. A lot, lot."
There's a word for that, it's right at the tip of my tongue...
The dancer giggled at her introduction. "Hiiii!" she waved at the kids, giving them their time in remembering who she was. She leaned back a bit at seeing the sharp-looking tendrils reach out towards her from the bundle of ghost, but relaxed right back at Sue's reassurance. "Twinkle you, right? And course Joy you!" She pointed at the girl in Sue's arms. She then brought the tip of one leafy arm to Twinkle's side, letting them grow more comfortable with her, before second-guessing on doing the same with Joy.
"J-J-Joy me!" the girl confirmed. She squirmed in Sue's arms and lifted her maw towards Lilly's hovering hand.
"She likes being pet there," Sue whispered, trying not to audibly swoon.
While Lilly set out to act on that piece of crucial information, making both kids giggle with her affection, she realized something about how their day had begun. Sue's attention jumped to her at sensing her embarrassed blush, and didn't relent once Lilly muttered her question out: "Not hear what say I, you?" And then, a clarification moments later, somehow turning her cheeks even rosier. "Before wake Joy."
"I didn't, no," Sue confirmed, barely containing a grin. "What did you sayyyyy~?" she teased, more forward than she'd thought herself capable of.
Lilly gulped. "Say—I—"
"^Probably something about how she loves and desires you~^" a soft voice filled everyone's mind, the accompanying body stretching as far as it could. "^Am I right, Lilly?^"
Solstice's intervention gave her less of a rhetorical out than Lilly had hoped it would, but it had to suffice for now. "Yes, correct that!" she squealed, hoping that she wouldn't be asked to elaborate on that. Or, at least, not while young, impressionable minds were around.
Sue certainly hoped Lilly would elaborate on that sometime. And provide a practical demonstration while at it. That'd have to come later, though, much later. And in the meantime, it was time to greet someone she cared about just as much. "Heh. Good morning, mom," she beamed, basking her mind in the glow of Solstice's motherliness.
Said glow was undercut by the cold shower of dumbfounded shock from all around her, but it was nice while it lasted. "Mom?" Lilly looked back and forth between the two Forest Guardians. "Think not I, told me Soot not."
Lilly's dumbfoundedness was the less dire of the feelings around Sue, though. "M-mom?" Joy whimpered. Not even she was sure if it was an expression of confusion or wanting to catch Sue's attention or both, but her mom acted on it all the same. The girl was held closer to her chest, with her ghostly sibling brought up to join her for an explanation.
Solstice leaned over, ready to assist if needed, giving her daughter a reassuring look.
"Yes Joy, Solstice is my mom now. Just like I'm your mom now. She's your grandma," Sue clarified, the words dampening Solstice's eyes. "I really, really care about all of you. I-I love you. Just because she's my mom now, that doesn't mean I'm not yours anymore. Same with you, Twinkle," Sue clarified, letting the little ghost wrap their tendril around her fingers as they looked up at her, as close to wide-eyed as it was possible for them.
"Wh-why mom?" Joy asked, active worry giving way to confusion. She remembered less than she wanted to, but even she was sure that her mom and Solstice didn't know each other until recently.
Sue giggled. "Why? Because..." she trailed off, her eyes meeting Solstice's. "Because we care about each other. Because we-we're proud of each other. Because we..." Sue's voice caught, the reality of the situation slamming her despite her best efforts to stay composed. "B-Because we understand what we've both gone through. Like almost nobody else does."
The final reason went way over the heads of Joy and Twinkle, but Lilly understood the allusion. She let out a quiet gasp and slid closer to her girlfriend, arms shifting from cuddling with the kids to comforting the Forest Guardian. It was so unnecessary, especially now after they'd both shed so many tears already, but it was genuine. A grin pierced through Sue's expression and lingered even as she rested her head on Lilly's.
Joy's little mind was hard at work thinking about the implications of what Sue had told her. "Her mom mom," she muttered, helping count herself on her fingers. "Y-you mom me. Who me mom?"
Solstice's soft laughter filled the tent at the obvious-to-Joy question, the sound warm enough that even the girl herself joined in on it. "^You aren't anyone's mom yet, Joy,^" she explained. "^Maybe one day you'll be a mom, once you've grown up. Right now, Sue is your mom, and I am Sue's mom, and we both love you and your sibling a lot.^"
While Joy nodded through the explanation, Sue lifted the little hauntling up, bringing them closer to her face for them to latch onto. A thought was building up in their shapeless body, more defined than almost anything they had experienced. After all,
"You said she not your mom..."
Sue blinked through her resulting confusion before wincing at remembering what Twinkle meant. Yes, indeed, she'd reminded her kids just yesterday that Solstice wasn't her mom, because that was true at the time. And now, something like twelve hours later, it wasn't. While the change was nowhere near as abrupt to experience as it was to describe, it was still confusing. "Right, Twinkle. I did say that yesterday, because..." Sue gathered her thoughts and looked up to Solstice for help.
