"What do you want, Luneth?"
The yellow-furred biped came to a stop a few paces in front of the stairs, his eyes closed and hands held behind his body. If Sue didn't know any better, she would've assumed him to be sorry about something. Discarding that possibility, she narrowed her eyes and reached a hand to shield Joy, only resulting in the girl craning her head to look around it.
Basil looked back and forth between them, but opted to remain silent.
"^On behalf of my wife and son, I give my utmost apologies, Sue,^" Luneth began in a slow, pensive voice. "^Their actions have been unmeasured and harsh, wholly inappropriate towards you as one of the Pale Lady's chosen.^" His already low-held head lowered further still, approximating a bow.
Sue's eyes narrowed and mouth creaked open. A dozen questions fought with one another to be let out first, most of them brought on by disgust. She didn't believe for an instant the apology was genuine, especially in its supposed origin from the people that had already harmed her, but that was somehow the less startling fact about this entire confession.
"Why are you the one to apologize for them?" Sue asked, unnerved. It would've been in poor taste for anyone but small children, and doing something like that with stuck-up adults somehow painted them in an even worse light than not bothering to begin with. "If they're somehow actually sorry, they can do so themselves."
To her surprise, it was the other psychic who seemed more surprised than she was, looking at her wide-eyed. "^Oh no no, that would be entirely improper for them to apologize directly as your superiors, Sue. It is my duty as your inferior to show deference in their place.^" His tone was that of a kindly schoolteacher—not minding having to explain the topic at all, but surprised at some level that he even had to do so in the first place.
Whatever startle had been there in Sue's body was now thoroughly replaced with scorn. Was this all this was for him? Some kind of performance motivated by the insane racial hierarchy that Root had alluded to in her most recent conversation with him? A display not of genuineness, or of good will, but merely of sterile manners? There was mocking her, there was rubbing it in, and then there was this.
And the worst part is that he thinks he's doing me a service.
A part of Sue wanted to know nothing more of how that 'hierarchy' worked than she already did, lest the knowledge infect her brain and transmogrify her into a nineteenth-century phrenology enthusiast. Still, curiosity lingered in her, a morbid sort eager to hear the extent of absurdity involved. Even if Luneth would merely think he's doing her a service by 'enlightening' her, she could hopefully still get some laughs at his expense.
"'Superiors' in what way?" Sue asked with her best mocking tone. "As far as I know, we're all Forest Guardians, aren't we?"
"^Ah, but...^" Luneth trailed off, staring her in the eyes but for a moment. An icy chill ran down her back, but whatever he'd done, he opted to simply continue. "^Blood purity is of utmost importance, Sue. My dear wife is of purebred sort, her ancestors all Forest Guardians for the past five generations. And, with me as their father, Nightbane and Snowmoon are both half-pure, and so they are Solanum's inferiors. Your ancestry is unfortunately unknown to us, and your skin is bereft of Her blessings, and thus we must assume your family tree is more dappled than this entire village, making you an inferior of all other Forest Guardians, and a superior of all other kin.^"
The most sardonic strand of thought in Sue's brain was eager to point out that this was somehow more lenient than the various racial purity rules back on Earth, before being countered by the corollary that there just might have been nowhere near as many Forest Guardians around for their clan to be as extreme as they wanted to be. All the other neurons, however, were staring at the other psychic in disgust, including the ones responsible for her facial muscles.
Basil, for his part, was just dumbfounded. "That sounds so silly! They don't even look any different who'd even keep track of anything like that!?"
Luneth's reaction was modest, but instantaneous. His gaze narrowed at the gregarious insect in thinly veiled annoyance—which, considering the clinical and entirely uncritical way in which he'd explained his clan's views on race, might've been entirely down to Basil's kin.
Sue's thoughts were aligned with Basil's point, but she knew full well that trying to nitpick the whole thing on a purely logical level would lead her nowhere. She'd achieved nothing from talking to Root, and if anything, Luneth was exponentially more sure of himself on that front. As far as he went, this wasn't a theory or a custom; this was a natural law. An axiom.
An axiom where he's the loser in the equation.
Sue yanked at the thread and followed it. If Luneth was Solstice's family and thus presumably lived with them and other Forest Guardians, it meant that he was the inferior of basically everyone around him. Root at least had the advantage of positioning himself quite high on the hierarchy, and Nightbane at damn near its top—what did Luneth have?
What did Solanum have, either? She sure didn't have any less of a hard-on for this hierarchy; why in the world would she have hooked up with someone lesser? Someone declared inferior by his very kin, downright doomed to 'taint' her bloodline?
...
Fucking Duck, I feel greasy just thinking about this stuff...
"What do you have to gain from rules like these?" Sue asked. She knew full well that her interlocutor didn't see it as a system of 'rules' any more than she saw gravity as just some guy's wack idea, but she refused to deign what she'd heard with any firmer label. "And furthermore, if that's really the case, why in the world would Solanum have chosen you as her mate?"
