Chapter 31: Descent
CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of parental emotional neglect
The walk back to Sundance's dwelling was largely spent in silence, to Sue's relief. She greatly appreciated Daisy's help, the new perspective to chew through her mental murk with, but couldn't deny that having to put so much effort into just making sense of her words was draining. And that's without even mentioning all the digging through her emotions the topic of conversation demanded.
Instead, both of them got to enjoy silence and clean air. The blue rhino didn't linger for long after the yellowish sandstone of Sundance's roof came into view. Instead, she patted Sue's shoulder from behind to catch her attention and spoke, pointing at the tall building, "Sue girl! Here where want go?"
Sue's firm nod was confirmation enough. "Y-yes, that's here. Thank you for talking with me, Daisy."
"Not worry! Glad help. Need walk anyway. Safe be!" Daisy laughed. After patting Sue's back a couple more times—which Sue finally endured without losing her balance—she turned around and headed out, towards where the other builders were working.
As Sue made her way through the last stretch towards and up the stairs to Sundance's home, worries refused to leave her. Everything going on in her head had been merely subdued, far from excised, and she was acutely aware. She knew she'd have to keep talking—or at least, that she
should talk to the vixen once she got back—but the thought of that still intimidated her.
And the worst thing was that she didn't know why.
Sundance hadn't been anything but helpful in all their conversations so far, be they about Moonview's history or what might be going on in her head. Sue knew she could trust her, that the vixen was likely the most capable person here for helping her process those feelings, but... that didn't make said feelings any less scary. The opposite, even. They've been perfectly content remaining quiet and digging away at her confidence in silence, and
hurt now that any attention had been placed upon them. And that was just from her own surface thoughts! Sundance might not have been the most keen on using flames as a solution to all problems, but boy could she shine a light at all the bile in her head.
Sue wasn't even sure if she could be helped. She felt just about confident enough to try, but doubted said confidence would last long. Either way, that had to wait for a bit longer—she was there. She had to shield her eyes from the late afternoon sun as she made it up the last few steps, about to push on the door before her—
But then; she heard a familiar, if distressing, sound from the inside.
She brought her head to the ajar door, peeking in at what was going on as she listened to Joy's distress. To the best of her ability to make out, everyone else was feeling perfectly alright in both looks and feelings alike. Sundance was still lying on a couple pillows, drawing sketches both on the stone floor and whichever scraps of wood were lying around. Twinkle was happily accompanying her in that, and so was Comet; the latter's excitable scribbles interrupted at Joy's unrest. Spark was comfortably snuggled into her mom, woofing quietly at the metal girl. Joy was a few paces away from all of them, facing them with an uneasy expression as her maw shuddered.
As much as it hurt to see Joy scared, Sue was hesitant to step in—the last thing she wanted to do was startle her further. And yet, it looked like there wasn't another way of handling that, not with the girl only growing more and more upset by the moment. She was tired; she was confused, and more than anything she was scared—and Sundance's words weren't helping, despite the vixen's clear effort. Neither was Spark's help once the kit had tried to slowly approach the girl with concern in her woofs, only prompting louder cries from the toothy tyke.
Once Joy's shudders had turned into scared squeaks and her maw lifted from its idle position behind her, though, the Forest Guardian knew she had to do
something, even if the sight and sound of those metal teeth rattling together still intimidated her. Waiting no further, Sue knocked on the door and stepped in, not even having the time to speak up before Joy was already racing towards her, whimpering as she clung to her good leg.
Something bad had clearly happened here, but figuring out what exactly could wait.
C'mere, sweetie.
Pushing through the aching in her leg and horn alike, Sue kneeled and picked up the crying, frightened child into her arms. She held her tight as she walked to the chair she sat in last time, taking her time in case walking closer to others would spook Joy further. Fortunately, it didn't. The girl was much too focused on clinging to her guardian to notice much of her surroundings anymore.
Just a few feet away, all the scary noise and the return of their guardian had pulled Twinkle away from their own drawing. They shuddered in place, confused and withdrawing their tentacles into the confines of their bag. Sue continued to whisper reassurances to Joy as she watched for the little ghost under her care, passing Sundance a concerned look. Seeing the vixen be as uncertain as she was didn't help any, but at least the scene was finally down.
As spooked as Twinkle was, they thankfully only needed a small nudge to scramble to their guardian. With a gentle tap and a quiet whisper from the older vixen in the room, they outstretched their tentacles again and scooted towards Sue, picking up the pace with each little dash. Behind them, Spark followed too, mindful enough to limit herself to laying beside Sue's leg instead of joining the other kids on her lap.
Despite all the tension moments prior, things seemed to be in the clear. Even more so once the bundle of ghost had joined the toothy girl on Sue's lap, pressing into her torso. She knew of no mental magic that could help them calm faster, but steady breaths while being held by someone trustworthy were a foolproof cure for that already. And, especially in Joy's case, there was another thing she could do, unnerving as it still was.
Scared or not, there was a girl to comfort, and the worst of her fear was already behind her. Nothing bad should happen if she'd just—
Sue
was anticipating the tip of Joy's maw to grab her hand again, but she certainly didn't expect that to happen before she'd even touched it. It was briefly startling, but the shift in the girl's emotions was immediate, her whimpers ceasing basically instantly.
One toothy tyke clinging to one side—check. One bundle of ghost wrapped tight around her other side—check.
One messy situation she'd walked in on but which was now easing up, check.
With Sue's right hand temporarily immobilized, the left one had to pick up the slack. It moved between all the gathered heads, bags and maws, cooling off a bit of the turbulent emotions with each touch. All that was missing were words, something that Sundance would help immensely with.
"Sundance?" Sue whispered, perking both kids' heads. "Could you—"
The vixen nodded. "Done, worry not. It's good to see you back, Sue. I apologize for such a situation awaiting you."
Joy clung tighter as she heard Sundance's words, the small pang of negative emotion not missed on either psychic. "What happened, though?" the Forest Guardian asked, more stunned than accusatory.