The older Forest Guardian could only stare back at her, uncertain what the question was about. Guess it would be all up to Sue.
"I didn't... think she was, yesterday." Sue took a deep breath. "We both cared about each other from the moment we met, before we even realized how much we had in common." She looked up at her adoptive mom with a wordless question, and continued after an equally wordless answer. "I lost my old mom when I was little. And then my dad, more recently. And Solstice lost her daughter a few years ago."
Joy nodded weakly, looking back and forth between the two Forest Guardians, before wrapping her arms around Sue's hand, her maw trembling behind her. Twinkle's little mind shuddered. They remembered that much from yesterday as well, but it wasn't any easier to listen to the second time. They clung to Sue with one tentacle and reached more towards everyone else in sight, feebly pulling them together. That included Solstice and somehow-still-asleep Comet, but the hauntling's limbs couldn't even stretch past the firepit.
Which, of course, meant that it was time for Solstice to get closer to the rest of the group. The Mayor gave the lil' ghost a warm smile and picked her son up into her telekinetic arms, before walking up to the bed and sitting down on the floor. Twinkle's tentacle wrapped around her forearm without hesitation, forming a spectral cuff around a hand that then dispensed affection to both them and their sister.
"^Despite how similar how experiences have been, we were afraid to really admit to it out loud,^" Solstice stepped in, giving her daughter a rhetorical hand. "^When you've been running away from those feelings for so long, that impulse remains even after you find someone who understands.^" Her explanation was interrupted by the sudden sensation of a mawtip clasping around her fingers, but considering that neither Sue nor Joy were alarmed at the sight, she figured it was something normal. Unexpected and somewhat unhygienic, but normal.
The kids' ability to comprehend the fine detail was limited, even with the combined explanation. The feeling of having to keep running was familiar, but not so much as to bridge the gap in understanding about their mom's changing answers. "^The point is,^" Solstice summed up, "^that Sue is my daughter now, even if she wasn't yesterday.^" Any more details probably didn't matter all that much at the moment. Either way, they'd be able to get the full story when they got older.
Though probably not from me.
The cold pang in Sue's mind made her mom perk up and pass her a concerned look, but Lilly cut in first. The kids couldn't understand, but she could. "See, I. Very painful feel, it."
"Oh yeah, it, it was at times," Sue chuckled, letting the unsavory thought fade like cigarette smoke. "But it's over now. Probably no point in lingering on it much further than this. Anyhow—how's breakfast sound?"
'Breakfast' was a universally accepted proposal. With the central pot being empty, any further culinary exploits required a quick jaunt for the ingredients first, a task that Solstice and freshly woken Comet gladly took on. Well, at least one of them did. In their absence, Sue tried to lie down some more, get some more comfort in, even if it wouldn't include more sleep. Lilly sat beside her, stroking her hair, and the kids were split between following their respective roles.
And yet, comfort was difficult to squeeze out. A bit of aching here, a narrowly avoided cramp there. A bitter truth branded in her hippocampus, foretold but impossible to foresee for now. A heavy discomfort under her heart, made heavier still with every touch of Twinkle's soft tendrils and Joy's clumsy paws. The knowledge of their frailty, her frailty, her weakness.
She'd have to do something about it today. Probably not right now; the day was still young, and she wanted to get the most out of her time with Lilly. A quick question revealed the said time to be at least a couple of days long, a fortunate downtime between farm-tending duties, but she was still loath to waste even a second more of it. In discussing what they could do today, one answer shot itself way to the front of her mind, threatening to burst out of her skull like some kind of malformed Greek deity.
And after Solstice got back and was done with her breakfast preparation, Sue promptly presented it. "Say, Lilly, how about me trying to learn Moonview's language with you today?"
The two other adults in the room reacted to the proposal in polar opposite ways. Lilly's expression lit up, first in surprise, then uncertainty, before settling on excitement. She didn't see terribly much utility in the idea, considering Sue could already talk to her, but the thought of helping her girlfriend settle in for good far overshadowed any logistic concerns. "Yes!" she whistled, breaking into a brief pirouette in excitement.
Two feet away from her, Solstice's similarly upbeat reaction soon deflated. She looked around the room in unease, fiddling with words in her head until she found a way to succinctly express her concerns. "^Are both of you sure?^" she asked, the tone making it crystal clear that she herself wasn't.
"I don't see why—"
"Yes Solstice ma'am!" the dancer cheerfully exclaimed. "Moonview talk, know how I!" It was only at this point that the actual point of the Mayor's concern finally connected with her green mind, prompting a more reassuring answer. "Know talk different I, but know how normal talk I." She furrowed her brow and closed her eyes, before mouthing out a handful of strained words. "I. Know. How. To talk. Normally. Very, difficult."