Her rhetorical blow struck true, drawing the flimsiest of shudders out of the yellow psychic. His arms flexed, hands fidgeting behind his back, before crawling back to normal. Sue was fearing either defensiveness or aggression in response, utterly defenseless against either. Instead, all the pathetic man in front of her had to show for himself was a somber acceptance. "^I have wondered much the same myself. Ultimately, it was little more than a youthful, misguided love. One that an older, wiser Solanum would've certainly avoided.^"
For an overlong moment, all Sue could do was stare. No excuse, no anger, just an immediate, unquestioning, self-negating agreement. What could she possibly say to someone who believed that the love of his life starting a family with him was a mistake on her end? How does one argue against such a degree of self-hatred? Is such a thing even possible?
Not with words, that's for certain. "How can you say that??" Basil buzzed out loud, agitated and concerned in equal measure. "You can't think that, you can't say such things about your—AHHGH!!" His words were cut off by a piercing noise, half buzz and half shrill grinding of chitin against chitin. He collapsed where he flew, pressing his stingers into his head, trying to soothe the sudden, stabbing pain. His little one fell on the grass beside him, crying in ultrasonic squeals.
The faint glow on Luneth's eyes faded an instant later, and his attention returned to Sue. "^No matter how unfortunate the truth, we have to live with the Fates arranged for us. Even mere contact with me has lowered my wife's standing immensely, not to say anything about her own daughter escaping and mixing in with night kin of all things. Worry, not, however—for any standing lost can in turn be regained, with the right show of virtue. And few acts are as effective in that regard as curtailing one's misbehaving children, and bringing them back into the fold.^"
Sue and Joy's first instinct was checking on Basil, the metal girl crying out in fear at seeing him collapse. Her mom redoubled her efforts to keep her safe, holding her tight to her side, hoping to avoid another act of aggression from the monster before them. But at the same time, Luneth's words offered a piece of bait Sue could not resist following, not when it could fill in a few harrowing blanks on the puzzle in her head.
Her heart was hammering too hard for her to even notice the creak behind her, or the murmurs in the slowly gathering onlookers.
"I-is that why she's here? Why you're all here?" Sue forced out through trembling lips. "To bring Solstice back?"
"^Certainly, that was the original intent. However, my wayward daughter is nothing but stubborn—got that from her mother, certainly,^" Luneth's stoic expression cracked for an instant, flashing a faint smile. "^I've given up hope on her ever seeing the Pale Lady's light ever again. Fortunately, the degree of one's offspring doesn't matter, merely that they're rescued from this abominable heresy.^"
Comet...
Sue's breath was stuck in her throat, frozen as everything came together in her head. This wasn't some grand plan by their clan; by all indications, it seemed to be Solanum's plan more than anything. But then, why was Nightbane here—
"^Fortunately for you, Sue, we are open to all of Her chosen kin, even the most muddled of bloods. The shame of such standing must certainly weigh on you. And there is no better way of purifying oneself than to marry into a more pure bloodline.^"
In a blink, where there was just Luneth, now stood both him and Nightbane. The Forest Guardian looked at her with pity, his expression dripping with magnanimity he was so eager to share with her, for her own benefit, of course. And then, his eyes twitched to the side, finding the panicking limb eater in her arms. Then again, to the hideous, sprawled-out insect and its spawn. And last, they twitched upwards, dispelling more and more of his pretend benevolence each time.
A loud whistle forced Sue out of her startle, leaving her reeling backwards as Lilly landed on the bottom of the staircase, furious and rearing up for a strike. And yet, Nightbane's glare did not waver, still affixed above Sue. With a panicking glimpse, there she was, Sundance leaning on the doorway, blazing wand in paw, aimed toward the threat.
The standstill lasted for but a moment before another voice joined in. The volume of the piercing squawks and cries felt disproportionate to the size of the blue cloud bird Sue had seen a few times, but they were certainly effective. They hovered beside Sue, their ire deadset on Nightbane. Their squawks—no, warnings—continued to escalate until they were backed up by an eerie purple glow forming around their beak.
Whatever it was, it proved sufficient to make the two wretches buckle first. Nightbane flashed Sue one last teeth-filled grimace before turning tail and running away. Luneth shook his head in disappointment and teleported away seconds later.
Sue didn't notice the psychic tingling in her mind right away; her attention immediately jumped back to her friend. Basil had stopped writhing, but was still in obvious pain. She knelt beside him, mindful of his stingers, and examined him for any signs of harm. "Basil, are you okay!?"
He nodded weakly and shuddered before trying to turn his body. Sue realized what was up and quickly passed his son back to him. The caterpillar's panicking squeals soon died down at his dad's touch. "No fear now, no fear..." he soothed, wincing every other word.
With Basil ending up alright despite his assault, Sue's attention jumped to everyone else. A wordless thanks to the blue bird, an even tighter hug for Joy, and a swift acceptance of the hug that Lilly soon offered. Fortunately, nobody but Basil ended up hurt. Startled, terrified, subjected to their fears coming alive—but not hurt. Not yet.
Sue scooped Joy into her arms, rocking her from side to side. "It's okay now, Joy, they're gone."