"Joy woke up a few minutes ago and was scared to see you not be here," the vixen explained. "I tried to calm her down afterwards, but I... mishandled it, to say the least. I'm sorry, Joy. I didn't mean to scare you."
The metal girl listened intently to the woofed words, their contents much more understandable now that fright wasn't gripping her mind anymore. As scary as this situation was, if unintentionally, her big friend and guardian was here now, and that's all that mattered.
And said guardian wanted to help, too. "I'm here Joy, I'm here. You got scared bad, didn't you?" Silence filled the room for a few moments as the girl processed the questions, calming down as she responded with a handful of quiet nods. Sue continued, "That bad man from before we got here scared you bad and it hurt, and I'm very sorry."
Judging by Joy's whimper at the mere mention of these events, she might've just nailed it. The sound, compared with the flash of terror, left Comet startled as well. He put down his little drawing before scrambling towards the nearest adult, the worst of the fear not lasting long before Sundance's warmth melted through it. Sue smiled weakly at his antics, and at the confirmation of her hunch.
Still, as much as acknowledging what had happened helped, it wasn't an immediate cure by itself. Sue continued her silent reassurance—that Joy was seen, that her emotions were normal and justified. And, a few moments later, that she was safe. "I'm here for you, Joy. You're safe here, I promise."
"I-I-I... safe," Joy whimpered, more so to herself than to anyone else. Sue had to keep a grip on herself to not startle her with a tight hug, whole body yearning to comfort the girl as much and as fast as it could. Alas, had to take it easy. The progress they've already had was plenty reassuring.
"Yes, you're safe, Joy. And so are you, Twinkle. I'm sorry about what happened earlier. A bad man scared and hurt us, but he's not here anymore. We're safe," Sue continued, spreading some of her affection to the little ghost. She cursed herself quietly for overlooking them until now and only focusing her efforts on Joy, but on a rational level, she knew such slip-ups were expected. Especially since Twinkle's method of expressing fear was quiet withdrawal as opposed to panicked whimpers.
Something, something, forgive myself. Let's stop distracting myself any further with my nonsense.
Addressing the elephant in the room helped, but the reassurance took its time to fully worm itself in. The brief splashes of fear in both kids' psyche at being reminded of the event took Sue aback. For a few long, terrifying moments, she wondered whether she had made a grave mistake by bringing it up, whether she shouldn't have just waited until they forgot it on their own. Thankfully, the distress didn't last long once her words caught up with the kids' memories—even if Joy's little mind wasn't quite done with getting over its recent scare after waking up.
But Sue was here. They were safe with her. She loved them; she was their guardian; she was there for them. She was their—
"I'm sorry for not being here when you woke up, Joy," Sue continued, sensing that lingering thread in her mind. "I was..." she drifted off, torn between wanting to keep them in the loop and not spilling any of her muck onto them. "I was feeling bad too, and I wanted to be alone for a while."
Sue monitored both kids' emotions as she provided her simplified explanation, keeping watch of anything bad creeping into their minds again. So far, so good. "I was feeling bad, but it wasn't because of you, I promise. I love you both, and I want to be here for you as much as I can." Continued success; no fear or self-consciousness yet. That's not to say that her words didn't elicit
any emotion in the young listeners, though, taking their guardian aback as the leftovers of their fear turned into a desire to comfort.
Their—their guardian was feeling bad. And they didn't want her to feel bad.
One breath, two breaths, any expression of emotion more intense than a wobbly smile averted—Sue could continue. She was about to do so even—before a quiet, harsh voice caught her attention first. "H-hope good you..." Joy spoke, her words the clearest ones Sue had heard yet.
It sure didn't help with making her smile even wobblier, ha.
"I'm feeling good now, thank you Joy," Sue beamed. With the topic having swung around to something more positive, Sue was keen to get the most out of it, continuing, "There are other people out there that helped me calm down and feel better. Just like there are others that want to help you, too, because I won't always be here," she added.
Both kids reacted by clinging to her that bit closer, each processing their own brief pangs of fear at the reminder that Sue was her own person and, as such, lived her own life. It was unfair! Sue made them feel safe, and they didn't want to feel unsafe. They wanted her to always be there for them. The selfish thought lingered in both their minds, but was weakened soon after by the reassurance that came afterwards.
"I-I know it's scary when I'm not here. But~, there are many people you can trust and that will keep you safe even if I'm not here." Direct as that reassurance was, it could only do so much—even once it was accompanied with an example. "Sundance will look after you when I'm not here. I know she might look a bit scary and unfamiliar, but she's a friend. You can trust her."
"Yeah! Y-you can trust mom!
*Ow,*" Spark added happily. The older vixen herself remained quiet at the shout out, holding her chuckles in as she just opted to wave at the pair of kids on Sue's lap. Comet, being Comet, joined in on the waving, underlining the fun gesture with a drawn-out squeak that sent the rest of the room giggling.
Sue kept her hand on the pulse of the two little ones, literal and emotional alike. She'd been keeping them calm enough so far, especially with Spark and Comet's help, but was worrying about how much she'd actually end up accomplishing. Especially since, as her brain murk was eager to point out, their fears
were right to an extent. Not about them being unsafe without her specifically, but rather being unsafe whether she was there or not.
Postured as she may about keeping them safe and being there for them, once push came to shove earlier today, once it was just her, them, and someone that wanted to hurt them—what did she even do? Nothing; she just stood there paralyzed, just like Joy. She was supposed to be their guardian, someone they could trust for more than just idle words about being loved and safe, trust that she'd be able to back up her words with actions. But she couldn't.
She was just too weak. She could and
should be doing more to protect them, but for that, she had to get stronger. Strong enough to keep them safe from Nightbane; from Solanum; from everyone who'd ever hurt them; from
them, the bad people that only wanted to hurt the ones she loved—
No, stop.
