For the first time in a while, Sue let herself rest for as long as she needed.
The surrounding tranquility soothed her as her awareness drifted around, never quite falling back asleep, but not waking up either. Warmth, safety, just enough ambient glow for it to not be entirely dark, all combining into a profoundly calming experience. It’s been... years, decades since she could recall being at this much of a peace in the morning. Without anything that needed to be attended to right away, without any persistent worries.
Granted, she wasn’t quite sure whether the latter was earned considering just what she’d seen at the end of her dream, but she discarded it soon enough. Ominous, sure, but hardly meaningful, and she wasn’t in the mood to try predicting the future based on her exhausted, trauma-influenced dreams.
Especially since, unless she tripped on a magical ocarina later today, it wasn’t like she could do anything to stop the Moon from falling on her.
Or Duck, for that matter.
The thought—equal parts stupid and morbid—did wonders in speeding Sue’s awakening. Just a few minutes later, she’d gone from idly resting to stretching and yawning as her mind felt around the room with its extra sense. Solstice was absent—understandable, with her having an important job. The same was true for Comet; she must’ve taken him somewhere. In front of her, Joy snoozed on, her quiet snores making up much of the quaint ambiance. Twinkle—
...
...
Twinkle wasn’t here.
The revelation tossed Sue into the freezing lake of full focus, eyes not even wincing as they snapped wide open. Confirming her worries, the messy bag wrapped around her chest was empty, sending her straight into ever-tightening anxiety. “Twinkle? Twinkle!?”
Her aching limbs’ complaints fell on deaf ears as Sue pushed herself up, frantically scanning around the room. The awareness that she was looking for someone whose true form wasn’t meant to be looked at was present in her head, but shoved into a locker. She didn’t care that the sight might hurt her; she needed to find them; she needed to find her—the little one.
With each nook investigated and found empty, she felt the stabbing feeling in her chest grow more intense, any remaining grasp on calmness fading soon. She kept looking around the tent, soon getting on her knees to check under the beddings and baskets, to the immense displeasure of her still-hurting leg. It could wait, everything could wait, she had to find them; they had to be somewhere in here!
R-right?
Only emptiness, again and again. Most trinkets she spotted were overlooked in the chaos, including a small bundle of a long needle and several tiny bags she found hidden under Solstice’s bed. She didn’t have the spare brainpower to think about it or even remember seeing it—all that mattered was finding the little ghost. With each passing moment, anxiety distilled into despair, catalyzed by the pulsating pain on her still-injured leg.
They must’ve headed out, but how am I gonna find them!? What if they ran off into the woods; what if they hate me now; what if they died—
*rustle-rustle*
The sudden sound made Sue look over hard enough to make her neck hurt, but she didn’t have it in her to think about that. Or... anything else, for that matter.
For a few moments, she stared at the misshapen, pitch-black spot, unable to process the sight. Her body ached as her brain remained locked up, air slowly running out—
And then, the blob noticed what their presence was doing, and hid behind her bed with a distorted, terrified squeak. Sue’s loud gasp that followed didn’t help with their worries, but not even the Forest Guardian herself cared one bit about how much her airways hurt. They were here; they were safe, that’s all that mattered, that’s all that could ever matter!
...
They were also palpably scared, so even if she was crying tears of joy, it was best she took it slow. “H-hey Twinkle, I’m okay, I-I’m okay.”
Sue’s body shook as she crawled back onto her bedding and approached the edge the lil’ ghost was hiding behind. Her tears flowed all the while, resisting being controlled despite how unnecessary they were. She overreacted and Twinkle was safe now; there was hardly anything worth crying about, but...
The mere possibility of losing them hurt so much more than she could admit to herself, even now. “I’m here sweetie, I’m here,” she comforted the little ghost, voice wavering. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
After laying down next to the edge of the bed, Sue reached one arm towards the hiding ghost. Warm relief shot through her at feeling their ethereal, amorphous warmth grasp her hand, and then more of it once she switched to careful petting. “There, there. Let’s—let’s see if I can talk with you any.”
With Twinkle’s tentacle held firmly, Sue started maneuvering her mental link with her other hand. Despite knowing full well where the lil’ ghost was, a psychic connection was surprisingly difficult, their ‘signal’—for a lack of a better term—faint and smeared over a small area as opposed to being concentrated in a single bright spot. Nothing she couldn’t overcome, though, even with the added difficulty of her horn aching throughout the entire process.
Even once Sue was as sure she was connected as she’d ever get, she remained uncertain how to communicate with the lil’ one. Sundance’s words were fresh in her mind, about her needing to do some legwork to get anything coherent out of Twinkle’s murky, indeterminate thoughts. Legwork that Sue wouldn’t have a shred of an idea of how to begin even without her current injury.
She needed something simpler—and it didn’t get any simpler than a binary ‘yes’ or ‘no’. “Twinkle? Can you hear me?”
Focusing on her sixth sense, Sue felt their attention shift at hearing her words, the slurry of emotions in their mind soon shifting from fear to contentment.
Let’s take that as ‘yes’.
“I’m glad. Are you okay?” she asked. In return, she felt happiness, paired with more of their pitch-black warmth wrapping around her outstretched hand. “I’m happy to see you, too. Did you leave while I was sleeping?”
Fright. Not an emotion she was sure how to interpret, leaving her uncertain what to say. Before she could figure out what to say next, though, Sue felt something be pressed against her palm, as if the lil’ ghost was passing it over to her. With them backing off a few moments later, the Forest Guardian pulled her hand back, and saw...
A few freshly plucked dandelions.