The girl nodded and leaned further into her mom's touch. She had no idea what exactly was said between her and those nasty people; all the exchanged words flew straight over her little head. What she was confident of, though, was that she liked exactly none of it. "S-scary they..."
"Nah Joy, they're big smelly cowards!" Basil chimed in, still lying flat on the ground. "They ran immediately once they got outnumbered! That's what cowards do, ain't it?"
Sue appreciated Basil's optimism, but wasn't sure how helpful it'd be here. "I don't think—"
"Right, you! Cowards, bullies, they!" Lilly doubled up, the previous fear evaporating into triumphant mockery. "Only attack because weak us! Enough us, run they!"
Basil buzzed in approval. "You got it, Lilly! See, Joy? As long as we're all here, you have nothing to fear from them!"
The Forest Guardian just sighed. For what it was worth, the reassurances were working on the metal girl, her little eyes intently following each addition from either the bee or the dancer. Sue was doubtful of their confidence—especially in light that nobody had actually tried to help until Lilly and the cloud bird stepped forward—but figured a white lie was appropriate to soothe Joy's obvious fear. "I'm not gonna let them hurt you again, sweetie."
Here I go once more, making promises I have no feasible way of keeping.
"How about you, Sue?" an older, well-familiar voice asked, dragging the focus of the conversation back to her. Sundance was standing on the bottom step, leaning heavily against the wall. "Did they hurt you?"
Sue shook her head. "No, no. Just tried to intimidate me, I guess. Probably not how Luneth saw it, heh." she breathlessly chuckled, leaving both the bee and her crush even more confused. "Does... do they..."
"Actually believe all that?" Sundance finished the sentence for her. "Some of them do, yes. Luneth does for certain, you felt it yourself."
The Forest Guardian let out a weak nod. She certainly felt and heard it, the whole self-annihilating nine yards. It was incomprehensible. "How does one believe something like that? How can he of all people just, just buy into it so unquestioningly?" Sue blurted out, all but begging for a way to make it make sense.
Sundance wished she had a complete answer to Sue's question. "How does one accept an injustice like that aimed at oneself? Depends on how generous you feel. A systematic self-delusion to ensure one's safety in an unjust system; clinging to it to stick up to one's oppressors; an unquestioning, dead-eyed obedience. Loathsome as he is, though, I think I'm personally leaning towards the former."
Sue couldn't understand. Probably would never be able to. Once she let go of the impossible dream of comprehending such a mindset, though, she felt the confusion emanating from next to her and filled Lilly in. "Luneth explained the whole 'purity' thing to me, as far as Solstice's clan sees it. It's based on how 'pure' your bloodline is, and the less Forest Guardian blood the less 'pure' it is. And stuff like that," she added, the tone making it clear she'd rather not elaborate. Partly because Luneth's abbreviated explanation was nowhere near enough for a full-blown lecture, partly because a complete explanation would've been the kind of cursed knowledge that turns one into a Lovecraftian protagonist.
Lilly spent all of five seconds before summing it all up for herself. "Gross."
Pretty much.
"Indeed," Sundance flatly summed up, and looked up the staircase. Spark was peeking out of the doorframe, just as shaky as her mom. And on her head, a silhouette Sue wasn't yet familiar with, but had a good idea who it was.
And she couldn't help but smile. "Hey Sparkie! Hey Twinkle!"
The younger vixen waved back at her, but before she could respond, the silhouette jumped off her head and down the stairs, half-running and half-tumbling towards their mom. Sue and Sundance alike shared a brief worried look, less so about the hauntling themself and more so about their fresh new outfit, but it took the stress-test like a champ.
And the ghost inside was ecstatic. They couldn't concentrate enough for words; instead, reaching out in the air with several tentacles and waving them all at once, shaking their entire outfit as they squirmed from side to side. Yellow skin, tiny black tail, arrowhead ears, rosy cheeks. Judged honestly, it wasn't very convincing as a disguise. But it didn't have to be. Twinkle didn't have to pretend to be someone they weren't.
They just had to feel more comfortable as themself.
Once Sue extended her arm towards them, they immediately scrambled onto their favourite perching spot, finding the balance much easier to maintain this time. Their shapeless self was still very light and barely felt like anything against her skin, but it didn't matter. Feeling them on her shoulder, in all their magical, ghostly, relaxed self, made Sue feel much happier than any physical sensation could.
"And what do we say when someone does something nice for us, Twinkle?"
Just as with Joy several days ago, the hauntling didn't know. Granted, there was a chance they were also too distracted by the hype of having an outfit they liked to even make out Sue's words, or to focus enough to respond.
Either way, a demonstration wouldn't hurt. "You say—"
"Th-thank you!" Joy filled in, sending the rest of the group giggling.
"Thank you indeed!" Sue barely held back laughter. "Thank you, Sundance," she repeated, more earnestly. "And thank you Basil, and thank you Lilly, for stepping up back there. And thank... whoever that was, too. I owe them one."
"Cirrus is plenty happy to see Joy being loved, you do not owe anything to her! If anything she still thinks she owes you!" Basil reassured, picking himself off the ground. The name tingled something unpleasant in Sue's memory, but she let it slide. Whatever the bird had done in the past, this surely made up for that and then some.