Sue was oblivious to the potential linguistic complications, but her crush's strain was much harder to overlook. She placed a hand on Lilly's leafy arm and looked up at her from her seat before gently tugging for her to sit down beside her. "You don't have to strain yourself..." she began, before giving Solstice an uncertain look. "Right?"
Comet let out a half-yawn, half-squeak at the shifting atmosphere in the room. He waddled over to sit beside Sue's legs, giving him a prime spot to poke her from. His mom spared him a split-second smile and went back to worrying. "^I suppose for basics it wouldn't be necessary. I'm not worried about you not knowing how to teach, Lilly, just about Sue getting confused.^" She thought back to the single word her daughter had produced yesterday, and how it was so strained that it took everyone a good few seconds to even recognize what it was. Sue needed to work on her pronunciation, and urgently at that.
Though if it were just the basic pronunciation, then there probably wouldn't be any issues with Lilly's involvement. Her voice was beautiful and her delivery clear; it was just the grammar and syntax that were unorthodox. As long as they stayed in that familiar territory, things ought to have been okay. "^Actually,^" Solstice interrupted the unpleasant silence, "^how about this: you could spend today working on pronunciation and getting the tones right, and then later on, you'd see if learning the language proper would work. If so, then great, and if not, then we could ask someone else to teach Sue—with your aid Lilly, of course.^"
Pronunciation was the one part of the language Sue cared for the least. Getting all those tones right would suck, she felt it in her gut. But then again, just because it would suck didn't mean it wasn't a good idea. Not her first choice for a pleasant day off, not even her tenth, but if it was an area Lilly could help with without having to strain herself, then any other considerations didn't matter.
Lilly was just glad to have been given a life raft. "Yes! Train speaking, we. Very nice sing you will, Sue~," the dancer giggled, firmly dispelling the lingering tension. And lighting a minor fire on her girlfriend's cheeks. Being made to 'sing' sounded quite nice indeed. Well, as long as it wasn't literal singing, she couldn't keep her notes for the life of her.
...
Oh Duck, this is really gonna suck, won't it?
...
I'm supposed while I'm at it, hey Duck, where the hell did you go last night? You can answer me tonight, I guess. But everything just disappeared and there was this blackness and, a-and then Nightbane—
"Sue?" a sing-song voice snapped her out of the wordless prayer, especially when accompanied by shaking so intense it'd fit well in a tumble dryer.
"It's just—had a bad dream last night and just reminded myself of it," Sue mumbled. The admission was truthful enough not to alert Solstice right away, letting her continue stirring the peppery stew in peace, but still got Lilly to lean over in concern. "It wasn't anything terrible, don't worry, just... Nightbane."
Lilly was content showering her girlfriend in silent reassurance, eager to let the no-doubt painful imagery fade and be forgotten. Sue really, really wished that was an option, but a sinking feeling in her gut made it difficult to even consider. The plant girl's touch and her mom's worried, warm look made dealing with it easier, but true rest wouldn't come for as long as he remained around.
Still, she was so, so very grateful. "Thanks Lilly. It's definitely much easier with you here. Heheh..." Sue chuckled nervously, not minding a firmer embrace at all.
"Glad I!" the farmhand whistled. She resisted the impulse to show off for Sue, but the desire deep down was still there. Well, not even that deep, really. More so surface level that it needed to be actively covered with a tarp lest it'd start splashing around. And as little as Sue would mind Lilly giving her a personal show of her athletic feats, there was simply not enough space to do so without kicking the potful of stew into orbit. And that'd just be a damn shame.
"^Alright! Breakfast's about done. What portions do you girls want?^"
This was some good-smelling stew.
A few more minutes of downtime gave Sue a chance to really elaborate on her plans for the day. Language training with Lilly was the highlight, of course, but Twinkle's new outfit was also ready to be picked up—and with how long the hauntling had waited for a shape to call their own, Sue was content to make that their priority. She remembered Willow chatting to her last night about getting her a proper cane, so they'd have to hit up their clinic once more. And while they were there, she could borrow some paper and a charcoal stick or two for the language lesson.
It was amusing how surprising that addition was to the other two women. Solstice reminded her they'd only be doing pronunciation and not writing today, at which all Sue could do was giggle and explain that she primarily learned back at school by taking notes. Even if the subject concerned something physical in nature, like vocalization. Lilly was left scratching her head at that, and so was Solstice, but less overtly, until the once-human shared one little fact she thought to have been self-evident by now.
She knew how to write in her own language.
The tykes had little to add, split between sipping on breakfast stew and stretching their amorphous body against the oh-so-warm bowls, but the addition of writing still perked their attention. Right, they had to give them something to do as well, and drawing worked as well for that as anything else. A part of Sue worried they'd just get really bored, or even start interrupting her learning, but the more she thought, the more manageable that outcome was. Lilly was available all day; she was available until evening at the earliest. Even if they had to take a break to tend to the kids, they'd just pick it up right afterwards. They had the time. Right?