Before Sue knew it, it was her heart that was racing the hardest of everyone around. She held the two little ones that bit closer as she calmed down, immensely relieved that neither of them noticed her turn for the worse. Joy was conflicted between wanting to follow Sue's words and trust the big vixen, and still feeling just a bit too spooked to do so. Twinkle, however, seemed to have entirely calmed down. Though with their mind feeling more like a glowing cloud than a single point of light, it was quite hard to tell.
There were a couple more things she could say and do to help them further in feeling better, too. Sliding her free hand under Joy's seat, Sue gently lifted her into her arms, all the while tilting the elbow of her other hand for Twinkle to grab onto to pull themselves closer to her heartbeat. It took a while for the ghost to notice, but once both kids had shifted to a closer position, the effect was almost immediate, if slight.
She wasn't done yet, though.
"I'm proud of you for staying here while I was away," she beamed, feeling Twinkle's spectral embrace loosen a bit. "And even if you got a bit scared, that's all good, too. I'm so, so proud of both of you."
For the first time since she got back, Sue saw a smile creep its way onto Joy's face. Before she even knew it, it had reflected onto her face too, bright and proud as the girl relaxed—and Twinkle concentrated. Moving the hand of the arm that held Joy closer to the lil' ghost, Sue carefully stroked the fabric of their bag, giving them all the time they needed to put their thoughts together. Sundance focused alongside them, soon putting words to Twinkle's ethereal feelings—
"C-c-can stay here?" Joy cut in, oblivious to what was happening less than a foot away from her. Her high-pitched squeaks and growls cut the vixen off and sent Sue giggling—both at the badly timed words and what they implied. She didn't mind Joy sitting on her lap one bit, but having the girl be asking for that while still holding onto her hand with the tip of her very toothy maw was... amusing. Suppose that was just such a natural thing for her, she didn't even realize anyone else
could mind.
Adorable.
The best kind of amusing, lighting Sue's face up as she nodded firmly and answered, "Of course! Stay here as long as you want, Joy. We're not rushing anywhere." Obvious as the answer was, Joy appreciated it being stated out loud all the same. She wasn't feeling tired, but wanted to wait some more before trying to engage with the world around her, and neither of the adults around minded.
Neither did the other kids, for that matter. "Yeah! I hope you're feeling better—
*ow*—Joy!" Spark woofed out, putting on her brightest smile before withdrawing into her mom's comforting presence. Guess if Joy wouldn't be joining them soon, there was no point to her friend waiting there just in case—especially while still feeling so crummy.
Alas, said crumminess persevered, even with Comet dropping everything he was doing to squeeze all he could reach of the younger vixen, hoping to make her feel better. Mission accomplished, if not the intended way.
While Joy got her bearings in silence, it was time to focus on her fellow little one. Sue resumed her affection of Twinkle's bag as she whispered, "Did you want to say something, Twinkle?"
Being put on the spot made them flinch a bit, especially after Joy had interrupted them moments prior, but a beaming smile and a warm presence did wonders for melting through their hesitation. And so, with the vixen's help, finally came the words:
"When I feel bad, I alone too..."
Sue put on a reassuring smile at the translation, lowering Joy down to free the hand that wasn't being held by the girl's maw, before comforting the little ghost with it. Before she could even respond about how that was all okay and that some people want to be alone when scared while others want to be with others, though, Twinkle continued.
"N-n-not like..."
Their guardian blinked, taken aback. She thought back to the Nightbane incident again, trying to ignore her fellow Forest Guardian while recalling how Twinkle behaved through it all. It was hard to remember, and she soon realized why—they just didn't do anything. They withdrew all the way into her bag, pressed against her, and just stayed there, silent, without as much as feeling afraid in any way that Sue's senses could pick up.
All of which didn't
quite sound like just being afraid. "When you're 'alone' like that," Sue began, lifting the tiny ghost closer to her face, "does everything else grow... more quiet?" It was the best phrasing for dissociation Sue could come up with on the spot, and she dearly hoped they'd understand her intent.
For once, her hopes were fruitful.
"Very quiet. Very far away, like before Sue..."
Deep breaths kept the pang of tearful pain at Twinkle's admission from crawling all the way up to Sue's face, letting her maintain composure as she held the small bag close to her chest. The implications of the discussion—and how unpleasant the sensation involved was—were lost on Joy. That didn't mean she'd ever skip on helping someone else out if she felt capable of it, and the little ghost was just about the only being around smaller than herself. She scrambled to her feet on Sue's lap, digging into the Forest Guardian's thighs as she reached up to dispense some of her own affection; what remained of earlier fears was replaced by hopes that they'd feel better.
"I'm so sorry you felt like that, Twinkle. That is a very unpleasant sensation," Sue began, idly stroking the fabric separating her thumb from the ghost's true body. "Me and Sundance are here to help if you feel afraid or bad. It's hard to not hide, but it will feel better when we're here to comfort you."
All this would've been absolutely impossible to explain to any kid even close to their age back on Earth, hah.
Sue wasn't deluding herself that her somewhat vague explanations would induce sudden and permanent change for the better, certainly not in kids this young. At best, it'd nudge them in the right direction, with much of the needed growth ahead being entirely in their court as they got more in control of, and conscious of, their emotions. They'd probably not stop being entirely afraid whenever she was gone anytime soon, but Sue hoped she'd at least be able to nudge them towards seeking comfort in others as opposed to growing terrified or freezing up.
On that note. "Have you been feeling safe here, with Sundance?" Sue asked, briefly moving one hand to pet Joy's maw.
Thankfully, the girl didn't grow self-conscious at the question, merely listening closer as Twinkle answered,
"Yes... Warm, nice..." It was just what Sue was wishing for, hoping that seeing the ghost's confidence would inspire some of it in the girl as well. To her surprise, though, Twinkle wasn't done yet, following up with a question of their own:
"When you alone, it help...?"