"Glad to hear. So, we all ready to get going?"
Once Joy was passed back to Lilly's arms and Sue retrieved her cane, it was time to resume their earlier plans. The jubilant glee radiating from just a few inches next to her head made it difficult for the stress of the earlier interaction to cling to Sue's mind, but some of it persevered despite Twinkle's best efforts. Sue hadn't really thought about where she wanted their language lesson to take place, but she now preferred it be closer to Sundance's place than the big clearing, just in case.
There was the smaller clearing that Willow and Orchid had lectured at a few days ago, but it was discarded on account of her not being as familiar with that part of the town. Instead, Sue opted for the daycare area she's been to with Joy a few times already. She figured the surrounding noise might make the learning a bit difficult, but the familiarity would more than make up for that, comfort-wise.
The blue cloud bird's presence ought to help, too.
Still, she had to get her hands on paper and something to write with. To her relief, Willow's clinic turned out to be empty, though she couldn't deny that having her bandages changed right about now would've been nice. Either way, the clinic had what she was looking for, and even with the concession of one sheet of paper going the kids' way, the two she took for herself were probably enough for the first, pronunciation-heavy lesson. Now just a loose plank to form the writing surface, and voilà! A notebook befitting her circumstances.
It was time to get seated.
Understandably, the bird she was looking forward to turned out to be absent once she arrived at the makeshift daycare. That didn't mean the place was bereft of familiar faces, though. Splitleaf was there, looking over the youngest in Moonview, and so were a bunch of the kids she was familiar with. They hadn't noticed their arrival—the recently installed swing was a far more entertaining attraction—and for that she was thankful.
Sue sat down in the same spot as Astra had just a few days prior, and Joy could tell. The girl looked around the clearing and across the skies, hoping to spot her other guardian, but only found grey clouds and the less enjoyable kind of familiar faces. She huddled up to her mom at the thought and sat on her lap while she got ready for her lesson.
"Think kids help if need?" Lilly giggled as she sat down, curiously watching Sue's preparation.
"I don't know, and frankly I'd rather not find out," Sue replied. Even if she was on better terms with the kids than she used to be, that didn't mean any of them were suitable for a teaching role, about anything. Besides, even if they were the brightest and purest of angels beneath the skin, and the most eloquent in the world on this specific topic, being hounded and corrected by ten voices at the same time didn't sound encouraging. Hell, even three voices were two too many.
Still, that was just an unpleasant theoretical, as opposed to the pleasant practical of giving her kids something to do in the meantime. "Joy, Twinkle, I got you this sheet of paper and charcoal for drawing. You're welcome to draw anything, but I'll be trying to focus on learning the language with Lilly, so I'll be a bit distracted. Okay?"
Sue had no idea how many words made it across the brain-air-brain barrier unaltered, but the answer seemed to be "enough to get the point across." Twinkle grabbed the nearest loose sheet and yanked the charcoal stick out of Sue's hands before getting into their creative endeavor. Them also grabbing the plank Sue had intended to use as a drawing surface was less than ideal though, especially since it wasn't like they had any others lying around—
"Here! *CRACK! CRACK!*"
Lilly's interjection and the pair of wood-snapping sounds got rid of any element of stealth that might've been present before, drawing everyone's eyes towards their group for a few moments. More so to her than to anyone accompanying her, much to Sue's relief. And once the Forest Guardian's heart calmed down from the sudden noises, she approved of Lilly's obvious solution to their issue, sliding the largest piece of wood from under Twinkle's page and replacing it with the smallest.
Joy sat idle off to the side for the time being. The girl had gotten distracted by seeing her playmates around, but without Spark around, and with her mom not able to focus much, she was content to look at rocks around the treeline, examining every little pebble she ran into.
And some seven feet away, Sue racked her head on how to address the other major logistical issue.
"How do we wanna do this, Lilly? When I'm linked with you with the psychic stuff," Sue gestured between their heads, "I don't really hear what you're actually saying with your mouth. But then when we're not linked, I can't understand what you're saying."
Lilly nodded intently, 'hmm'-ing out loud. Sue already had a vague idea of how to tackle this, but hoped that her crush could come up with something less... annoying.
And unfortunately, she couldn't. "Sound like have to not connect when speak I," she offered, and was met with a deflated sigh and a nod. If nothing else, it'd double as a practice of Sue's psychics.
"Sure. And if you want to say something so that I understand, you can just raise your hand. What are you gonna say first?"
"Simple sentence! Very easy. Then repeat you!"
Here goes nothing.
Sue nodded and closed her eyes. Her fingers gestured as her hand lay on her lap, first making a scooping motion before suddenly yanking on an invisible thread. Invisible or not, both girls felt something change in her heads, and knew it was go time. Sue grabbed the piece of charcoal and leaned in, ready to make notes and focus her ears—
"~Mamasamsamwooroon!~"
—before the reality of the task she was up for hit her like a brick to the horn. Lilly's delivery was beautiful, but it was also fast, to the point where Sue had no idea even how many words the sentence she'd just heard had. Or the faintest clue of what it meant, but that went without saying. The Forest Guardian stared at her tiny, approximate scribble, and felt her heart sink at the thought of having to mutter it aloud.