The taunting question left Sue unnerved once breakfast wrapped up and it was time to go. Twinkle took their throne on her shoulder, and she hoped this was the last time she'd be touching the increasingly unclean fabric of their current disguise. Joy jumped in the air at the thought of uppies, first towards her mom and then—without even having to be reminded to—towards Lilly. The resulting smile sure helped Sue push through the aching in her leg, but as far as analgesics went, she would've preferred something more conventional—
"Sue, hey!" Lilly whistled, stopping her mid-step. The Forest Guardian's gaze jumped between the familiar buildings surrounding her mom's tent, before turning one-eighty degrees and dragging her body with it. There the curvaceous dancer was, one arm of hers and two of Joy's waving in her direction.
For there was a stick there, left leaning next to the entrance to Solstice's tent. Which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be a fancy, smooth, cane-shaped stick. Polished, nigh splinter-free, and as a quick test drive determined—sized perfectly for her.
"For you?" the dancer asked, wanting her suspicion confirmed.
"I think so, yeah. Willow did say they were gonna bring me a better cane."
They also said that about bandages, and those are nowhere to be seen...
Lilly nodded so intensely Joy's metal teeth rattled in her arms. "Better feel?"
"Much," Sue emphatically answered. It wasn't perfect; her arm still felt sore, but that was just something she'd have to live with for as long as she had a cane on her.
Lilly's small smile lit up the late morning road. She leaped to her girlfriend, took her free hand, and without saying another word, got going towards the vixen's home. The leafy arm wasn't easy to hold, but the small cut in its tip at least let Sue wave her fingers in it and let her hand feel being held. Which it was. Occasionally so strongly she had to speak up about it, but the minor joint and finger pain was worth it. All her aches were worth it. This world was worth it.
Because her family was here.
A black-hatted bird flew directly overhead them, deeper into the village.
"Look Sue! Already visit again they! Sweet!" Lilly pointed with her head, standing on the tips of her feet.
The words building up inside Sue's throat were interrupted by a low, drawn-out croak from behind her. Not a completely unfamiliar sound, but one she didn't have a name for right away, and that didn't change even once she'd looked at its source. A man-sized blue amphibian with black fins and orange gills, staring at the sky while radiating worried disappointment and the physical sensation of being fifty years old in approximately equal measure.
While Sue made up for her communication limitations, Lilly responded: "Yes, is! Why not, Ms. High Tide?"
"—he night kin back," the frog croaked back. It was not an angry admission, but it certainly wasn't a happy one either. "We remember how last time with them go," she muttered, before giving the other group a longer look. "Or maybe not. Not remember now, everyone young. Not remember plague, not remember crops..."
No wonder I got some bad vibes from her in the past.
Sue's eyes narrowed. She was torn between letting the topic of conversation fade and just getting going again, and standing up to the oversized frog. Would that accomplish much? Sue doubted; she didn't know High Tide at all and she was skeptical of spending what was supposed to be a day of relief arguing with yet more petty bigots, but as always, if not her, then who?
Lilly, that's who. "Not true," the farmhand calmly pushed back. "Not cause plague they. Right Sue?"
"Of course not, no," her girlfriend confirmed, voice weak. She passed her cane to the other hand and reached up to Twinkle, laying her palm on their outfit in case they were sensitive to the downturn of the mood and needed a hand. Their tentacles wrapped around said hand, but for once, it was not for any anxious reasons—being held was fun and the conversation was going way over their head, anyway.
"Easy say when you not there," High Tide groaned.
"Think same many that were there." Lilly stressed, taking a card from Sue and rocking Joy in her arms. "Ms. Solstice, Ms. Sundance, Mr. Granite, Ms. Daisy—"
"Daisy!" Joy perked up, screeching the name at the full volume her dry mouth could dish out, almost exactly as loud as Lilly's voice before her. The metal girl's head looked around the scene in search of her old, both by her standards and by anyone else's standards, friend. Alas, she was nowhere to be seen, leaving the excited tyke to calm down between the leafy arms.
"Maybe see Daisy can we!" Lilly giggled. "But, later. Now, Ms. High Tide, not all even, that list."
High Tide rubbed her large fingers against the bridge of her face. She felt as if she were talking to children. "Uuuugh. What I care about others failing memory? We all know what happen. And we fucking invite tragedy again."
Sue's cane arm clenched. She was about to snap back with something, but noticed someone taking an interest in their impromptu conversation. She didn't particularly care for anything they'd add, but if they were going to chime in, she might as well focus on being able to hear them. The link with Joy was repurposed for them, and not a second too late.
"Why language crass, High Tide dear?" Orchid interrupted the conversation with the elegance of a suburban SUV cutting a corner. The living bouquet had little in terms of good associations for Sue, but she was present in Newmoon yesterday, and that was something she could respect.