Ack, that was a tricky one. One was taking a walk to clear her thoughts, the other was hollow, fear-gripped dissociation, and she worried about having mixed them up in Twinkle's mind. Then again... it wasn't like the connection was entirely without merit. Her earlier departure was basically a flight response to Twinkle's typical freeze, and it was only by talking through it with Daisy and others that she actually calmed down.
...
Yeah, that's the point.
"Hmm... being alone
can help, but talking with others can help even more. When I went on a walk, I didn't feel good until I talked to Daisy and saw what she and others were doing." There, a simple answer that hopefully redirected the ghost where she wanted them to go.
Joy was listening keenly, too, but for other reasons. 'Daisy' was a name she recognized! She was always nice to her whenever she passed by their daycare. Even gave her a snack when she was clinging to Mrs. Splitleaf after getting scared one time. She liked Daisy, and now that someone else she liked a lot had brought her up, she wanted to hear more. "D-D-Daisy! What she do?"
Sue couldn't remember seeing Joy this excited, her smile threatening to split her head. "Oh, you know Daisy!"
"Y-yes! She nice," Joy answered, tripping over words less and less.
"She cuts stone for the buildings in Moonview, sweetie. I watched her do it and then talked with her about how important it is to forgive yourself when you make a mistake."
"Did it help?" Sundance asked, her woofs pulling Sue's attention from the two tykes on her lap. Sundance was equal parts curious and hopeful, and the words that followed soothed both those emotions.
"Yes, it did. So, so much."
A part of Sue wanted to keep going, to ride that wave of feeling better in order to address the things that still troubled her—but not with the kids in earshot. She figured that them knowing that she felt bad earlier was fair, but any specifics were best avoided.
You'd need to cut them off from the translation—actually, hold on.
Sundance blinked at the sudden swerve in her pupil's thoughts, looking up at her from her laying position as she waited for a follow-up. Before doing anything else, Sue wanted to put a bow on the conversation she was already having. Joy, however, knew what she wanted to see the next chance she got, enthralled by what she understood of Sue's recollection. "Want see Daisy!"
"Awww," Sue swooned. "It's late and I'm tired right now, so we can't go there today. I'm sorry."
"T-tomorrow?" Joy asked without skipping a beat, sparking laughter from both her guardian and the vixen.
"We will see, Joy," Sundance answered.
"Yes, we will! And the last thing—Joy, Copper said he hopes you're doing better."
The name didn't ring a bell in the girl's head right away. Sue wasn't particularly eager to go into charades to describe him, but figured it'd be necessary. "He's pink with wings and—"
*shudder*
Yep, now she knows who I'm talking about.
In spite of Sue's worries, though, Joy didn't react to the news any more intensely than with a bit of shaking. Maybe she took the well-wishes to heart, maybe she just wasn't as afraid of him now in general after their partially forced reconciliation yesterday. Either way, Sue was still proud of her.
"For now... Joy, Twinkle. Me and Sundance will be talking about some adult things, and you won't be able to understand us for a while. And don't worry—you can stay on my lap if you want to." To Sue's relief, her heads-up achieved the desired effect while avoiding stirring any worry. Both the little ones nodded to the best extent their respective anatomies allowed them to, though they weren't eager to move anywhere else.
More than fine by Sue.
Without skipping a beat, Joy and Twinkle felt a squirmy sensation in their heads as the translation was pulled away from them, leaving just the two adults, each with two kids under their watch. Sundance had it arguably easier, between half-asleep Spark not being eager to move much from her comfort and Comet having scooted back to scribbling on a plank of wood with charcoal.
It was time to dig into the murk that went deeper than anything she'd talked about with Daisy. "Now it's just us two, right?" Sue asked.
"^Indeed. I am really glad to see you doing better, Sue,^" Sundance answered, switching to telepathy.
"S-so am I, yeah. The chat with Daisy really helped a lot. She stressed all about how I should forgive myself if I make a mistake, how that's the path to actually getting better and making up for anything bad like that, and more importantly how being harsh on myself only makes it all shameful and awful."
The vixen smiled, absentmindedly ruffling Spark's tummy. "^All very helpful observations, I imagine.^"
"They are, and they helped me feel better after...
*sigh*, did I tell you about what happened with Northeast?" Sue asked, deflated at the realization she'd have to run it by the vixen.
"^Hmmm...^" Sundance trailed off, claws tapping against the stone floor. "She never struck me as the sort to engage in personal spats, so I
am curious."
"Oh, it's just—I got really angry at her yesterday when she was asking me questions about what happened to you, and at some point I just... snapped and screamed at her and upset her. That was when you were comatose, and just earlier today I spotted her while out with Solstice and had a chance to apologize, but I didn't. Got too self-conscious, felt awful, and kinda just ended up running away and feeling even worse afterwards. I still have to apologize to her, and what I talked about with Daisy will help with that, though."
The vixen listened intently to her pupil's explanations, finding the mental image of the meek Sue yelling at anyone to be... quite comedic, in all honesty. Still, it certainly wasn't funny for either Sue or Northeast when it happened, and so Sundance kept that observation to herself. Instead, she touched on a different point. "^I see. Best of luck with apologizing to her. From your phrasing, however, it seems as if that wasn't
the event that left you upset.^"
Sue sighed weakly. "No, no it wasn't, it was... it was thinking about Aurora, and about what Solstice said."
To the once-human's relief, her mentor was still on the same page. "^That does seem the right topic to talk about, indeed. Both you and Solstice grew rather upset before you headed out for Dewdrop. Could you go over what exactly sparked this foul mood? If you feel you can and want to, of course.^"
"No no, don't worry, I—I want to. It's just..." Sue trailed off, looking for something to latch her focus onto. The sunroof above, together with the deities dancing around it, made for a right target. More so because of the latter than the former, though. As pretty as the gradually yellowing light of the outside was, the divinely inspired dolls inspired nothing but spite and contempt in the Forest Guardian, Duck included, sobering her up for just long enough to start talking. "Earlier, when we were all talking about Twinkle's costume, Solstice brought up her kin and their markings after I made a crass joke."