The connection took its sweet time to form in her mind, time that only left Twinkle more worried. Sue laid the flowers on the edge of her bed before letting them hold her hand again, analyzing them with her other one.
Just some dandelions. Do they mean something to them, or—
...
...
Flowers.
“A-are these for me, Twinkle?”
A much firmer grasp on her hand, a lot more joy. As direct of a confirmation as she’d ever get, the sweetness of it all soon dissolving the last she had left of her earlier fear. In an instant, the small bundle in front of her went from assorted weeds to something she wanted to treasure. Some of those murky emotions were there, too—the kneejerk desire to reject that bliss filling her mind, to distance herself from both it and the little one that brought it.
After yesterday, though, Sue had it in her to push them away before they could worm themselves into her head, earlier tears coming back for a reprise. “Th-that’s so sweet of you, Twinkle. Thank you so much.”
Soothing happiness, bright enough to warm Sue’s body up. More fodder for happy tears, ones she didn’t even try to fight. She overreacted when they disappeared; she overreacted now—
Who bloody cares, I’m so happy and so are they.
For a short while, they both basked in the joy of it all, of delivering to and receiving a gift from someone they cared about so much. It’d still be best for the stressful part of this situation to be avoided in the future, but that could wait just a bit. Even at their happiest, even at the absolute firmest she ever felt them hold her hand, it was hardly any more forceful than if she’d submerged it in water. The realization made her want to hold Twinkle even harder—they must be so little and weak and, and—
And she wanted to be there for them, to protect them from any more fear or grief ever again. Though first she had to make sure they wouldn’t squirm away again. “If you ever wanna head out, could you wake me up first, Twinkle? I... I got scared when you left earlier.”
On cue, an unpleasant jolt of their own fear, one Sue tried to soothe as firmly as she could, be it by pets or words. “It’s okay sweetie, I’m okay now! Just asking for the future. I... I really care about you, a-and want to know where you are, okie?” she asked. Twinkle kept clinging to her, calming down by the moment. They didn’t want to leave her ever again—and neither did she. “Here, lemme give you your bag again.”
As Sue unwrapped the makeshift costume from around her torso, it really hit her just how... unsightly it was. She was far from a germaphobe—the often-messy state of her college dorm was proof positive of that—but the condition of the rag the little one hid in still had her grow queasy once she inspected it. Dirt stains, discoloration, a couple specks she could swear were dried blood.
Twinkle deserved so much better, even if Sue had no idea how to help at the moment.
In just a few minutes, the lil’ ghost was back in their bag and scrambling over to hold their guardian as close as they could. Two tentacles wrapped around her midriff, and a third around her petting hand, each gentle stroke calming them down bit by bit. As keen as Sue was to just stay like this all day long, though, Twinkle wasn’t even the only child she was taking care of—and after her raised voice and the resulting chaos, the other one was slowly waking up as well.
Oh goodness, the maw yawns too. I don’t care that I should be terrified; this is adorable.
After a couple of stretches of her own, Joy sat up and rubbed the sand out of her eyes. To little surprise, she was taken aback at the change in scenery, enough so to put her on edge—before spotting Sue, at least. And once she did, she didn’t hesitate even for a moment before dashing over and wrapping her arms around her.
“Goodness, what did I do to deserve you both...” Sue swooned, only barely stopping herself from breaking into tears again. Joy spotted her near-sogginess, looking up at her with concern. With Twinkle taking her one available link, she had no idea how to verbally convey what she just said to the metal girl, but... verbally wasn’t the only option.
Especially since something told her that Joy appreciated being lifted into a hug just as much as a spoken explanation.
With the display of affection done, the three of them calmed down some more—enough so for Twinkle to draw attention to the small bundle of dandelions on the bed’s corner. Sue wasn’t too certain what to do with them, but she knew they deserved something being done with them. Hmm, what about…
Taking Twinkle off-guard, Sue plucked one dandelion out of their grasp before weaving it into the loops that kept the ghost wrapped up. The second flower got clumsily wrapped around one of Joy’s... curls, much to her confusion, and the third Sue wove into her own hair. “How’s that, Twinkle?”
No verbal response, but gesturing made up for that in spades. One black tentacle pointed at Sue, then at Joy, and finally, after some thinking, at themselves.
“Yep, we each have a flower you brought,” Sue giggled. “Thank you again; that’s really sweet of you.”
It was only at that point that the toothy girl had woken up enough to consciously notice the bag-child just a couple of feet away from her. She faintly remembered seeing them yesterday, including the fact that they weren’t dangerous, but still had almost no idea who this stranger was. Sue didn’t have a way to tell her, but... she could still introduce them, if clumsily. “Joy, this is Twinkle. I’m looking after you both.”
One hand grabbed Joy’s, and the other took a hold of Twinkle’s tentacle, catching the attention of them both. Bringing them together went without any hitches, beyond reasonable apprehension. The metal girl was taken aback at how weird the ghost’s limb felt, and in return, Twinkle was unnerved at Joy’s maw. Nothing they couldn’t work through, especially with Sue being there with them.
I won’t let anyone hurt you while I’m here.
Before the lil’ ones could meet each other more, they all heard the entrance to the tent being parted again, this time by a pair of much more obvious suspects. The smaller of the two immediately reacted with a drawn-out, elated squeak at seeing his friends awake, and the larger one wasted little time before following in tow with a rough spun bag in one hand, and a... bucket in the other. “Good morning everyone! I hope you all slept well.”
Considering the strain of the past couple of days, Solstice was remarkably upbeat.
