Luc.

Hm?

Wake up.

Don't wanna.

I- ...fine.

Sorry.

Don't be, I... I get it. Too early. It's gonna take a while to set in. We've locked ourselves in the studio, just grinding away at projects, one by one, two by two. It's not pretty. Luc's work has always been idyllic, peaceful, a manifestation of the perfect world she wishes to reside in forever. Fields upon fields of flowers stretch across the horizon while the sun shines dazzlingly overhead. It blinds me, it blinds Luc too, but if that means we don't have to see anymore (any more) then we'd happily stay there. Instead... we're stuck here.

I tried to be normal. I tried to be myself. I raised my hands like a frame to capture a scene in my head, but what happened next?

Luc, don't think too hard about it. Leave it to me. Leave all the thinking to me. Just keep creating your beautiful artworks. ...Please.

Huh. Okay.

The classmate who was in the frame when Luc did that has not been seen up to this day. They came back a few weeks later, in a wheelchair. They've been recovering. I don't know where this came from - was this the power that Karyn had been so haughty about? Horrifying. Yet Luc knows nothing better.

New Orleans, Louisiana. I remember this place - I haven't been to the heart of the city before, but in a way I felt right at home. Was that wrong? It shouldn't be a home, should it? You should be happy, you're close to us again, you could even come ba-

I heard there was a strange fire around here some months ago, and someone got melted. I thought people just burned, but I guess not. Weird things happen in Louisiana, it's actually pretty funny considering how I'm from here and I'm pretty funny. 

Anyways, she told me she could do some sort of upgrade on me. Of course I chose vision, it's like having double the artistic vision now that I can see strange colours in the dark! Might even help me draw in the dark. Photosensitive materials are finally within my grasp, gotta use this in my final project or something. 

Sometimes I wonder if I’ve ever met Lina here when I still lived here, but it doesn't feel like things would be this surreptitious. For one they would never have allowed it - she's not exactly the kind of person that Father would look for. Not to mention Leopold’s really cool and he would definitely not have liked us. We would've called him a “heathen”, so I had a little trouble trying to figure out how I felt about him. Then I realized I don't have to decide so quickly anymore. Lina’s here, and for what it's worth, I feel a little safer around her. She promised she'd make sure no one approached us at the airport after all, and she kept that promise.

It felt like a little field trip. And what's a field trip if you don't go to a local attraction? I've always wondered what art galleries around here were like. Basically, wherever I’m going, my first thought is always to go find art. It's for inspiration! It's to tell myself, “If they can, I can too!”

So we went to the New Orleans Museum of Art! Turns out Lina is also pretty artsy, it's always nice being able to talk about art with people that aren't my classmates - there's nothing wrong with them, but art should be more widespread! You don't need a degree to look at things and have an opinion on them. 

At some point Lina started talking about "Stańczyk”. She mentioned helplessness and spiraling and “all you could do is watch”, and… gee, who hurt her, am I right?

But I get it. Who am I to judge? Upbringing definitely has something to do with what you see in a work - it's like I get to peek at a little piece of people that would never pop up otherwise. It's pretty neat.  

It's not that Luc has nothing to say about the painting, or that she fails to see the intent behind it. She has been staring at that desolate face for a long time now, have you noticed? We aren't stupid - we can understand basic human emotional cues. It just hits a little too close to home for her to say anything - and by home, I mean the cage that had called itself our Family for the first decade of our life. 

The bumbling of a party next door, faded music whose bass holds us captive no matter how far we go, an ethereal question of, "What am I doing here?" 

I'd be a fool not to stop and think of all the horrible news that cursed letter holds. The drapes are green and the tablecloth is muddled - there is no extravagance left in this room. The jester's eyes are trained forward, undistracted yet haunted by the unknowable.

...We remember holding our eyes open for so long we were convinced they'd crack and shatter and we'd finally be free from seeing. But now, it's our only path forward. Where else could we go? We've already escaped one place, is that not enough?

Her sketches were really cool, we started sharing our drawings and stuff and I didn't know she was a fashion designer! And a streamer! I've always wanted to draw clothing but the proportions are never right. All the fabric looks flat. Gotta set up some days where we just start drawing together, I have to learn from the expert. She's been doing so much, apparently she's got rats now. I wonder why she even takes time out of her day to hang out with me. She seems like she's got a lot to do, and here I am flying to Louisiana for the funsies.

It took a lot to get Luc to come back out of her shell.

I wonder if we're friends? Either way I hope Lina enjoyed our little outing. Maybe next time I'll ambush her during her stream. :)

Every time I look, I'm reminded

I'm trying to keep her safe. A living thing's most vulnerable time is when they're asleep. This is a fact, I've learned this long ago! Who would blame me for trying to help, then?

You see the unconscious form and your eyes are glued. The face is still, serene, but pained for reasons you do not know. You can't fathom what it means to lose a loved one that has done no wrong, because you're convinced that people only ever die if they've wronged your God. You claim to be helping but really, deep down you're afraid that she might not wake up again - you don't know if she's done something to incur anyone's wrath. You consider her a friend and think, just because of that, she'd be safe.