"^I would argue it wasn't crass, but—please continue, Sue,^" Sundance reassured.
"R-right. Then, at the end, she just said—
*sigh*, she mentioned how Solanum and Nightbane weren't really deserving of those markings, right? And after that, she added I deserve them more than they do. And—and I know that this was just a small offhand comment, it wasn't her focusing and officially decreeing me worthy of that or whatever, but..." Sue trailed off, the free hand nervously flexing as she desperately searched for the right words to continue with.
Words that her mentor was keen to provide. "^It stuck with you?^"
"Yes, that—that's a valid way of describing that. It stuck with me real bad, and then I—oh? Twinkle?"
The movement on her lap cut Sue's increasingly wobbly recollection off as she watched the bagful of ghost scoot towards Joy. The spectral embrace that followed was abrupt and weak enough to just leave the metal girl confused as she and her guardian watched Twinkle let go of them both and climb down onto the floor. After one last moment of hesitation, they scooted back to where Comet was playing with their drawings, the Martian tyke squeaking in elation at their tiny friend having returned.
Without saying a word, Sundance psychiced over some more wooden scrap for them to draw on, together with another stick of charcoal. She then nudged Comet further away after sensing them wanting to use the little ghost's outfit as more canvas for their doodles, before refocusing on Sue once more. "^Alright. Would you be able to say
why it stuck with you as much as it had?^"
The answer was simultaneously already obvious and obscured to her consciousness, veiled by layers upon layers of denying herself what her innermost desires were already clear about. She wrapped her free arm around Joy, holding the girl tighter and sending her into weak giggles as her tiny arms wrapped themselves around Sue's. Some of her wanted to pretend she didn't know, to avoid being direct with what her heart was yearning for, to not have to face something that was so stark inside her, but which hurt like a motherfucker to think about.
Then again, not like it hasn't hurt me plenty today already. Least I can do is get back at it. Take that... me, you piece of shit.
...
...
Something tells me I shouldn't have thought that either.
With that bit of motivation in mind, fueled further by recalling yesterday's lesson with the vixen about being honest about her desires, Sue focused. She thought harder than she ever did, pushing through the pain and actually trying to examine the unsightly wound in her mind, as well as what had fueled it.
And, even more importantly, just what desire that wound was trying to mask.
"So, I... I don't know much about those tattoos, but Solstice said a thing or two about them yesterday," Sue began. "Obviously, they mean a lot to her people, and I know she still really cares about it even if most of her people suck—or at least her relatives, sorry—"
"^You need not apologize, Sue,^" Sundance reassured, trying her hardest to conceal a chuckle at Sue's phrasing.
"Right. So even with all that, the tattoos mean a lot to her, and more importantly, they're a kind of family thing, right? She told me it's the family that's supposed to... unsure what's the word, paint them on you. So then when she mentioned I deserved them more than her actual family, it really got me thinking. A-and—" Sue froze, the pain of having to put those vulnerable desires to words almost stealing her breath whole. It was so, so hard.
And yet, she persevered. "And I want it, the tattoos, that—that connection with her, but I don't know whether Solstice meant it that way. She could've just been joking and now here I am, completely misinterpreting and making a joke out of myself. A-and after all, even if she did, that's still terrifying because what would Aurora think about that!"
Sue observed Sundance's reactions, waiting for a response. To her worry, it kept not coming, the vixen only offering her a gradually creeping eyebrow in response. Guess she had to elaborate on it some more, as much as even thinking about that hurt. "I-I mean, that's really
the thing that left me feeling awful. Just the thought of what Aurora would think about me just stepping in here and wanting something—something that Fate took away from her. Just thinking about this is making me feel awful, and it was why I was so off before I left with Solstice, and then that whole mess-up with Northeast happened and it left me feeling ten times worse."
To the Forest Guardian's relief, the vixen was finally satisfied, putting together words as her pupil leaned back into her seat. Sue shook harder than she ever did, perking up Joy and making her check up on her guardian. Her smile was shaky, and the moment of stillness she disguised her anxiety with was fleeting, but it was just enough to keep the metal girl from growing worried.
The last thing she needs is to be concerned about someone like me.
Sundance was taking her time coming up with a response, leaving Sue uneasy. Was that loathing voice actually true, and her mentor was trying her hardest to look for something feeble to contradict it with? That'd be funny.
...
No, it would not be funny, it would be fucking dreadful; the mere thought enough to send Sue's heart rate spiking—
*squeeeeak!*
The high-pitched noise came through just in time to drag Sue away from the precipice of a deep, deep hole, pulling her attention towards a much more adorable sight. She remembered just how rattled Twinkle got when Comet pulled them into a sudden hug yesterday. They still weren't perfectly calm this time, but they pushed on and scooted towards Sundance for comfort instead of withdrawing again—and the lil' Moon Child gladly followed, always eager for some warmth from what was basically his aunt.
And that extra bit of comfort finally made Sundance's response come together, delivered once she was done ruffling Comet's hair. "^How much do you know about Aurora, Sue?^"
Sue expected several questions, but not this one. It felt like she was about to be asked about assorted trivia, about things that Aurora would've known as a
real Forest Guardian, but which she, a pretender, could never hope to experience. It would be wildly out of character for Sundance to do, too. The thought provided enough of a life raft for the once-human to not panic there and then as she answered, "V-very little. All I really know is that she was Solstice's daughter; she tragically died when the plague hit Moonview, and... th-that's it, really."
It was an entirely honest answer—and one that Sundance immediately pounced on. "^Why would you think she would be displeased if Solstice were to adopt you and give you the Pale Lady's blessings, then?^" Seeing her pupil's eyes immediately going wide, she added, "^I really want you to focus on that question Sue, as much as it'll be likely to hurt.^"
Hurt... wasn't on Sue's mind once she followed her mentor's instructions. More than anything, she was taken aback by the vixen's frank phrasing, making her feel like she'd been flashbanged. Trying to put that moment to good use, Sue gave the task an honest attempt, putting herself in the dead Forest Guardian's shoes and really trying to imagine how it'd be like if, say, the roles were reversed. If it was her observing the scene from beyond, watching her human mom adopt a daughter a few years after she'd passed away.