The mood shift was enough to bring some concern of its own to Sue, and the worries about the Mayor trying to mask what she felt inside didn’t take long to pop up. The older Forest Guardian sensed them clearly, answering Sue’s uncertain look with a firm nod and a telepathic whisper as she stepped in and lowered Comet onto the floor of her tent. “^You aren’t the only one with whom a chat with Sundance helped a lot. I still have much to process, I’m very well aware, but... it feels possible now.^”
Sue didn’t feel comfortable prodding for any deeper confirmation, but she didn’t need to, either. To the contrary, it was her noticeably soggy state that was much more eye-catching of the two—enough so for the Mayor to want to investigate deeper—before deciding against it. Whatever had happened, Sue had clearly figured it out herself, and if she needed further help, she knew how to ask for it.
Which just left pride; equally pleasant for both Forest Guardians.
*squeak!*
And of course, the lil’ Moon Child too.
As Sue tried not to laugh at the sight of Comet dispensing indiscriminate affection to her leg, she watched Solstice pull out everything she’d brought with herself, the assorted veggies making sense with what she said afterwards—“Breakfast time! Goodness, it’s been a while since I had the time to prepare something like this, and now I get to do it for twice as many heads as usual, ha!”
Sue’s scan of the laid out ingredients couldn’t piece them together into any meal she was especially familiar with. Potatoes, onions, a couple of peppers and several of the local lookalikes of the vegetables she knew. She couldn’t say she ever liked raw tomatoes, but at least the ones back home didn’t have spikes jutting out of them. “What are you gonna make?” she asked.
“Tamato stew, used to have it all the time growing up. Despite everything, it... it still brings some good memories. Was always a highlight of the day.”
Tomato, tamato.
The Mayor’s words could be interpreted in many concerning ways. Instead, Sue settled on a sympathetic smile, eagerly accepted. The thought of having a stew for breakfast was... odd, but considering Sue’s daily meal schedule back on Earth was ‘anything goes’, she didn’t have any ground to stand on. “Can I help anyhow?”
“Hmm... I only keep one knife in here, so unlikely. I appreciate the offer, though! Hah... I remember helping with these when I was much younger than you. It was always a family effort, by and only for us; guests got something else instead. Don’t see why I can’t make an exception here—what use are rules like that which only make us more miserable to follow?”
Sue was equal parts appreciative of the nice meal, and internally aching at the implication, however true, that she was in the category of ‘guest’ and not ‘family’. She didn’t put words to that thought, trying as hard as she could to swallow it down, but... it was still here, and Solstice could still sense it clearly. Neither of the two knew how to work their way out of that unpleasant feeling, prompting the Mayor to focus on continuing her cooking instead, an apologetic expression clear on her face.
Comet aside, the other little ones watched closely as Solstice reached out towards the small hearth and filled the hole in the dirt with several pieces of charcoal. Sue expected her to bring out a piece of flint and scrape some sparks out of it next, but what she did instead was much more eye-catching, if unexpected.
A dim glow shrouded her eyes and fingers as she wove the latter around in a pattern Sue couldn’t immediately piece together. If it was some sort of mystical spell, it was certainly working. The glow intensified until turning into a burning bright tracer, culminating in a small burst of intense flame striking the awaiting fuel.
Definitely something Sue expected Sundance to be capable of, but not Solstice.
“^Heh, she actually taught me that one!^” the Mayor laughed telepathically. “^Really handy, even if nowhere near as flashy as her way of doing it.^”
Sue didn’t think the elemental magic of that sort was as... teachable as Solstice’s description implied it to be. Before she could finish moving away from the earlier unpleasant topic and ask about the ingredients, she saw Joy lean in closer to the pot beside her, obviously curious about what was happening there. Something to ask her mentor about, after she figured out how to withdraw her link from Twinkle and reach Joy with it—
“^Communication is becoming a thorn, isn’t it, Sue?^”
The question took the younger Forest Guardian from the left field, but she couldn’t disagree with it. She dearly appreciated having a way to talk to people in here, but its limitations grew starker and starker by the day. Nothing Sue would let bring her down, nowhere near, but still an annoyance best dealt with sooner or later. “Y-yeah...” she sighed.
Her words and their uncertain tone caught the kids’ attention, much to her embarrassed happiness.
“^Seems like some learning is in order, especially now that you’re watching over two little people,^” Solstice giggled. Sue responded with a firm nod, hands indiscriminately dispensing affection to the tykes beside her as her mentor continued, “^Alrighty! Would you want to try it now while I’m working on the stew?^”
As much as Sue agreed she needed to get better at this, she didn’t see how she could do so in her current state. She wanted to, she really did, but if the injury on her chest made it so difficult to do the little she already knew, there was no way she could meaningfully train anything more intense.
Outvoted by a frickin’ papercut.
Before Sue could state the objection out loud, Solstice was already thinking through it while chopping vegetables on autopilot. She didn’t disagree; an injury of this sort was an obstacle. However, it wasn’t going away anytime soon. Horn injuries always took a long time to heal, an unpleasant detail the Mayor knew from experience.
And with Sue being the type to try running away with a broken leg, Solstice wasn’t expecting her to not try improving her psychics in the meantime, anyway. The least she could do was to watch over her, make sure she wasn’t aggravating it by accident, and—where possible—focus on the technique as opposed to raw, pain-inducing force.
...
She still hoped Sue would at least keep from bench pressing with her mind until her horn was all good, though. “^Don’t worry, it shouldn’t be too painful. Still, let me know if it ever gets too bad or you need a moment,^” Solstice reassured before switching to spoken word. “Alright everyone, would you mind giving Sue some space? I’ll be teaching her some more psychics so that she can talk with you more easily.”