Here goes nothing. "Mam ah samsam, uh, wooroon? Woorune?"
Lilly's blank stare was almost amusing enough to offset the unpleasant feeling in her stomach, but it was a tremendously large 'almost.' Before Lilly could even lift her hand up, Sue closed her eyes again and remade the link between them, also severing Joy's and Twinkle's while she was at it. She'd need all the focus she'd be able to get.
Sue didn't beat around the bush. "How bad was it?"
Her crush was taken aback at the bluntness and shook her head. "Not very bad!" she insisted.
"Really?" Sue bounced back, unconvinced.
"Need more train, and not hear tone, but worse can be!" The technical truth of Lilly's reassurance did little for Sue, but the mention of tones did. Namely, it split her face with a wince at the one facet of her new existence she'd managed to completely excise from her head prior to that point.
"Forgot about the tone part, sorry," Sue reflexively apologized. And then caught herself, shoved the words back into her head until they'd transmute into something more productive, and let them out again. "Truth be told, I didn't hear the tone part at all."
It was Lilly's turn to be taken aback. "True? Make tone very clear, I."
No matter how clear it was, it wouldn't be enough for such a tenuous grasp of the underlying pronunciation. "I know and I'm not doubting you, Lilly," Sue explained, unsuccessfully keeping the annoyance out of her voice. "But I still didn't hear it. My language doesn't have tones at all, so I'm not used to having to hear them. Maybe we can try something simpler first?"
"No, no, try again can I!" Lilly reassured. Sue just barely pulled the plug on their link before the dancer repeated her previous sentence, giving her another chance to listen to the correct pronunciation.
And for all her efforts, it sounded almost the exact same. She could make out that the first 'a' sound wasn't flat, and that the couple final 'oo' sounds weren't flat either, but that was where her insight ended. Were they raising? Falling? Something else entirely? Were they even all of the intonated vowels in that sentence?
Saving herself time and embarrassment, Sue skipped her repetition and reconnected with Lilly right away. "I'm sorry, Lilly, but I still couldn't make them out." The apology stirred annoyance in Sue's mind, predominantly at herself for feeling like she'd backslid since the lesson with Daystar a few days ago.
Despite her restraint, some emotions leaked out, and Lilly winced a bit. Weird as it was, Sue seemed to be right, and she'd have to do something even simpler first. "Try, I."
Lilly's wince made its way into both the psychic aura around them and in her translated voice, and the combined vibrations of both sparked a more potent copy in Sue's body. She didn't want Lilly to feel bad; but it was all just so frustrating. Still, it's not like it was gonna get any easier, so it was time to keep pushing on. Not before an unruly thread of curiosity made itself known first, however. "What'd that mean, by the way?"
The farmhand gave her a sheepish smile. "'Nice day is today.' That mean it."
And few things could withstand Lilly's smile, despite everything. "It is, yeah," Sue blushed, taking in the pleasant chill of the overcast day. "Alright, I'm ready for the next one. Pulling the plug now."
It took her crush a few moments to come up with a suitable, simpler alternative, but her excitement once she had was infectious. Sue moved the stick of charcoal lower and tried to clear her head, even closing her eyes to focus every last part of the inter-ear sponge on the words to come.
"~Suuu assa!~"
Still couldn't make any tones, but the sentence was at least straightforward and pronounced slowly enough for Sue to write it down. "Suh assa," she parroted back.
The last thing she expected out of Lilly was a surprised expression, but whatever had caused it, the dancer was keen to stick to this phrase for now. "~Suuu assa!~" she repeated, accentuating the words by pointing her leafy arm at her girlfriend.
The final vowel of that second word was toned; she was almost certain of that. Guess she could just try one extremely forced intonation and if it didn't work, try the other one? Confusingly, the long vowel in the first word also seemed to be toned, but in a different way, as if Lilly herself wasn't sure how it was supposed to sound like.
"Sùùùùùùù assááááá??" Sue forced out, unwittingly ending the sentence in a questioning intonation. She was getting somewhere, Lilly was focusing more on what she'd said; it was just a matter of polishing this. "Sùùùù assáááaa?" she tried again, limiting the intonation at the end, but without any appreciable improvement it seemed.
Before she could give it another attempt, though, Lilly cut in. "~Suuú,~" she repeated just the first word, pointing at her again.
Motivated by having made out the rising pitch, Sue tried yet again. "Suúú?"
A firm headshake, another repetition, another point. "~Suuú!~"
It was Sue's turn to be confused at the growing emphasis. "S-suuúú?" she tried once more. She was getting really close; there weren't any differences between hers and Lilly's pronunciation she could hear, but obviously something was wrong.
"~Suuú, assamoaroo kù!~"
The longer sentence was predictably unhelpful, though Sue's brain clung to that very final word. She faintly remembered hearing it a good few dozen times during her lesson with Daystar, and the associated meaning was right there, right at the tip of her tongue, just,
'You!'