She wanted to be angry, wanted to answer Sundance's question that way, but she just... couldn't. No matter how hard she tried to get mad at her hypothetical mom and the hypothetical daughter said mom was to adopt, she just couldn't do it. Her mom would be heartbroken after that had happened to her, but she wouldn't have used another kid as a replacement; she wasn't that shallow and selfish. A-and even if she somehow
had, it'd only be her that Sue would be mad about, and not the poor orphan given a second chance at life.
But this isn't about my mom and me, though, it's not comparable in that way. It's not some random orphan replacing me, it's me replacing Aurora. It's so much worse.
Whatever progress Sue might've made, the stray thought undid them all in an instant. It almost made her double over as she whispered, "Wh-why
wouldn't she be angry with me?"
Sundance... laughed.
It took Sue aback just at how unexpected her response was. Fortunately, words followed the canine sound up before her shock could turn into more hurt. "^Well, I
could tell you about how Aurora didn't have an envious bone in her body. I
could tell you about how she just kept asking Solstice and Jasper for a younger sister ever since she evolved. But... hah, we both know that isn't what all this is
truly about, is it?^"
"Wh-why wouldn't it be?" Sue answered, dumbfounded.
"^Because you don't know Aurora, Sue. I don't mean that as an accusation, but in how you're entirely working off assumptions about how she'd behave towards you. And, yes—that is how all social interaction works, to an extent. Each of us has assumptions about how the other will respond whenever we interact with them, built from our biases, our experience, our hopes, and so on and so on. With Aurora, however... you're basing your assumptions off nothing concrete, merely off her being Solstice's daughter.^"
Sue half-sighed, half-groaned, not appreciating what sounded like a massive tangent towards some random semantics. She almost wanted to refuse this thread of discussion out of spite, to rudely ask what the point was—but in the end, a part of her wanted to see where the vixen was going with this. "Sure, I suppose."
"^Good!^" the vixen beamed. "^Now, the big question is as such: where do these assumptions come from? You aren't basing them off on any knowledge about Aurora, but they come from
somewhere. And that somewhere is likely deep in your mind. You'll have to dig to find out where they're coming from—and that process will hurt. And it is even more important because it will hurt.^"
Again, a silly tangent. The answer was... not immediately apparent, but obvious once it had emerged from the recesses of her mind. "I mean... I just wouldn't be a good daughter. That's—that's all there is to it."
Sue didn't even notice how much harder she had to fight to keep her expression steady after that thought.
At the opposite end of the room, the vixen lifted an eyebrow once more. "^Why so? Why wouldn't you be a good daughter? Why wouldn't you, the whole of you, be enough?^" Sundance asked, each question stabbing again and again at a mental wound Sue didn't even know was there. "^Aurora wasn't some magically perfect person, and Solstice definitely isn't either. They both had flaws and shortcomings, as do all of us—why would you be any different? Why would you be 'not good enough' for them?^"
Sue tried to maintain whatever cool she had left as the questions hit her like a series of blows, each hurting more and more. Her expression had turned into a strained grimace, her gaze jumped to anywhere but the vixen; she was only barely keeping the hand Joy was holding with her maw from clenching tight. Deep down, there was only one true answer to that question, one that Sue ended up whispering before she could think of something to cover it up with.
"Because I've never been."
*sq-squeak-growl?*
The sound of Joy's untranslated speech made Sue freeze, unable to simultaneously process Sundance's words and respond to the girl. The vixen had her back, calmly responding to the toothy girl, "^Sue is busy right now. Yes, you can come over here, don't worry.^" Joy nodded intently, hopping off Sue's lap and onto the stone floor before breaking into a quick dash—
And forgetting to let go of Sue's hand with her maw before she did so.
As startling as the sudden yank was, the Forest Guardian was more thankful than anything. She hastily put on a smile for Joy before leaning back into her seat, dropping anything that remained of her pretense of being okay the moment the girl joined the other kids with their drawings. She wanted to laugh at the mishap, to let it take the pressure off for just a moment—but the relief kept not coming.
She was in too deep, so close to the wound at the bottom of her mind that any wrong move threatened to make her implode. At least, that's what it felt like as she sat in the wooden chair, hands shaking and tears rolling down her cheeks without her having any idea when she'd even started crying. There was only one way to go from here.
Down, down, down.
"^If it's okay for me to continue—how was your relationship with your parents, Sue?^" Sundance asked, noticeably more hesitant.
Contrary to the vixen's woes, that was a topic that Sue had more of a grasp on—at least the 'bad' parts of it. "D-did Solstice tell you about... about what happened when I ran into her at the cemetery?"
"^Only in the broadest of strokes. If you feel you can handle it, I'd appreciate hearing it from you.^"
Oh, this was perfect. Sue's been through this before, and while it hurt like a motherfucker, she felt at least somewhat in control of the traumatic memory. Without skipping a beat, she gave Sundance the rundown, avoiding lingering on any point for too long. "When I was six, which is a bit younger than Spark is right now—I-I think—my mom died in a tragic accident. A-and I saw it happen."
"^I'm very sorry for your loss, Sue.^" Sundance answered quietly, pulling the almost-asleep Spark into a gentle hug.
There, perfect delivery. Sue didn't linger, didn't think, didn't break down. Only went over the parts that matter, and none of the—
But then, to her horror, Sundance continued: "^What happened afterwards?^"
Sue felt her entire body stiffen. This wasn't supposed to have been the important part; the rest of her childhood was normal. Why was she being asked about this? "Uh, n-nothing really..." she tried to deflect.
And was instantly seen through. "^I would still want to hear about it. It affected you just as much as the accident itself.^"
But there wasn't anything wrong with it!