Sue was taken aback at Solstice’s eagerness as the young ‘uns listened to her request. Joy followed it right away, but Twinkle… hesitated, for very reasonable reasons at that. Solstice was of half a mind to try calming them down, just like she remembered doing with Joy a few days ago, but noticed that her student wanted to tackle that instead.
Sue didn’t have a magical anathema to them being clingy either, but could at least underline that yes, she would remain here for them—which was exactly what she did. “C’mere, Twinkle. I’m not going anywhere; I’m right here. You just need to wait for me to finish some practicing with Solstice, okay? You can play with Joy and Comet until I’m done.”
Her hand carefully gripped their bag, while the other pointed out the two tykes as she mentioned them—with a loud, happy squeak adding to the Moon Child’s description. It filled Twinkle with enough confidence for them to slowly slink off his guardian’s lap on their own, to Sue’s amazement. She didn’t comment as she watched them lower themselves on the floor on their own, and hoped her wide, slightly soggy smile was self-explanatory enough.
Not even Comet’s very pushy kind of friendliness and Twinkle’s skittish reaction to it could ruin the sweetness all around her—not if Joy had anything to say at least. She stepped in between the two kids before the lil’ psychic could finish excitedly crawling over, speaking up—“S-s-slow!” Her voice was noticeably less shaky than the last time Sue had heard it, adding another heaping dose of pride to her cocktail of emotions.
Vague as the single word request was on its own, his mom’s translation helped Comet understand it while the metal girl looked over her shoulder to see if Twinkle was alright too, following her guardian’s steps and patting their bag just in case they weren’t.
Several tentacles wrapping themselves around her in response took her back a bit, but the two adults’ laughter melted through any fear before it could even arise. “Thank you, Joy,” Sue beamed, giddy in her seat. The girl answered with an excited smile of her own, ecstatic about her efforts to help the other lil’ one having been noticed.
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Solstice nodded, excited. “^Alright Sue, let’s get to it. My only concern is that your previous technique of using arms to assist yourself might be ill-suited here. It’s clearly helping you, but I have a hard time imagining how it could control more than two mental reaches at the same time.^”
Sue… wasn’t sure how she’d deal with that problem. If she had to change tracks away from her hand-based technique for this, then she was unlikely to achieve any progress at all, with everything she would first need to learn the ‘right’ way before continuing.
All that, though, paled compared to the other fact she glimpsed from her mentor’s words. “Wh-what do you mean, two?” she asked.
Solstice paused her breakfast preparation at her student’s question. “^Oh?^” Once she figured out what Sue meant, though, it sent her into a giggling fit that she tried to contain as hard as she could—ineffectively. The situation made for a good teaching moment, if nothing else, making her explain—“^I see~. I want you to first tune out emotions and focus, so that I can show you something.^”
Sue did as instructed, the former task made much easier through practice. Even with several more minds compared to her last training session, she found dimming feelings’ bright glare to be much more straightforward than just a few days ago. In no time, the world around her was reduced to just a few shining pinpricks of consciousness, and... a small glowing cloud where Twinkle was.
It wasn’t just me, their mind really is different, huh.
“^Now, watch,^” Solstice instructed. Sue felt her body instinctively reel back a bit at seeing six protrusions reach out from her mentor’s consciousness all at once, each waving in unison as her physical body kept chopping veggies. “^You can get much higher than just the one link you were using~. I’d say I can manage around ten or so, though not all at once.^”
If Sue’s eyes were open, she would’ve been staring wide. “T-ten? How!?”
“^Takes a lot of practice, and is hardly ever useful, ha. The really tough part is independently controlling them, and there I can only handle three groups at the same time or so.^” Sue didn’t think she was anywhere close to catching up with other psychics around Moonview, but this explanation sure cemented that fact even more. Sensing that, Solstice reassured, “^In your case, actively using multiple of them simultaneously won’t even be needed for now.^”
“R-right, but what if I want to link up with more than one person?” Sue asked.
“^That can be done one at a time~. Once you’re connected to someone, it doesn’t really take much focus to keep that connection going, does it?^”
Sue’s very tenuous grasp on much of this subject—and especially anything that went beyond the vague vibes she got used to by now—left her feeling anxious. Before the older Forest Guardian could intervene, though, her student took a deep breath and chewed through the question instead of immediately panicking. Once she processed it one word at a time, the answer was straightforward—“R-right. Sorry, just... it’s overwhelming.”
“^It’s okay. Take all the time you need, Sue.^”
Sue smiled weakly, opening her eyes just for a moment. Her mentor had much the same expression, patient and...
Yes, patient and motherly. Congratulations, visual cortex, you have noticed the obvious. Want a cookie or something?
Solstice blinked, taken aback at the sudden jolt in her pupil’s mood. “^S-Sue?^”
“It’s—it’s nothing,” Sue lied, shaking her head. “Lemme get back to it.”
Thankfully, Sue didn’t spot the amused, raised eyebrow going her way. “^Alright. So, now that you know that multiple extensions of your mind are a possibility, let’s start with just the one you’re used to. I’m... unsure how well your hand-based technique will be suited for this, though. It’d be easiest for now if you tried reaching over using just your mind, if possible.^”
Oh well. “L-Lemme try.”
Her recent injury didn’t appreciate the efforts that followed one bit. Unfortunately for it, Sue didn’t care, grimacing slightly as she first tuned out the emotional glare, and then reached out of her skull while her hands gripped her thin legs. It was much harder than what she’d been doing previously, more painful, but possible, contrary to her earlier worries.