...
Wait, why did she address me—oh my ducking, that first word is supposed to be my name, isn't it.
The sheer force of the facepalm that went through Sue's body threatened to launch her backwards, but her bony rump clung to the ground thanks to the pesky force of gravity. Alright, that was just her name. She knew how to pronounce that part. So there was only one word to focus on. Okay. Okay. She got it. "Sue assááá."
The correct pronunciation of the one word Sue knew how to pronounce in any language had Lilly nodding excitedly, relieved that her girlfriend finally got the point. Now, the other word, and that one was simple—it was wrong. "~Suuú assàààààà,~" she repeated, stretching out the last sound like the most over-engineered and flimsy of dessert doughs.
So this one was a falling tone. Right. "Sue assaaaàà." An encouraging nod, urging her to try again. "Sue assaaàà." A weaker, more tentative nod. "Sue àssàààh..."
Finally, a raised hand; a pause Sue was not gonna disagree with. "Thought you never realize, haha!" Lilly giggled the instant they could understand each other again.
Sue could share in some of the amusement, but the feeling was undercut by the ambient anxiety and steadily building frustration. "Yes I know, very funny. How about the other word? Assaaaàà." Daystar had been nowhere near as strict about her pronunciation, but in hindsight, it was probably out of mercy as opposed to Sue necessarily pronouncing anything right.
"More low need!" Lilly pointed out. "Am," she repeated, but the translation made it impossible to hear the underlying sounds.
"So lower pitch? Still? Alright then, uh, assààà."
"More low!" her crush instructed again.
How?
"Assààààà?" She was pushing it into comical territory; the final sound steadily transforming from an intoned vowel to a guttural noise of anguish.
Lilly just shook her head. "No this, like early but more!"
"Lilly, I'm trying!" Sue forced out in exasperation. "Assàà? Assàààà? Assàà."
"Yes that!" Lilly interrupted excitedly.
"Which one?" Sue asked, hovering her shaky hand over the piece of paper.
"Last of course!"
What did that even mean? Sue had no idea what she'd actually done differently that time compared to earlier attempts. Sure, the sound came out slightly different, but which of the changes she'd made were responsible for it working that time whereas it didn't earlier? Hell, the problem was even more fundamental: what changes had she actually made? It was all just disorganized flexing of different muscles in her mouth in pursuit of an arbitrary-feeling goal neither of them could describe and which Sue could barely hear, it felt like she was just guessing at random and it was so fucking infuriating and—
*grr-growl?*
A familiar noise cut through Sue's spiralling mind, yanking it out of the confines of its skull and towards the metal girl. Her strain was plainly visible on her expression, but she hoped Joy wouldn't notice. "What's up, Joy?" she asked, deflated.
"Rock!" Joy excitedly presented, lifting it as close to her mom's face as she could. Sue grabbed the piece of flint and looked at it from all sides, trying to figure out what was so interesting about it. It wasn't even an interesting color or texture, just the usual smooth, oily grayness.
A part of her wanted to just hand the pebble back to Joy and give her a figurative pat on the head, but she refused. No, that was how her father did things, and she would be better about it, goddammit, no matter how difficult it was. At the very least, she had to try, try to squeeze out some love even while getting tired. "This kind of rock is called 'flint', Joy."
The tyke took the pebble back from her mom's hand, and examined it from around for the umpteenth time. "Pretty f-f-flint," she commented, wrestling against the unfamiliar word. It might've just been a bog-standard rock, but it could very well have been Joy's first time seeing one, at least from this close up.
Wonder if she could start a fire by striking it against one of her fangs.
"They really are pretty, yeah. And so are you!" Sue swiftly followed up, sending both her and her daughter giggling as the latter got back into her rock hunt.
Lilly was watching them with adoration, though not without some concern along with it. The latter could wait, though—there was a lesson to be had! "Ready again try Sue?"
"Maybe we can do this differently?" Sue proposed, her voice unusually firm. "I don't know if that kind of repetition will work the best. Like—I don't even know what kinds of sounds or tones are there, or like the alphabet, or," she cut herself off, and took a deep breath. "Let's go back to the basics again, okay?"
The dancer wasn't sure where that came from or what the point of going over abstract stuff like that would be as opposed to pronunciation itself, but she didn't want to argue. "Okay! What want know you?"
"Moonview's alphabet, for a start." At least that was something she could write down and take with herself.
Lilly just tilted her head at her. "What? Order sound... list?"
Something was clearly not translating across for once, and Sue didn't have the patience to dig into what it was exactly. "Or just like, all the individual sounds. Just, something so that I know what I'm supposed to be pronouncing."
That was a little more coherent for the dancer, and she figured she could try. "Aaaa, uuuu, mmmm, ssss, ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh, bah-bah-bah... help that?" Lilly asked with the confidence of someone who'd just dunked a gallon tub of ketchup over their head.