The Forest Guardian tried to catch her breath, to recenter herself and continue the tale without losing her cool—and felt unable to. And yet, she had to, letting the tears flow as she put effort into keeping her voice from wobbling too much. "D-dad never remarried and raised me on his own. We weren't well off or anything, but we w-weren't poor either and we made it work. A-a-and before you ask," Sue subconsciously raised her tone, "he—he wasn't ever abusive towards me! He did the best he could with what he had; he wasn't a bad dad!"
Not an assertion Sundance was about to dispute. It wasn't the point, anyway. "^How did he process your mom's loss?^" she asked.
Sue flinched, the memories much foggier than she would've wanted. "W-well, he was really sad about it, a-and cried most days for a while. I mean, I—I did too. I don't blame him; that's just how you go through stuff like that, you know."
"^Did he talk to you about the accident?^"
"Oh no, o-of course not; why would he? It'd just be more pain for both of us; we already knew what had happened all too well and just had to keep on living, you know. After a while he stopped crying mostly, a-and then I stopped seeing him be sad about it, so I tried to stop being sad too. He spent a lot of his time at work anyway, really had to work hard to make ends meet. It was 2008 and—" Sue cut herself off, trying and failing to figure out a way of conveying the year's significance to Sundance. "Those were bad times a-and he had to work really hard. He was a bit absent in hindsight, b-b-but I DON'T BLAME HIM OR ANYTHING!" Sue shouted, teeth halfway bared.
The tears were flowing freely at that point, and it was only thanks to Sundance's active intervention that the entire room wasn't growing alarmed. All the little ones but Spark were separated by a faint, shimmering barrier, not noticed by Sue in her turmoil. She hurt, the pain downright radiating from her—but they weren't done yet. They were close, though. The vixen could feel it. "^What happened then?^"
Sue breathed as deeply as she could, with her entire body hurting this much. This was a much more innocuous question, and after all, nothing was wrong. She just had to answer it. "I-I mean, it kinda stayed like that. He spent a lot of time at work. I mostly just stayed at home after school. Spent a lot of time on the inter—that won't make any sense and I don't think I can explain it right now. J-just, stuff I could do on my own. Dad—dad didn't have much time to take me places, so I stopped asking. I mean, he was already having to support us both and raise me by himself, so I don't—don't blame him. He really tried his best, a-and never hurt me or anything."
"^Did you two do much together?^"
The once-human weaved her fingers together as half her body shuddered in nervous tics, hurt from wounds long past rattling her body. She kept trying to focus. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was ever wrong.
Can this FUCKING body stop crying already!?
"I mean... n-no, not really. He kept trying to take me places for a while, like we used to before, but... it just never felt right without mom. We kept trying and then we just eventually stopped. B-b-but again, that's normal! He was busy with work and worked his ass off and just didn't have the time! Besides, I was a little shit sometimes. I would've been a challenge for any parents, let alone a single father! He was doing his best; he loved me and I loved him! It's not his fault!"
Sundance nodded slowly in response. Sue hoped beyond hope she was convincing her that there was nothing else to find down this dark path of her memories, because NOTHING WAS WRONG. HER DAD DID NOTHING WRONG AND SHE WASN'T BLAMING HIM FOR ANYTHING. She didn't want to think about this, and judging by all the cold wetness flowing down her neck, neither did her body.
And yet, she had to.
"^I see. If you couldn't go places together, did you talk together often?^" the vixen continued.
Finally, something simple and reassuring. "O-of course! We talked every day after I got back from school a-and he from work, over dinner."
And yet, the questions wouldn't stop coming. "^What did you talk about on these occasions?^"
"Y-y'know, just normal stuff," Sue answered offhandedly. "H-how was my school, how was his work, dinner, the weather and such. Sometimes I'd ask him if he was planning to take us places, but he never did because we always had to save money. A-and again I DON'T blame him, we had to save money for college and just in case! And he didn't have much to save in the first place, so we just couldn't do much, but he was trying his best."
"^What about talking about things important to you?^"
Sue opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. She tried a few more times, churning through the murk of her memory to find something, anything to bring up on that front, anything that wasn't the end of his life or that one ANNOYING memory that kept popping up. It was bad, whatever, not something she should've been dwelling on; there had to be something else, ANYTHING else!
Please let there be something else.
"We-we didn't do that much either. I..." she drifted off. Tried as she did, there was nothing—nothing she
wanted to bring up, at least. That annoying memory wasn't the only one of its sort, but it was the starkest. Sue hoped that if she'd just go through it, just get it over with while replacing the term 'flash game' for something Sundance would understand better, then she'd be able to redirect the conversation where it should've gone to begin with.
"There was one time when I was... ten or eleven or so. I really got into a—a small game, you could say. It was just a small dumb thing, a toy basically, nothing—nothing actually important. It was dumb, b-but I liked playing it and got quite invested into it, more than I should've been. I was just a dumb kid like that. Got invested, e-even a bit excited, a-and I wanted to tell dad about it. He had a long day, he was already quite annoyed, and I just didn't notice and he was nice enough to not speak up or anything. I just began rambling about it, about all the characters I liked and so on and he listened and nodded. A-and after a while he asked if I could talk about books with him some other time since he was busy, a-a-and I realized he hadn't even been listening and—"
IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP
Sue tried to see, but her eyes were too blurry from all the tears. She wanted to breathe, to continue, but her sobs wouldn't let her. Her hands were clenched together, her expression was twisted in pain, and she couldn't stop crying. It hurt too much to stop—but it shouldn't have! She shouldn't be hurting; nothing had gone wrong! It was just a dumb memory of her being a dumb kid; there was nothing there to
actually hurt her! Nothing like with Mom, at least!
And yet, it kept hurting, and Sue kept crying.
Despite Sundance's best efforts, Comet eventually noticed the excess despair, letting out a quiet whimper as he tried to look over his shoulder. The vixen intervened fast enough to distract him back and prevent the two other tykes from noticing, keeping tabs on Sue's mental state while at it. Immense pain, but... nothing unexpected, sadly. There was only one way this could've gone from the very start.