Not particularly jaw-dropping progress, but progress all the same.
A minute of contorting her brain and slightly squirming her body later, the tip of Sue’s mental reach had made its way over to the older Forest Guardian, adding a bright, warm glow of happiness to her emotions. Any relief gained from that action, though, was immediately undone by the slimy, chilling sensation of her mental tentacle being grasped and forcibly held in place, even as her mind tried to retract it.
It felt just like she thought a Wet Willie would feel.
“^I know, it’s unpleasant, and I’m trying my best to make it less so,^” Solstice whispered. “^While I’m holding your reach, I want you to try extending another one. Just leave this one be where it is and go through this exercise again.^”
As straightforward as her mentor’s instructions were, they were a solid contender for the single most confusing instruction Sue has had yet during her stay here. She had absolutely no idea how she could possibly ‘let go’ of her brain tentacle. It wasn’t something she was guiding; it was a limb—the mental equivalent to a limb, at least. It was as if she was being asked to detach her physical arm or something.
Just have to let go of my injured leg and sprout another one to replace it. How difficult can that be?
...
...
No, I am not making that joke.
After forcibly shaking off any less-than-appropriate humor her brain tormented her with, Sue tried giving Solstice’s instructions another go. They still felt impossible, but there must’ve just been something she wasn’t seeing, some mental button she could slam her face on to let herself sprout another brain tentacle, simple as that.
What followed were several minutes of Sue shaking in her seat as she simultaneously tried to wrestle her physical Forest Guardian brain and her ephemeral human mind. She was barely capable of duking it out one-on-one with either, and taking on both left her squarely outmatched. A hearty bit of comedy for any mental onlookers that might’ve been nearby, but Sue herself only felt frustration creep on her.
These were basics; this was lesson three, and she already felt like she’d run into a concrete wall. A few more frustrated, aimless attempts resulted in the same results, the negative emotions filling the younger Forest Guardian’s head soon stark enough for Solstice to intervene again. “^Sue? What’s wrong, did something happen?^”
“It’s—I can’t. I just can’t figure this out, I’m sorry,” Sue admitted, defeated.
“^Don’t be sorry Sue, you’ve done nothing wrong. Is there anything in particular that’s giving you trouble?^”
“Letting go of that—that mental reach. How do you do that?”
“^Hmm... in my case, I remember helping myself with that by lightly yanking my head back when I was little,^” Solstice reminisced. “^Nowadays, it happens so fluidly I’m unsure how to explain it with words. I can try to show you how it feels, if you’d like?^”
Sue shuddered. “I-I don’t know. It’s more than that, it’s like a limb, and I have no idea how to let go of a limb.”
“^The ‘limb’ association is very helpful at the start, but you’ve just run into one of its many limitations. Our links can be moved independently like limbs, but they can also be severed, detached, or let go of.^”
“R-right, but I don’t know how to shake that association off myself,” Sue kept trying to explain, growing disheartened. “It’s not just an unfortunate description, it’s really how they feel to me.”
“^I see... One more piece of advice I have is to try thinking of these not as your mind directly, but as something your mind steers; but I know that’s not very useful for you right now. Lemme think about it...^”
As Solstice went back to preparing breakfast stew and study materials for her pupil simultaneously, Sue strained her brain in trying to accomplish just a single task. Several further attempts at multiple psychic tentacles went nowhere—at a certain point, she couldn’t even get to where she’d make the magic happen, with even trying to focus away from her currently extended reach making it recede immediately.
This Duckdamned brain, I swear...
The analogy her mentor left her with sounded like it could be useful, but Sue wasn’t convinced. She was certain she’d run into the same issue again, and almost didn’t even bother trying at all. The frustration-fueled inaction didn’t endure more than a few seconds, thankfully, not as her thoughts threatened to veer towards thinking of herself as a petulant child. Sue had no idea whether that counted as self-intimidation or not, but was glad it worked all the same.
With that murk shelved for the time being, she had little else left to try but to try taking Solstice’s advice literally, to think of her brain tentacles not as her limbs, but something one step further down in the analogy, something they merely steered. Her first attempt to implement that vague guidance ended almost as soon as it had begun, accomplishing nothing—
Because she got another idea, one she was much more keen on trying.
The burst of motivation that revelation provided was enough to even distract Comet out of his play for a moment. Happy squeaks became focused silence as he listened in, only to return to giggles once Joy’s peek-a-boo snagged his attention right back.
As the little ones enjoyed each other’s presence, Sue was busy reaching out a mental tentacle as far out as she felt capable of. This time, though, she didn’t keep herself to just using her mind, assisting herself with her hand. With that all-natural mental tool, her psychics floated fluidly around the room, enough so to leave Solstice impressed—and confused considering how unrelated this was to the exercise at hand.
Sue didn’t notice either emotion, not with how much of her brain power was focused on wriggling her brain around and on her physical arm as she did so. She kept it clenched through that entire process, as if gripping the handle of her crutch. And then, once she reached as far out as she felt capable of, she let go of the handle and pulled her hand back.
And her mental reach stayed there.
It wasn’t immobile, beginning to slowly retract right away, but it broadly remained where it was without her having to focus on it any more! Sue immediately followed it out with the next step, gripping a different pocket of air with the same arm and moving it around in much the same way. And… it worked. For a few seconds, she felt double the squirmy, indescribable sensations that accompanied these mental limbs; she was near sure both of them were out at the same time—
“^Oh—you did it!^” Solstice perked up, surprised.
I FUCKING DID IT!
“^Language please, Comet is around~.^”
Right, sorry.