She's confused, but that's okay. She doesn't need to try to understand. She'll realize how valuable this is the moment they strike. This is how I've lived, and sure it was disorienting but you get used to it after a couple of years. 

So why do they look at me like I'm doing something wrong?

You think that just because you owe something, you can hang around like a fruit fly. You twist every favour, whether from you or another, into an opportunity.

Doesn't Leopold want to protect her too?

Does he think I'm not strong enough?

He's underestimating me too.

They'll never understand - it's all you wanted but you'd never have it. Not unless you come back to us. Don't you remember? We saved you countless times. You know what it feels like to have your efforts shunned.

Who are you, anyway?

Why are there more of you now?

Scream.

Home.

Dread.

Shush, Aria. I have to handle this one.

Then do it.

I am! I'm... trying. And that should be enough.

Luc... you know this. There's no fixing it. They'll keep forgiving you and holding all your little mistakes over your head until the individual water drops drive you insane. It's not just the little harmless droplets - it's the fact that you're tied down and isolated against your will, knowing that you live just to be able to see those you love. The droplets are a reminder that this is torture. They never end - each time they think you've done something wrong, a cup gets added - and they'll always think you're wrong regardless. If they really could be convinced otherwise, then they wouldn't have thought you were wrong in the first place. They claim to love you. This is an iron grip. They hover over your shoulder each second you spend in this house and you could never learn to be yourself until you get the sense to leave. Yet you get reined right back to square one because it's been so long that you don't know what to do if you don't stay. This is not what real lo-

Say all you want, Aria, but there's more to it than just lecturing me.

I tried. Why do you think I asked Stanley to take us to Lina's?

...

They've been worried sick. It's been a month and I came back with a messed up throat - anyone would be concerned. I knew that. I know that. That's why I'm trying my best to explain but they won't let me and they won't listen and they won't stop and they won't-

This isn't about my inability to speak - not at all. It's just that anything I try to say is framed as "talking back" and "making excuses" even though they were the ones asking me all these loaded questions that I could never answer! Just hire a PI, they'll tell you that they have no idea - you've always underestimated us so why stop now? Maybe there is no explanation and it's like every single conversation people have about art: "There'll never be a concrete answer."

They're trying to ground me. They're trying to keep me confined in my room not knowing the nature of this situation. They know it won't work, it never works it didn't even manage to chain our family down by the time we left Louisiana-

So here I am. Reflecting. Thinking. Staring at the wall for hours on end - I've always known that those blotches moved from place to place, ever so slightly, but no one would believe me - now, with so much time on my hands I can finally see the truth for myself. I've always known! I've always known and seen the truth yet they don't listen because they're always right, they can never be wrong, because to be wrong is to fail and they would never fail because they've broken the cycle and that makes them invincible and so much better but in the end they're no different from-

They enter without knocking. They see the scribbles on the wall. They look at me. Threaten to kick me out. Abandon me. Leave me to get picked off by the coyotes- no, no, no, no, no no no no no nonn on n onoo nono no onoNONONONONONONO

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry don't throw my things away I'm begging you I need that I need my IDs I know I do I'm not dumb I need these things you can't just leave me to die you can't you can't do this you worked so hard to get all of us out of there you can't possibly just throw it all away you said it was mine you said it was mine IT'S MINE IT'S ALL MINE YOU GAVE THIS TO ME YOU CAN'T JUST TAKE IT AWAY WHEN YOU DECIDE TO BECAUSE IT'S YOURS EVEN THOUGH I ASKED YOU AND YOU SAID IT WAS MINE AND I COULD DO WHATEVER I WANTED WITH MY THINGS BECAUSE IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS BUT NOW YOU'RE GOING BACK ON YOUR WORD BECAUSE IT'D HURT ME WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU I can't afford that on my own I'm only 19 we're just Luciole we can't we can't we can't but I want to I need to because if I don't then I can't help deal with the problems that I had a part in creating I can't just leave Lina with all of that she'll be outnumbered and everything I tried to do would've been for nothing she can't die I can't let her die I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't don't do this to me don't make me choose don't make me choose between my friends and my family it's not about disrespect it's about keeping her safe I'm sure you understand you were the ones who taught me this even after we left our Family why is it only true when it helps you please don't do this to your child I'll be better I promise I pinky promise because pinky promises are the biggest promises you could make what do you mean you can't find it within yourself to believe me please don't leave don't say these things what is this I won't leave I won't leave I won't leave what do you mean I'll have to leave at some point and you'll lock the doors I thought the secondary and tertiary and quaternary and quinary, senary, septenary, octonary, nonary, denary locks were to be safe from intruders I'm not an intruder I'm Luciole we're Luciole don't do this I can't at least let me keep all my documents I need those to keep going I don't know where to start you never let me do things on my own I never learned how do I start now I can't I can't I can't stop shaking I can't I can't I can't it hurts it hurts iT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS

You're home. You're home, you've always been home, the world is your home, it's just that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time for a little too long. We'll forgive you. Just come home. They are no better than us. At least we know your value. Come home, little Firefly.

Lina, I... I'm trying. I'll be there. I promise.

...I think.

...Hey, what's... what's this?

Luciole finds a pendant under her bed.

[New item found: Insignia of the Ichor Order.]