Spark might've not been attuned to Sue's emotions, and wasn't feeling as well—or as awake—as she would've liked, but she could still hear Sue's sobs. The sound stirred her back to awareness as she climbed out of her mom's comfort and onto her own four legs, gasping at the state her friend was in. Before her mom could ask her to wait, the kit was already dashing towards her tall friend, nudging her leg with her wet snout.
Sue jerked back at the sensation, pried her eyes wide open as the lil' fox jumped onto her lap and began dispensing affection—and doubled over once more, holding Spark as close as she could with her shaking arms. Seconds turned to minutes as the sound of weeping filled the room, the burning pain deep inside Sue leaving her one sob at a time. It couldn't last forever, but it sure felt like it would, like she'd be stuck here, unable to move on by herself—
She wasn't alone, though.
"^Sue, how are you feeling?^" Sundance asked, concern clear in her voice.
Having a question to respond to hastened Sue's efforts to get in control of herself again. Her success was partial at best, but it far beat the opposite, making her cling to it—and the warm kit in her arms—for all she could. Eventually, words flowed again, staggered and delivered in a constantly cracking voice. "I-I don't know why it hurts so much. H-he was just doing his best, i-it's not his fault. He,
*sniff*, he had so much o-on his plate, I had no idea how bad it was u-until he died a couple years ago—"
"^But it still hurts, doesn't it?^"
"I-it SHOULDN'T!"
"^But it does! Your feelings aren't a matter of 'should' or 'should not'. If it hurts, then it means you were hurt—^"
"BUT HE WAS TRYING HIS BEST A-AND HE LOVED ME!"
"^And yet, you were hurt all the same. Over, and over.^"
Sue wanted to snap back, to shout back at her for daring to imply that her dad had hurt her. Yes all this hurt and yes she wished he'd done more things with her and took her places and talked to her more and took her to Mom's grave and read her books to bed and played games with her and did everything she'd heard of other kids doing with their parents but he still loved her and he'd been trying his best! She didn't want to,
couldn't blame him for this, not when it was someone she loved so much.
Not when he was the only person she had left.
The vixen had been hesitant to use her telepathy for this beyond finding the right questions to ask, but it would be hard to avoid it this time. "^Sue, this isn't about blame. I don't doubt you at all when you say that your dad loved you and that he was trying his best. I genuinely believe that he had been, just like you. But his actions still hurt you, didn't they?^"
They shouldn't have...
...
...
But they did.
"I-it hurt, yes..." Sue whimpered. "B-but—"
"^But it hurt,^" Sundance cut her off, keeping her mental voice as gentle as she could manage. "^That's all there is to be said—you were hurt. It doesn't make your dad evil; it doesn't mean he didn't love you. All that means is that his actions, or lack thereof, had hurt you. Those we love can still deeply hurt us, even if they're genuinely trying their best.^"
The truth was staring Sue in the face, but she still couldn't face it. She had to keep running, to bring something up that would obscure this ten thousand foot tall mountain of pain and grief staring her in the eye, anything to delay it just that bit longer. Facing it wasn't an option, couldn't have ever been an option.
Because it meant that him never finding the time for her wasn't her fault.
Because it meant that them growing distant wasn't because she was an awful daughter.
Because it meant that she really had done nothing wrong and still ended up like this.
"^You were a child, Sue. You loved your dad, and trusted him to not hurt you. But he did, and that fact alone hurt so much more than what he'd done. It's awful when that happens, especially when we're young enough to not know any better, or worse yet, that we assume it's our fault—but it does happen. Those we love, those we trust wholeheartedly to look after us when we're little... they're just people, too. They make mistakes and can hurt others; they can hurt us. If we don't accept that, if we just keep running away from our emotions after we're hurt like this, then they'll never loosen their grip on us, and we'll be forever stuck at that moment our little hearts broke, unable to move on.^"
It was such a simple truth, so blatantly obvious and excruciating at the same time. Sue tried to go along with Sundance's mental image, to imagine herself as that little girl, how she must've been in that memory, trying her hardest not to show her little broken heart to anyone else.
And, for the first time she could remember, she didn't run. She sat still, watching the ten-year-old that would one day be her try her hardest to blame her dad's avoidance on anything, anyone but him. On herself, only on herself, more eager to gouge her eyes out than to face the facts. She leaned closer, as close as she could get to this child, this scar at the bottom of her mind—
And touched her.
For a while afterwards, all Sue could hear was her strained breathing. Her heart raced, her eyes sobbed until they had no more tears left within them, her throat grew dry. It couldn't have taken more than a few minutes; the sun was only a bit further ahead in its downward journey—but she felt utterly exhausted. She was of half a mind to fall asleep then and there and let someone else deal with the consequences. But she couldn't, and she didn't.
There were a couple of little people in here with her, looking up to her. She didn't want to hurt them, to accidentally pass on the pain she was only now coming to terms with.
She was still not done processing all the aching, even if it had dulled enough to let her think about something other than itself.
And last—she was hungry, and this chair wasn't
that comfortable.
The very final pair of reasons finally made her twitch as she sat back up, shaking hand stroking Spark's back. She was still so, so very lost, no less so because the pain was still there. It had eased up a bit; it no longer threatened to crush her in an instant, but it still surrounded her. What was she to do now?
...
...
She didn't know, but someone in the room did. "S-S-Sundance?" she whimpered.
The vixen turned to face her, a weak smile cutting through the earlier concern. "^Yes, Sue?^"
"It—it still hurts..."
"^It'll keep hurting for a while, I'm afraid. However... there is something we can do to help with it, I reckon.^"
Sue looked up at her mentor, away from Spark's diligent attempts to cheer her up by nuzzling her stomach. "Wh-what do you have in mind?"
"^How much mourning have you done after your dad passed?^"
Such a simple question.
Such a painful answer.
"N-not much, I-I don't think..."
"^Then maybe we should try just that.^"