"Language befit topic," the frog grunted back, before sighing. "Nevermind. Who care, even. What people want, people get. Cannot change I," she trailed off, looking off in the distance.
At the other end of her orange gaze was the one ladybug Sue hoped she'd frankly never see again. Their name was taking its sweet time returning to her, but their experiences most certainly weren't. Being told off—or more accurately, signed off—by an asshole after one of the darkest days of her life was the kind of thing her spite wouldn't let her forget for a long, long time. And while their close ties to Root explained their attitude on a detached, academical level, Sue's ground-level reaction to seeing them was a desire to throw a rock in their general direction.
The world provided something even better.
There was a palpable delay between Pollux running past the ladybug and them reacting, just enough for Sue to second-guess herself. But no, they had indeed noticed; they knew what kind of horrible fruit thief and plague bearer the kit was, and there was only one appropriate reaction. Screeching with a sound that only a creature without control over its vocalizations could make, followed by flying in the opposite direction so fast that the clacking noise of their chitin-clad head running into the nearest wall echoed through much of Moonview.
"For love of... ugh, Sunrise!" High Tide croaked out and made her way towards the source of the dull noise, her gait an awkward half-hop, half-quadruped walk.
"Hope that not hurt," Orchid winced. "Blunt head impacts decidedly unhealthy."
"They kinda did it to themselves, though," Sue flatly grumbled. "You saw them, they just panicked and ran for no reason." If Lilly's giggle was any sign, that indeed might've been what'd just transpired. Either that, or the dancer just preferred her girlfriend's version of reality.
The living bouquet chose her words carefully. "Well, regardless, not want head hurt if possible. Mistake or no. In reference to topic mistakes," Orchid trailed off, and Sue's blood ran cold for a few very, very long seconds. "Sue, you carry cane incorrectly."
What? How?
The Forest Guardian blinked and looked down at her body. She kept her right leg, reddish injury and dirty bandage and all, about an inch off the ground, with the cane firmly in her right hand taking over its locomotion duties. Her thick fingers were just a touch too large for the cane's grip, but that was to be expected. "Incorrectly...?"
"Certainly, dear. Here, me help," Orchid began, and without another word, a half dozen greenish vines extended from the seizure hazard of her colorful neck bouquet. All of them reached towards Sue and began correcting her stance and technique, no matter how hard she flinched at suddenly being touched by them. They were mostly small posture changes, but then, over half the vines wrapped around her shoulders to keep her steady while the final two passed the cane between her hands. She leaned to the left, trying to find her balance, before just barely clawing her way there.
This didn't feel right. "What, why—" Sue muttered.
And was immediately cut off by the planty medic. "Trust! Here, few paces walk!"
Fuck you too?
Then again, Orchid was an actual healer and Sue decidedly wasn't, and so it was in her best interest to go ahead with her for now, even if just to show that no, this weird arrangement wouldn't work with her anatomy. Her cane hand trembled as she took a step with her left foot, leaned forward—and found her swinging arm putting the cane in just the right spot as it fell. She had to rock back and forth a couple of times to kick-start her walk from that state, but once she had, it was remarkably smooth going. Certainly much less stilted than how she was doing it with her right hand, even if it forced her to lean her body a little.
"See! Perfection," Orchid commented, dragging out the last sound. "Weird, weird nobody tell you. Very welcome~. Now, go I need—"
"W-wait, Orchid!" Sue cut in, almost laying herself out on the packed dirt before remembering to use the right hand. "I wanted to ask you something before you go."
"Questions follow-up treatment? Certainly. How help I, Sue?" the medic asked, almost singing her name out.
Sue just shook her head. "No, not that, I think I'm good on that front. I more so meant N-northeast," she forced out, eyes getting pulled down to the ground in regret. "How's she? Haven't talked to her since... you know."
"Ah! Oh, Sue, she doing much better, glad to say. Tis unfortunate situation. Last heard, looking for you, she."
For some strange and unexplainable reason, hearing that did not make Sue feel even slightly better. Instead, she was left to nod awkwardly and look over her shoulder just in case, giving her irrational fears a ride on the carousel of her paranoia. It'd be downright stupid for the cat apprentice to be looking for her for malicious reasons and tell her mentor about that, but it wasn't the rock-solid proof Sue would've preferred. "Oh. Glad she's better," Sue forced out, smooth as gravel.
"Yes, is she. Want everyone as better, alas. Root keep his weird lately, more and more. Keep asking for weird. Maybe too need time to breathe? Hahaha."
Sue was relieved the living bouquet didn't notice her dead-eyed stare at the mention of the priest. Even if it conveyed nothing specific, his acting "weird"—whatever the hell that could've possibly meant with someone like him—was concerning enough by itself. Did it mean less bigoted? More bigoted? Whole new lawn-burning levels of competitive racism? By any metric, his conversation with her yesterday was also weird.