The gentle chiding interrupted Sue out of her excited pop-off, replacing it with amused laughter for both Forest Guardians. “^Well done, Sue! What made it make sense?^” her mentor asked, beaming with pride.
“I tried applying what you said, a-and what did the trick was using my arms as something I steered these links with, n-not as the actual links, kinda like how I used a crutch for a while! Is that similar to what you had in mind?”
“^Huh...^” Solstice hummed, her genuine confusion taking Sue aback, enough so to make her recede from her focused state.
Once more, eyes stung once she opened them, but she was getting used to that, too. Before her, the pot in the tent’s center was now halfway full of water, with a good chunk of chopped-up ingredients already added. Not all, though, with several herbs and chunks of the anomalous spiked tomato still waiting for their turn.
Reentering her body also clued her onto the pulsating aching emanating from her horn—much, much less of it than she thought she would have by now. It wasn’t anything pleasant, nowhere near, but it was bearable. She still hoped that the wound would heal soon, though.
“^I think I have an idea of what might be going on?^” Solstice spoke up, uncertain. “^Suppose your arms are so tied to the concepts of control that you subconsciously envision all action as being done by your arms?^”
That was a much more abstract spin on the entire thing than Sue expected, and figuring out an answer took her a moment. Once she got there, though, it was just as self-evident as the last time the Mayor asked her a question about how humans thought of their hands—“Y-yeah, that tracks. I’d say that ‘moving’ is associated with legs and feet, but almost everything else is with hands.”
“^That’s fascinating. I was aware of how much your previous kin relies on hands, but this goes even further than that. Beyond how your brains are laid out, and into how you conceptualize these fundamental ideas...^”
Sue had no idea how to respond to that, and neither was Solstice expecting her to, chuckling quietly instead. “^Anywho~. Not done with breakfast yet, so you’ve got some time to practice! Do you want me to help?^”
“If it’s—”
“^Of course it’s alright, Sue. I’m gonna do what I did earlier and hold your reach in place when you reach it out far enough, okay?^”
With a nod, Sue went for it, jumping right back into her practice. It took a few solid tries for the slightly different role of her arms to sink in, but once it did, it was even easier to control her brain tentacles than it had been earlier. In a repeat of her very first exercise, she reached over to Solstice, got her reach grabbed, and started extending another one, to the side of the first one.
Harder than the one time she managed it earlier—the sensation emanating from her gripped tentacle made it hard to focus—but still very possible. She grinned with her eyes closed, grasping the invisible handle and extending her second mental limb as far as it’d go.
And then, Solstice gripped this one too, and focusing got even harder. “^It’s tricky, I know~. Further down the line, I can go over how to deflect these interruptions, but for now just keep trying to push past them.^”
Sue didn’t quite manage to extend the third tentacle out after all, her mentor eventually letting the first two go. The only way forward was practice, and she didn’t waste a moment before immediately trying again—and again, and again, and again. Each attempt desensitized her to the slimy sensations more and more, each effort of extending a new mental reach made that barely coherent task easier.
Creating a third extension of her mind was still tricky, but doable after just a few solid tries. Going a step forward to attempt the fourth felt like walking into a brick wall. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t; there was no way for her to split her attention this many times. She didn’t want to admit defeat, trying futilely a few more times, but her unfortunate observation was confirmed each time.
Guess that’s as far as I can push it for now.
Solstice was more than satisfied with that. “^Alright! I’m gonna stop holding them now, and it’ll be up to you to keep them all out,^”
The modified exercise turned out to be simultaneously easier and harder than the previous version. Without the constant bombardment of some very unpleasant sensations, Sue found it much more feasible to go for the fourth mental reach, but her attempts only made all the previous ones want to retract even more.
“^Focus on keeping them all out, Sue.^”
“I-I’m trying...” Sue grunted. Wrestling with her brain to keep the wacky figments of her imagination exactly where she wanted them to be was... tricky, and yet somehow not impossible. If she just prodded the correct bits of the gray goo between her ear spikes, she could stop the tentacles from retracting for a decent amount of time. It was something, but not truly keeping them all out at the same time.
Consciously switching which one she was controlling every few moments helped, but came with its own drawbacks.
It limited her to consciously moving a single reach at a time, and switching itself took a decent bit of effort—at least at the start—but each repetition of that boring task made it easier and easier, her mental model of it all changing over time to match. Instead of having to withdraw her hand all the way back to grasp an entirely different handle, it now felt more like... wearing a sweater with a sleeve that split into two at the elbow, and switching between these sub-sleeves.
...
I really hope I never have to verbally explain this stuff to anyone.
As Sue practiced, these figurative ‘sub-sleeves’ split further and further along. After a few dozen tries, she only had to flick her wrist back to switch the tentacle, after a few dozen more, she just needed to move her hand as if swiping something off to the side. Much of it wouldn’t last for long, she was well aware. Muscle memory was one thing, but this was way too little for that to truly set in. It made for a great target for the next time she sat down and went through this entire mind-melting workout—
*clap!*
The sudden sound derailed all that remained of Sue’s train of thought of focus, bringing her back towards full awareness. “^Dealing with distractions will also be something you’ll have to practice!^” Solstice laughed softly. “^But that’s something we can tackle later.^ Breakfast’s ready!”
Sue blinked through her startle as she took the surrounding scene in, attention soon jumping over to the little ones. Joy seemed to be the mediator between Comet and Twinkle, with her and the Moon Child both holding small straw dolls. They didn’t depict anyone in specific, but that didn’t stop their play, as unstructured as it was. The lil’ ghost was still rather overwhelmed by Comet, but not cripplingly so anymore. It would take a while for them to get used to each other, no doubt, but they had time.