Sue, on the other hand, was taking furious notes. A, U, M, S, R, B. Most of them sounded different to earthly pronunciations of those sounds in a way she could spot but had no hope of ever describing, but they were indisputably variations on those sounds. Six letters, that was a start. "Thank you so much Lilly, keep going."
"But not more," the dancer flatly answered.
Wait, what? Even beyond the fact that six was nowhere near enough sounds for a full-blown language, there were multiple sounds that were covered by her previous lesson and not this one, like K or Y. Hell, Sue could swear that Lilly herself had pronounced the vowel O just minutes ago, and she didn't mention it at all now? This made no sense. "But... that was just six of them."
"Seven!" Lilly insisted.
Sue wasn't falling for it. "Aaaa, uuuuu, emmm, essss, arrrr, buh. Where's the seventh one?"
"Seven is stop. Uh-uh. Uh-uh. Uh-uh. Hear middle. Uh-uh."
That was the problem; Sue wasn't hearing anything in the middle. These were two identical sounds separated by a pause, a veritable air sandwich. "But there's nothing in the middle, Lilly," she tried not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. "Uh-oh. See, there's only two sounds."
"Two sound and stop! Middle stop!" Lilly insisted.
"But a stop can't be a sound! Like what, you'd have something like 'Su-uhh?'"
Her crush nodded excitedly. "Yes!"
Despite Sue's best efforts, that particular oddity of Moonview's language had effortlessly defeated her. She sighed out loud, looked down at the page, and wrote 'the pause in the middle of uh-oh I guess' as the seventh letter. The furtive dash, so easily forgotten amongst the Kays and Effs and other Gees. Just like everything else in this world so far, she'd just have to get used to it, but this discovery was oddly deflating in a way most others weren't. "Okay. Alright, guess the pause's a letter now, sure."
Still, there were more unknowns. "What about 'K'? Or Yyyyy?" she dragged out the latter to her mouth's discomfort.
"Already said," Lilly cheerfully clarified, her words trepanning Sue's skull. "Bah, uuuuuu."
"But these are not the same sound," Sue pointed out in a way that made her feel like she was going mental.
"Close! Heard same! 'Bah' and 'kuh' same mean! You, you." Sue could just barely hear the underlying difference, and sure enough, those were two completely different consonants whose words ended up being translated in the same way.
Was this just her? Was this just how other languages functioned, and it was a uniquely anglophone skill issue that she couldn't make sense of how this could possibly work? Did this make perfect sense, but her brain was just busy leaking down the sides of her head?
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Okay. "C-could you tell me which sounds mean the same thing?" Sue tentatively asked, trying to get something out of her brain doing naked, oiled-up wrestling with the extra-dimensional linguistic concept. And losing.
Lilly being present in that thought would've made it much more pleasant, though. "Can try! Aaaaaaɑɑɑɒɒɑɑɑæaaaaa! Light sound. OOooouuuuuiiiiiiuuuuuu. Dark sound. SSssssSssszzzzzzssshshhhhh, hiss! Mmmmmmnnnnmmmmmmmn! Hum. Rrrrrrɾɾɾɾrr, like growl! Bah, pah, kuh, duh, pop! And stop! Sense make?"
No, but at least I've written that down.
The seven definite letters expanded into four broad groups of sounds, accompanied by lone A, R, and a dash. All the variations of the former two mapped to the same letter in Sue's mind, so the distinction was unimportant—hey wait a second. Was this how Moonview's language worked too? But with like, half the alphabet as opposed to a funnily pronounced 'A?' It was the insight Sue needed to make some sense out of it all, even if the sheer scale of Moonview's sound-blindedness was difficult to wrap her head around.
On the other hand, it also meant she'd have a lot of freedom with pronunciation, just like the kids had during her lesson with Daystar. Suddenly, her prospects shot way up. Before then promptly crashing back down upon realizing that the prior categorization didn't include tones, which were always destined to be her arch-enemy as a monolingual Scottish person.
"Yes, it makes sense, Lilly." Sue's voice was unsteady, but also resolute enough to keep Lilly from intervening. "What about tones? These are gonna be difficult."
The planty girl was much more optimistic on that front. "No, not be! Easy they, four only! Here, show with hand!"
ONLY!?
"Áááááá! Like fly!" The rising tone was the most straightforward one so far: a smooth, slow climb. "Then àààà, dive back down!" A much sharper descent than the corresponding ascent. "Ááâà, big wave!" The contour was tilted forward a little, but the change wasn't as sharp as with the falling tone. "Last ǎáá, small trench." The initial dip was so abrupt Lilly's hand almost made a vertical line, and the rise that followed didn't even come close to ending up back at the starting intonation. "Of course no tone too, aaaa. Rest."
The four squiggles and a flat line now imprinted on Sue's page were an invaluable educational tool, but one that also intimidated her further. Duckdammit, this would be so hard. Just the thought of having to get that 'trench' one right made her anxious.
Help was on the way, though, even if Sue wasn't the one to notice it first. "Mrs. Splitleaf wait!" Lilly called out. "Sue not hear yet."