Another new and concerning fact about Root to add to her mental fort. By now it probably had more concerns left in it than genuine mysteries, almost all of them caused by the one part of this new world that was the most petty, the most short-sighted. The most familiar.
Still, worrying as it was, she couldn't do anything about it right now. "I hope it's just that, yes. Thanks, Orchid, appreciate it," Sue finally forced out, voice hanging heavy.
"Not even an inconvenience!" the medic replied. "Anything more help with, I?"
Not unless you've been secretly also a psychic all along, able to intuit not just people's surface-level moods but also deep desires and exact plans. Not that it'd be a good thing, Duck forbid, but it'd be situationally useful for dealing with my paranoia.
Sue stifled the weakest chuckle of her life. "Don't think so, no. Take care."
"And dear you, and dear Lilly, and precious youths on your arms!"
Orchid's comment brought Sue's hand to Twinkle again, stroking the fabric with its pointy fingertips. It was high time to beeline straight for Sundance's house and get their new outfit. Then the clinic for the paper, then finding a pleasant spot, then—
"Sue?" Lilly interrupted with a mix of her soft, sing-song vocalization and a gentle shake of her arm that threatened to unplug it from its socket. "Good, you?"
With Sue's attention forcibly relocated, she had no choice but to confirm Lilly's concern while gesturing for them all to get going again. She was about to put her free arm back to its mental linking duty, but opted not to at the last moment. Not yet. "I'm just worried, Lilly. A bit about Northeast, and a lot about Root." She really didn't want to elaborate on either of those, but it was only right to do so with Lilly. She wanted to be more honest with her, as scared as the thought of that was. "I hurt Northeast and hadn't apologized to her yet, and as for Root, I'm just worried he's planning to do something drastic."
Lilly followed Sue's words closely as they weaved through Moonview's narrow streets. The tips of her arms stroked a comfortable spot on Joy's maw. The second admission was certainly more worrisome, but it was the first one that caught her attention. "Why apologize not?" she asked.
Sue was thankful there was no judgement in her words, only confusion. "I've had a couple of chances, but just panicked every time. And I haven't seen her all day yesterday, either," she explained. And then winced. Her words certainly explained the 'why', but not the why behind the 'why'. And even if Lilly might not have wanted to pressure her into revealing that second layer, her conscience wouldn't let it remain unsaid. "And as to why I panicked, it's just, just—ugh. I have no idea how to word it in a way that doesn't make me sound like a coward."
The farmhand was taken aback by the phrasing. A reassurance bubbled in her throat before getting preemptively cut off—Sue wasn't a coward! She wouldn't have agreed with that even if she'd just met the Forest Guardian, she didn't enjoy seeing people put themselves down, but the sheer extent of what Sue had already accomplished elevated that self-deprecating claim to being downright comedically wrong. And Sue had to have known that, at some level.
And so, Lilly chose a different strategy. "Say like that, then," she said, giving her girlfriend a warm look.
Not the approach Sue expected, cracking her tense expression into the flimsiest of amused smiles. But maybe it was the one she needed. "A-alrighty then. I panicked because I was afraid she'd be mad at me. K-kinda like I'd lashed out at her..."
The few still-functional neurons in her brain tried to bring up the elephant mutant in the room, namely the sheer difference in power between her and Northeast. But, as strictly correct as that assessment was, Sue doubted it really mattered with her fear. She knew Northeast wouldn't just decide to hurt her in the middle of the street. Didn't suspect, didn't reckon, didn't guess. Knew. It just wasn't a factor in her mental calculus.
What was, however, was being the recipient of the cat's disapproval, annoyance, and anger. Her disappointment.
"Think that it?" Lilly tentatively asked. A part of her was certain she'd misunderstood something in Sue's explanation, but she wanted to give the Forest Guardian the opportunity to clarify if that was indeed the case.
Sue wanted to shrivel up. It was as true as she was capable of expressing, and yet simultaneously so pathetic that it was tangling Lilly's wires up. Kinda sad, really. "I wish it wasn't," she admitted. "I know it sounds weird. I know I am weird. Half the time I act without thinking and end up accidentally helping people, and the other half I overthink everything and I'm so scared of messing anything up or disappointing someone so much it paralyzes me. I can speculate why I'm that way—" Sue inhaled and quickly swapped the word she was about to use "—and God knows I have! So many times! But I don't think it has ever led me anywhere."
An awkward silence filled the air, made even more so by the group having arrived at their destination. A limestone staircase leading up to the dwelling of one wise firefox, whose wisdom was desired as always, even if it really wasn't the time for it.
"I'm sorry," Sue blurted out. This train of thought has led nowhere, and all she'd accomplished was making herself sad. Good going. "I'll go up and grab Twinkle's outfit, alright?" She was afraid to even look Lilly's way, afraid of just what kind of disappointed confusion she'd receive. And yet, she looked over all the same. Of all the people to be afraid of, she didn't want Lilly to be one of them. She wanted to trust her.