They had time, and they had Sue.
Solstice’s call had Twinkle look first at her, and then at their guardian. Once they spotted the latter being aware again, they scrambled over, catching Joy’s attention as well. Thankfully, the Mayor’s words barely elicited any reaction in the toothy girl anymore, as scared as she was of them just a few days ago. It was something worth asking about, but not necessarily postponing breakfast for—
“What are you doing, Sue?” Solstice asked, beckoning her over. “Come, come, sit down with us.”
Sue wasn’t sure how she expected breakfast stew to be eaten, but ‘on the floor’ wasn’t an answer she had considered. Suppose it wasn’t quite sitting on dirt with the rudimentary rugs that lined it, but these had to be uncomfortably dirty, right?
...
Wrong, apparently. Sure, they weren’t the peak of pleasantness, but nowhere near as bad as Sue wondered they’d be.
Guess these tiny feet don’t bring all that much dirt with themselves.
“Indeed~,” the other Forest Guardian giggled.
The meal—now that Sue focused on it as opposed to passively taking in the scent while thrashing her brains around—smelled delightful. Looks were less stellar, but that was about what was expected from a stew. Hell, if anything, it was closer to a thick soup than what she’d recognize as a stew back on Earth, especially without any meat.
*sip*
...
Sue had no idea which of the ingredients she saw earlier had suddenly jumped several orders of magnitude up the Scoville scale, but at least one of them must have done it, because good Duck was this hot. Not unbearably so—her tongue was much too delighted by all the sweet caramelized onion and overall saltiness to complain—but noticeably. If not for her seeing Joy and Comet down their portions with no less delight than she had, the latter with the Mayor’s help, she wouldn’t have believed they could even eat it.
While everyone corporeal went through their bowls and Solstice tried to reason through what did Sue mean by ‘meat’ in her thoughts, Twinkle felt left out. They weren’t hungry; they didn’t even remember what hunger felt like, but this still smelled nice. They wanted some, too. It couldn’t be hard, right? Just had to wait for Joy to put her spoon down, and use it, and then pour some into their—ACK!
Their loud squeak caught the group’s attention, letting them see the fresh stain on the ghost’s outfit, with only a few droplets having reached the void kept within.
“Twinkle, what—oh my, you wanted to taste some too, right?” Sue asked, taken aback. With another squeak, the ghost dashed over to her, holding her tight and whimpering quietly. Not in pain, but this was still uncomfortable, leaving the little one shuddering against their guardian. It was hot; it was wet; it was irritating, and they messed up. They weren’t quite at the level of tears yet, but... they were close.
The perfect level for some closer affection. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Sue whispered, petting the clean part of their disguise. “Goodness, you really need a replacement bag, don’t you?” Twinkle answered with a few mumbled, panicky squeaks, their volume lowering with each pet.
“I think Sundance would love to help with something like that. Right up her handiwork alley,” Solstice suggested.
Sue nodded, liking that idea the more she chewed on it. They’d get to check on the vixen, they’d make something nicer for Twinkle, she’d get to spend time with both the little ones under her care—hopefully. “How does that sound, Twinkle? A prettier outfit for you, and maybe you could even tell us what you want to wear?”
By then, the hauntling had calmed down enough to process the idea, and... they liked it. They liked it so much they soon grew impatient for it, especially with their current costume having gotten rather uncomfortable.
Let’s see if we can clean this thing up…
----------------------------------------
Turns out it was easier to find something new for Twinkle to change into than to clean their costume with them inside it.
Sue was almost certain that their new outfit used to be a pillowcase at some point, before... not being needed anymore, and getting stashed away for a few years. Regardless of what it once was, though, now it was only a source of comfort for the lil’ ghost.
With Twinkle helped and breakfast eaten, the impromptu party headed out, destination: Sundance’s house. Comet snuggled drowsily in Solstice’s arms; Twinkle was wrapped around their guardian again, and Joy walked beside them both. As much as both she and Sue wanted her to be carried, the younger Forest Guardian’s leg disagreed with that desire, especially after being put through extra strain a few hours earlier.
Cast or not, I just can’t learn, can I?
Thankfully, the toothy one didn’t mind a whole lot. She made sure to give Sue some space off to the side; the gesture appreciated dearly. When they were wrapping the breakfast up, Sue put her curiosity about the metal girl’s fear of her two mentors to words. Solstice’s translation was a Duck-send, helping convey the nuance without leaving Joy feeling alarmed or put on the spot.
As it turned out, two grownups summoning lights and fire while speaking loudly to a village-size crowd was the kind of sight that left an impact on everyone, intended or not. Sue sure didn’t expect to share the ‘got scared by Solstice during her and Sundance’s speech after getting back from their trip’ trait with Joy, but this wacky world—yet again—turned out to be weirder than fiction.
If she had the reach to lean in and hug the toothy girl, she would have done so without hesitation.
Instead, they both savored the late morning in their own ways as they marched on, one step at a time. Some steps were smaller, some larger, some even limped and needed others to wait for them—but it was alright. For the first time in too long, they didn’t have to rush.
Unfortunately, the quaint walk wouldn’t remain such forever.
Having to walk past the raised platform the Elders sat on last night sent shudders through Sue’s spike. She didn’t want to think about how close Moonview got to a point of no return, to that assault on Newmoon happening because of Root’s sheer genocidal insistence. A part of her hoped it wouldn’t have happened even without her intervention, that eventually his fury or others’ motivation would burn out, but... she didn’t know.
