CW:

Awnya POV!!! Suicide ideation. Talk of triggers and past assaults. Talking someone out of possible suicide and despair.

“Usete. Usete. Usete.” I chide as I move through the garden. “What are we gonna do with you?”

They’re sitting at the edge of a little creek that runs through it all. Sort of… changed it to spiderweb into a bunch of smaller ones downriver as they’ve waited for someone to come speak with them.

They turn to regard me just as I plop down, take a second before saying. “Awnya.”

“Heya.” I reply, gazing out at the waters and little fish swimming about. “So… You went and thought to explore? Is that it?”

“No I…” They pause and take a deep breath. “Did Duenna Raska not speak with you?”

“Ah. Nope.” I look them up and down performatively. “Well you don’t look burned to ash so… Not the worst first solo impression, at least.”

They wince. “Only just. She was incredibly upset.”

“That’s probably an understatement.” I sigh. “At least tell me you didn’t just… stumble into her community? Disregarding mine and Tretion’s rules for you and Yuna?”

“No! I… Someone came to me. Asked me to heal a lover.”

I run a hand through my hair. “Ah… Well… That makes this a bit better.”

They sag a bit. “I… She was right though. The Everflame. I should have told them to bring the girl to me. She wasn’t in danger of death.”

“Yup. Pretty stupid thing to do, not gonna lie.” I nod, then pause as I realize something. “Dreamer’s Tits… She found you weaving a song over someone. In an area you were told specifically to NOT enter. Didn’t she?”

They nod.

“Usete we… There are people in those communities that have been hurt, directly, by the Fae.”

That makes their eyes go a bit wide. “I… What? How?”

I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter. We’ve been taking care of people for years, Usete. Souls still healing and… and trying to start lives others stole from them.”

“I would never hurt anyone.” They finally push back.

I sigh. “How do you think Lyra would react if she saw a random Fae wandering about? Or worse, some Reaver?”

“It’s… That’s not…” They trail off as I raise an eyebrow.

“The same? How do you know that?” I press. “You know just a little of the Rot Lyra’s had to wade through, can probably guess what’s happened to her. And trust me, Usete, there are people in those communities that had similar done to them by a Fae.”

They jerk to stare wide-eyed at me. “What!?! By one of our kind? As bad as… as Thendra!?!”

“I know you’re aware of the Caravan of Dream Walkers.” I let my voice go low and harsh. “Even met a couple of them flitting about. Did you know that some keep people as… as pets? Weave songs to empty their heads and stop them from… from…”

I trail off and glare at the waters. Letting the silence thrum with the words I won’t share.

Not my stories to tell.

“I’m so sorry.” They say after a long while. “You father always… he told me to stay clear of them. But never really why. I… I didn’t really think much of their strange habits before.”

That makes me wince at the memory of him. “Yeah. Same. He… he kept me well and clear of them when we traveled together.”

Another pause. This one is shorter.

“I won’t let this happen again.” They murmur. “Unless they need to hear it from me, please convey my apologies to the Matron and… and Duenna Raska. While my mistake was one born of stupidity and not malice… I’m more than willing to try and make amends. Prove my goodwill toward them and their rules.”

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I shrug. “I’ll let em know. But… Honestly we all lucked out a bit. None of her girls saw you and Raska didn’t burn you to ashes.”

“Is…” They start to ask, then shake their head when I give them a quizzical look. “No. It’s not my place to ask. I don’t have that right.”

“Oh? Ask what?” I settle into a more comfy position. One that should sing of subtle forgiveness. “You can ask me pretty much anything, Usete. There are things I won’t tell you but… You’re practically my sibling, what with how you learned so much under my dad and traveled with us so often.”

They take a deep breath. “It seems a sensitive topic, and I know our mother’s no doubt asked but… Why is Lyra half covered in burns? Is something stopping her from healing them?”

I wince. “Well… Dreamer’s Tits. Yeah. That’s…”

“You don’t need to answer.” Usete assures me, hands raising in placation. “Please don’t sing of any pain Lyra would rather me not know of.”

I sigh and slump a little. “I… I’ll ask. But… Yeah. It’s sensitive. Tretion and I can only get her to open up a little to us. We know the shape of it but… It’s honestly one of the smaller wounds she’s trying to figure out.”

They sigh, tears bubbling in their eyes. “I… Awnya. I… I’m…”

I reach out around them, and pull them into a side hug. Can so easily hear the song rising.

One they’ve wept with me for years now.

“It’s okay.” I murmur. “It wasn’t your fault. He… he made his choices.”

My Old Goat. My dad.

They shake their head. “I did this. All of this. My… my anger at my mother for… when I’d heard other Fae speaking of… of how she was raising some human riven with painful Songs. I thought… We always fought her over my work and then I only saw the insult I wanted to hear! Wove such horrid threats over them both when Lyra would have been NOTHING but a gift to our kind.”

“Will be.” I interrupt them.

They jolt to a stop, turn to stare at me.

I sigh and give them a good squeeze. “I’m not sure Lyra will want to leave anytime soon but… Someday we mean to explore the Rifts with her. Show her the wonders of the wider Dream. Usete she… I hope we can show you how special she is. Let you hear the songs beneath the pain and witness what she can do.”

Their brow furrows. But… otherwise they remain silent.

I smirk in memory of her, let my soul thrum as I nuzzle the little smudged love-marks she’s left on my soul. “The Blight is… Usete, she doesn’t just survive it, she weaves it. Drinks it, and those little cuties you’ve no doubt seen swimming about her soul? They’re originally from the Blighted Sea. Given warmth and love and already growing to be such kind little ones despite all the horrific things their mother has survived.”