Lilly was evidently uncertain, but she returned her look all the same. And then, without hesitation, moved Joy into one arm and took Sue's hand with the other. "What sorry for?"
That is a very good question with a very bad answer.
"How honest do you want me to be?" Sue flatly asked, a grimace seeping onto her lips.
"Very honest, please."
Sue nodded. "Well. Some of it is because I was genuinely sorry for souring the mood. But most of it was... *sigh*, to make you feel sorry for me. I think."
Lilly blinked twice, and then a few times more. "Think that, you?" she asked. To Sue's relief, there was no hostility in her tone, but there definitely was doubt.
Which was not what Sue expected, either. She held on to Lilly's hand but reeled a half-step back, trying to parse her question. As far as she was concerned, this was as honest as she could get on that topic, spilling out a disappointing and unpleasant truth on a behaviour that was second nature to her. One that she, at some level, had known about for years but was afraid of admitting to anyone else because of how bad it made her look.
And here was Lilly, doubting that very same admission. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"Because..." the plant girl trailed off, her hold on Sue's hand remaining firm. Her foot bounced to a rhythm only she could hear, and with each beat, her thoughts flowed that much more smoothly. "Because manipulative sound, it. Intentional manipulative," she began. And then, quickly elaborated after seeing Sue's face go from pale to paler. "And not manipulative you. Not intentional manipulative. Said you, 'do and not think'. This opposite that."
"But why else would I do it?" Sue blurted out in reflex. The pleading undercurrent of her question was missed by her, but certainly not by Lilly.
"Because really sorry? Or habit? Or not know what say?" the farmhand suggested, almost offhandedly, before concentrating on what she'd say next. "Not matter, think I. Not want you think manipulative you. 'Not think' sound scared. Not manipulative."
Sue stared back, stunned, for much longer than she'd want to admit. Joy speaking up finally shook her out of her momentary stasis, the contents of her growl lost on her mom. Lilly's point was so out of left field that Sue wasn't sure how to respond to it, or even where it'd come from. A voice inside her insisted that the 'why' didn't even matter, because needless apologizing was manipulative whether she'd intended it to be so or not. "I suppose, I guess, but I just don't know why—"
"Because yourself mean to you," Lilly answered, raising her voice just a little. "Don't want that. Not bad person you, Sue. Scared and mistakes and sometimes hurt, but everyone that. Please, nice to yourself."
The firmness in her crush's voice took Sue aback, even if employed for the best possible reason. She had a hard time even parsing what she'd said about herself as 'mean.' As far as she was concerned, that was just the ground truth she was pretending wasn't there. But that's not how Lilly saw it. Of course, Lilly was very, very biased, but Sue couldn't deny, deep inside, that she had a point. And of all the points she had silently overthought in her life, of all the things she was probably doing wrong that people must've quietly disliked about her, this wasn't one of them. It actively resisted making sense.
...
But if Lilly had brought it up, then it was for a reason. And if nothing else, Sue wanted to at least try. For her. "I-I'll try to, Lilly. I'm—" she began, and bit down on her tongue. Quite hard at that, leaving her worried for a split-second that she'd tasted blood. Once she'd confirmed she hadn't, she could force out a much better alternative to yet another apology. "Thank you."
The resulting embrace lifted her up from the ground and spun her around, leaving her decorated dress fluttering. She was too stunned to respond right away, but once the dancer had safely deposited her back on solid ground and gave her a kiss for good measure, giggles finally forced themselves out of her face, accompanied by Joy's own. "Welcome~" Lilly laughed, and looked her in the eyes. And amusing as the scene was, Sue could tell her crush had meant it. And that she'd try her best to listen to her request.
Still, petty realities such as 'chores' and 'plans for the day' remained, and it was high time to get back to them. "R-right, uh, be right back!" She turned to face the staircase and began climbing it for the umpteenth time, each one just as hazardous on account of the continued lack of any railings. And to her chagrin, while the technique Orchid had taught her was better for flat surfaces, it proved to be much more difficult to make work on stairs, leaving her dangerously wobbly.
Lilly was looking at her with palpable concern. Figuring out how to climb the stairs like this would take a while, and while Sue figured it was an unavoidable struggle she'd have to conquer sooner or later, there was also the little ghost in the room that was looking forward to their new looks.
Thankfully, there was a straightforward way to square both those issues. "Lilly, maybe you could go ahead with Twinkle while I figure out how to climb the stairs like this? No need to make them wait for me."
Lilly hesitated for a moment, but ultimately chose to trust Sue's ability to not hurt herself any further than she already had. "Sure! Come, Twinkle!"
One translation and a few rounds of gentle coaxing later, the little ghost agreed to hop onto the dancer's head. Not much in terms of either shoulders or arms for them to sit on, really. Sue wasn't expecting Lilly to leap halfway up the staircase in a single motion, but considering her antics back at the farm, she shouldn't have been surprised.