Thanks to her actions, she didn’t have to know either, the thought bringing her some not-unearned pride—hold on.
Right as their group was turning a corner away from the scene, something small caught Sue’s attention. She was deaf to Joy’s confused squeaks, walking closer to make out just what the bright item was. It almost looked like it was levitating, and—
No, it wasn’t levitating. It was stuck in a tree.
She only got a brief glimpse of Juniper’s arrows, both before the owl’s attempt at Solstice’s life and after, but for better or worse, the sight was forever burned into her memory. This one had struck a tree with enough force to embed the entire arrow head into the wood, leaving just the orange fletching visible. It wasn’t here before, it couldn’t have been here before, others would’ve called it out, but what did it—wait.
Who sat there?
As unforgettable as yesterday’s events were, recalling such an unimportant detail proved harder than Sue expected. A part of her didn’t even want to bother; there was no way in hell it wasn’t Solstice, but Sue could’ve sworn she sat at the other side. And if not for her, then...
...
Root.
Before the realization of the second worst person around having redirected her vendetta over to the first worst person around could sink in, Sue’s focus was snapped away by a loud, ethereal whistle. Familiar, but not enough to do more than jog her memory.
And that held true for the being that had used it to catch her attention, too. “Ahahaha~! Can’t believe I found you before ssshe did~,” the ghostly voice spoke, with both their pumpkin-shaped bottom half and thinner, orange-haired top half laughing at the realization, leaving everyone else just confused.
Sue was too stunned by her earlier revelation to react right away—something that Solstice wasn’t burdened by. “What do you mean, Soot?”
“Oohhh, Lillssss wrapped up her load for today, she ran riiiight off and hasssss been looking for you~!” the now-named Soot teased.
Beyond unleashing an entire flock of non-mutated butterflies straight into Sue’s stomach, the ghostly pumpkin’s claim got her quite curious. “W-was she really that excited?” she asked, trying to hide her own curiosity.
“AHAHAHAHAHA!”
She neither expected to be laughed at today, nor have said laughter result in such an intense fluster on her end.
“Of coursssse she wasss, hasss been for daysss~. Goodnesss, I remember when we firsssst got a glimpssse of you, when you sssat at the clearing with Poppy. She just wouldn’t sssstop~! ‘Aaaah, she’s so cute’, ‘Aaaah, she saved Sparkie’, ‘Aaaah who even am I in comparison’, you know, sssssilly things. Had to shove her a few timessss just to get her to act~!” Soot kept giggling. If Sue got embarrassed even a single iota more, she would’ve caught on fire there and then. “And dare I ssssay it’ssss worked out—ohhhh, ahahahah! Oh my my my, you’re blushing harder than even Lillsssss~. Made for each other, you two~.”
Sue didn’t get spared from either Soot’s or her companion’s resulting laughter. Even Joy chimed in despite her limited understanding, falsifying Sue’s earlier hypothesis—she could get even more embarrassed, and was persistently not catching on fire.
Even if a part of her really wanted to.
“Hope she runssss into you sssssooon~. Curioussss ghost on your chest, by the by~,” Soot waved them off.
As they headed away and Sue recovered from her flustered overdose, the ghostly pumpkin’s parting remark caught her attention. They realized Twinkle was a ghost, and they sounded quite ghostly themselves. Ditto with Hazel yesterday, who Sue knew was a ‘ghost’, ridiculous categorization as it was. Could ghosts sense other ghosts? Was Soot a ghost? Whichever ‘typing’ represented affinity for plants seemed to be a given, but ‘ghost’ felt rather far-fetched.
Now I wonder who else has been a ghost all along without me realizing.
The amusing thought didn’t last very long, though. The follow-up realization of ‘if they’re a ghost, that means they might've died and come back as a ghost’ steered Sue into just feeling sorry, unsure whether that was the case for Soot or not. To the best of her knowledge, it was the case with Twinkle. They sure wouldn’t be getting away without some extra affection of their own—
!
Sue felt the sudden shift in the air hit her like a slap in the face; calm immediately replaced with an alarm that wasn’t even her own. She looked at Solstice out of reflex, her expression aghast. Before she could speak up, the Mayor passed Comet into her arms; her accompanying words as insistent as they were brief. “^Sue, go to Sundance’s house now. Don’t wait for me, I’ll be there soon.^”
Without a moment of elaboration more, the older Forest Guardian turned around and headed out, her march as fast as it was possible for it to be short of breaking into running. This wasn’t despair, this was something else, something even more worrisome.
Fear.
Sue was torn almost exactly evenly between obeying Solstice’s request and following her to see what the hell had just happened. The latter impulse lasted just long enough to make her turn the nearby corner—and then, she saw them.
A Forest Guardian in the distance, at the other end of the plaza they were at the edge of, the plaza Willow and flower medic were teaching at in that very moment. At first, it didn’t look like they had noticed their group—only for them to turn around to face her in the time it took Sue to blink.
On their body, tattoos like Solstice’s. A different, more angular pattern.
In their mind, perfect calmness, standing out despite the distance.
At the other end of their gaze, Solstice.
They only spared Sue the briefest of glimpses—enough to send a jolt of freezing fear through her spine and spike. It made Solstice glance at her for just a moment, scared for her, before turning back to the stranger and speaking up with the loudest, most forceful delivery Sue had seen her speak with yet.
“^You are not welcome here, Solanum.^”
In return, laughter. Cold, mocking. Sue felt a mind far more powerful than her forcibly link with her, the sensation harsh enough to stagger her. And then; the stranger spoke.
“^I wouldn’t have thought you would grow even more insolent towards your mother... Snowmoon.^”