Their eyes go wide at that. “I… She’s… she’s not just from outside the Dream. Is she?”

I shake my head. “Nope. And I’ve not thought to ask Yuna this but… I’m pretty sure she never actually gifted her a Fae Spark.”

Such tears begin to leak from them then. “She… Awnya are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“Yup.” I grin. “My lover, your sister, is more kin to the first Fae than she is to us. A wandering Soul of Fire adopted by your mother and the Dream itself. And… and maybe, if the Rifts are lucky, she’ll one day consider gifting them some of the warmth she burns with.”

Such emotions bleed from them then. Amazement at their sibling, Gratefulness for my sharing, but… also such pain. Shame for their judgment, guilt for their actions, and… oh.

Dreamer’s Tits. That’s not good.

“I… Thank you.” They turn to face the water. “I didn’t deserve to know any of that. Don’t… don’t…”

Despair. The single worst thing for a Fae to cultivate…

I take a deep breath, and consider my next words for a good few moments before speaking after they trail off. Needing to… to reject old instincts and teachings. Embrace what this place has taught me.

“Nope. Not at all.” I hum, gently letting a song harmonic to the one bubbling in their heart and soul settle beneath my words. “You messed up, really badly actually.”

They flinch, expression twisting as they jerk to stare at me.

Not expecting me to so easily agree.

“And it hurts.” I sigh but… refuse to let them go. “In lots of ways, doesn’t it?”

They nod. “I… Awnya I’m not sure I can help her. Or… or that me being here is a good thing.”

“It is.” I assure them, and lean into the words I think my dad would have said. “Rot and Ruin, Little Softshell, you’ve no idea how much seeing you did for her. What hearing you apologize healed.”

Can almost see the Old Goat’s grin at my audacity.

Their eyes go wide. At both me using that name, a thing an elder reaches for when addressing a silly young Fae needing guidance, and my claim.

“She’s already sleeping better.” I forge ahead. “Has actually asked Yuna to help her with Fae words and talking and such. Literally what could have been decades of hard healing gifted in moments.”

Need to give them a Path, chart a course for their pain to follow. Else it will settle and twist to Rot. Could… could lead them to do something stupid that I’m not sure Lyra could ever heal from.

“B– but… you mentioned once that she was starting to explore but… I’ve not even heard an echo of her movements.” They whisper. “She… she’s avoiding me and… and I… I don’t want to be an obstacle to her healing.”

Nope, I won’t let even a drop of all our happiness be lost.

I snort. “That’s because she’s stopped exploring to help your mom in her new garden. Did you know she’s asked the manor if you're here and working on yours? Is literally waiting for you to settle here so she can help?”

“I… Really?” They whisper.

The hope I can tell sparks is so wonderful to see. But… Not enough.

“Really. Usete.” I move to take up their face in my hands. “She’s always admired you, the first Beloved Sibling she was going to meet. Wanted so much to get to know you. Learn your songs and share her own back.”

Their face scrunches up in pain. “But then I did nothing but hurt her. What if I mess up again? What… what if…”

I sigh and give them a glare. “Little Softshell…”

They sputter. “I… I’ve set a pattern. Easily and so blindly kept wounding her over and over–”

“It’s not about you!” I nearly shout.

Such a long pause settles.

“You know the worst pain you could inflict on her.” I very nearly growl, but softly.

They swallow, eyes dart down in shame. Totally not realizing how easily I read them.

“I’ve been around enough people to know what this song sounds like.” I whisper. “What my dad asked her to gift him nearly broke her. Losing Tretion DID break her. And if you walk that path… She might shatter. May even try to follow in her Beloved Siblings footsteps.”

“I… I wasn’t… It’s… I just…” They stammer, and I’m content to let them stumble into the words. Understand the song that tears and snarls. “What if… if this is just… me? What if I can’t do anything but hurt her?”

I snort again. “Then Sing better songs that match the Fae you want to be!”

That… cracks something. But… Needs more pressure. Something else. A light to follow.

“She may not have learned how to want to be something new from us, but the Fae songs showed her the way.” I blaze forward. “But now she’s lost and confused and… and needs us to help her find the girl she wants to be, Usete.”

The freeze, eyes going so wide as tears freely fall.

“Help us show her that again.” I plead, and let my desperation show. “Please. I… We’re going to do everything we can to help her. But… but she still thinks Thendra is all she deserves. Not all the time but… but we can see it. Can feel it. And between us and her Jellyfish we’re starting to crack at it pretty good but… I’m not sure we can make it stick. Not quickly enough.”

“You… you’re worried you don’t have enough time.” They whisper back, hands moving up to clutch at my wrists. “Between that terrible Fae hunting her and… and Thendra. You’re worried someone or something will come for her.”

I nod, just… just barely holding back a sudden tremble that rolls through me.

“What does she need from me?”

“Just love,” I reply. “And probably your trust. Show her how smart and wonderful and brave and… and perfect she is. Let her hear how wrong all these other cunts are about her. How wrong you were.”

They nod, and that little spark seems to catch. Still small enough to smother but… their love for their little sister is SO strong. “I can do that.”

“Good. Thank you.” I huff and lean back. Releasing them.

Wait and watch as they gaze out at this new Path and all of the many ways it could twist and wander.

“I… I think I’m going to spend the next week here. At least.” They sigh and nod. “Please let Lyra know and… and that I’d adore her company and help in fostering this Grove.”