Good Duck she's athletic...
Hearing the barks and yips corresponding to the foxes' speech snapped her out of that distraction. It also, to her surprise, made her feel disappointed, somewhat. She tried to make it up the steps a couple more times at her own pace, but the lack of experience with using her left arm for this, combined with there being nobody to spot her in the moment, left her giving up on the idea soon after. She probably could've just swapped back to the cane arrangement she was more familiar with instead of trying to figure this one out on the fly. Should have, even.
Oh well. Maybe next time. Or when she had more time to experiment with this new cane. On an entirely rational level, she knew she didn't have to do it, and that nothing would happen now that she'd chosen to sit this quick visit out. Still, it felt like a failure on her part. Like she'd backslid in her ability, like she was being lazy because of having opted not to do something difficult and arguably dangerous for once. On her self-appointed 'day off.' How monstrously selfish of her!
...
I probably shouldn't think of it that way, though. Even as a joke.
Difficult as it was, Sue was determined to at least attempt to take Lilly's advice to heart, sitting down at the second bottom step. Consciously overriding her reflexive self-deprecation with understanding felt weird, kinda like was taking pity on herself. It was almost cringy, in a way. A part of her was anticipating someone laughing at her in response, even if just inside her own head.
While Sue was content to wrestle with those unfamiliar sensations in silence until her crush got back, or at least wasn't sure how to pull herself out of it, her little one had a different idea. Joy's eyes squinted at something before the attached mouths let out a gasp, followed by her standing upright and trying to jump on the spot to catch someone's attention.
And catch their attention she did; the buzz that accompanied his presence was unmistakable for anything else. It was also utterly incoherent, but the giant bee knew to give Sue a moment to establish communication before saying anything important, instead focusing his attention on the lil metal girl.
"Hey, Basil," Sue greeted with a weak wave, shaking off her introspective thoughts. Her gesture was aimed at the bee and the caterpillar on his head alike. The latter responded in loud, happy noises.
Basil turned to her in the middle of patting Joy's head with his giant stinger. "Happy day Sue! Wait for someone you?"
"Yeah, Lilly's upstairs with Twinkle," Sue explained, letting the name linger for a few overlong moments before realization struck her. "Oh, I'm sorry, I don't think you know who that is—"
"I know I know!" he exclaimed. "Teeny tiny ghost in bag!" Seeing a mounting question on Sue's face, he then clarified, "Hazel tell."
The prankster also being a tattletale wasn't welcome news, but the annoyance of that realization was undercut by Sue recalling what had happened the last time she saw them speak. Or rather, argue so intensely that Ginger had to headbutt them together. "Wouldn't think you'd be talking to her anytime soon after the last time, heh."
Basil's buzzing grew louder and higher pitched, as if a broken speaker was trying to play back a recording of laughter. "Say same Birch haha! Angry her was but wanted not angry and talked and sorry say she!" he explained, and Sue could swear he was almost as surprised to be recounting that as she was to hear it.
"That doesn't sound like her, heh. Wonder if Ginger's headbutt really did straighten her out."
The buzzing intensified once more, briefly spiking into painfully loud. "HAHAHAHA maybe maybe Sue! Better she, happy I! Know you, think I—again visit soon Ginger? Miss I."
Alas, she didn't have access to that kind of insight. The technicolor lizard's night kin nature didn't help in that regard, but from what she knew of him, Sue doubted she'd be able to predict that even if he could read his emotions. "Sorry Basil, I don't. Maybe you could visit him in Newmoon sometime instead? I think he'd like the company."
Just as her earlier comments lit up the fire of laughter inside the giant bee, this one had all but extinguished it. Not with anger, just sorrow. "No good idea. Still Birch..." his buzzes trailed off, and his posture deflated so much that even Joy noticed, opting to pat him along the oversized stinger.
Right, something had happened to Birch's family, hadn't it? I think Solstice told me something like that yesterday...
"Something happened to him?"
"Not not him. One family person," he glanced at Joy again before choosing to be blunt, "one person dead, more sick. Try not be sad sad he, and worry I. They very very not want help from Moonview. So worry Birch, worry I, and angry I. Know I independent want they, respect I, but why nothing help want? Annoying, annoying, annoying. Sue?"
As much as Sue was trying to pay attention to Basil's explanation, one word in particular had grasped her mind and refused to let go, swallowing her mind whole.
'Sick.'
"Basil, what—" she began, trying to put words to her fear without revealing too much of it, before a different sensation interrupted her. One she faintly recognized and which quickened her heartbeat. She was confident it wouldn't bring danger, not to her and not by itself, but it was enough of a bad omen that for a moment she reconsidered running upstairs to hide in Sundance's dwelling after all.
But no, there was no time. After all,
"What do you want, Luneth?"
The trouble had already arrived.