On cue, Sue bridged the gap of understanding, almost entirely by reflex alone this time. If nothing else, this was the one area where she was actually making tangible progress, and the thought of that heartened her against the horrors to come. "Hello, Splitleaf. Did you want to say something?"
The leafy mantis gave her a warm smile at her efforts. "Yes, Sue," she began, and took another look at the Forest Guardian. "Two thing. One, know rhyme for tone learn. Little ones learn with it. Two, bandages ugly. Can change I?"
A quick glance down her body confirmed Splitleaf's description of the bandages and then some; her offer received an immediate nod of approval. Sue wasn't as eager about the other point, but sure wasn't gonna say no to any learning materials. "Rhyme for learning tones? As in, a sentence that has all of them?"
The mantis silently confirmed Sue's hunch, her mouthparts too busy spinning fresh silk to elaborate right away. Sue could only sit there and watch her horn and leg be bandaged for a solid minute or two, and she filled up the time—and distracted herself from the uncomfortable sensations—by trying to memorize the tiny letter list. Rewiring her brain to parse all the consonants together wouldn't be as easy as she'd hoped, and she wasn't sure either whether one pronunciation was preferred over others. It'd definitely be one of those things she'd learn with time, but the uncertainty wasn't a good partner for the low-level anxiety permeating the lesson.
Guess the only valid criteria for selecting which sounds to use will be how many inappropriate words I can unwittingly say with each.
"There go," Splitleaf summed up, examining her mouthwork. The bandages were definitely smaller than the last time, but as Sue's brain pointed out, it was probably a good thing. Injuries were healing, which meant less of them needed to be protected, which meant she was getting better. Slowly, but still. The bandage on her leg had gone from an entire reinforced cast to something the size of a green finger or two. By the time the wound fully healed, she'd be just about ready to get thrown out of this world and back to her previous one!
...
Not as funny as she wanted it to be. Nowhere near. If anything, it made Sue look at her healing leg with a brief, longing expression. Maybe if she got herself hurt again, that'd delay the whole sordid plan she was a part of even further? Buy her more time? Get the deity in question to take pity on her?
"Still hurt leg, Sue?" The mantis' dry voice interrupted Sue's anxious spiraling. She was following her line of sight and examining her leg yet again, as if trying to find the source of the Forest Guardian's suddenly painful expression.
Sorry, Splitleaf, that's way up in the heavens. Pissing down on us.
"No no it doesn't hurt, it's just," Sue offhandedly dismissed, before attempting to banish the topic altogether with a flick of her wrist. It wasn't very convincing. "Anyway, what was that about the rhyme?"
The mantis's expression betrayed her doubts, just as her deciding to follow Sue's suggestion betrayed her lack of knowledge about what was really going on. "Well go like this: 'Spring meadow under aspens, mist east.'" The underlying pronunciation sounded rather rhythmical indeed, even if the translated sentence reminded Sue more of her uni's poetry contest than... actual poetry.
"Could you repeat it when I raise my hand?" Sue instructed, grabbing the piece of charcoal and focusing on her page.
Splitleaf made clicking noises that Sue's translation didn't cover, but which didn't sound confident either. "Sure?"
Once more the translation was pulled out, and once more Sue's attention went entirely to her ears. This had to be easier; she at least knew what the possible tones were now, and it was just a matter of getting a single-choice question right. Those were always trivial. She had this.
"~Boh bón ohbow-oh onoh oharroh ohbon.~"
...
This was supposed to have all the unique tones, wasn't it? Sue made one of them out clearly enough, but had genuinely no idea about the others. They were all so squarely under what she instinctively categorized as just 'O' that conscious attempts to parse them as something different ran into a wall of old habits and vanishing ability to actually tell pitch apart.
Furthermore, Lilly's list from earlier didn't have an H or anything of that sort, so that had to go, too. She'd probably just misheard it, anyway. Ditto with W, though that one was much harder to dismiss as just a quirk of Splitleaf's pronunciation. Unfortunately, Sue had exhausted all other answers, which meant that whatever remained had to be the truth.
I think that one was Columbo.
Unaware of the expectant looks worryingly examining her, Sue edited her scribbles to fit the rules she'd heard earlier, scratching unruly additions out until she was left with just 'Bo bón, obo-o ono, oarro obon.' Incomprehensible gibberish, yes, but slightly less syntactically incorrect. Which left just one step now—trying to pronounce it, hoping either the caretaker or her crush would correct her.
Some of Sue's enthusiasm was deflated by finally realizing they'd been waiting for her to do so for a few minutes, though. "Bo bóóón, obo-o ono, oarro obon." Even with just a single tone to keep in mind, having to pronounce it slowed her down significantly, and judging by her earlier frustration with Lilly, she probably got it completely wrong anyway.
Splitleaf just shook her head and tried again. "~Bòh bón ohbow-oh onoh oharròh ohbon.~"
Progress! Not all the way, considering the two additions turned out to be the same tone, somehow, but progress nonetheless. "B-bùùùùh bóóón, obo-o ono, oarrù obon?" Despite her best efforts, her mouth did not cooperate with the idea of combining 'O' with a falling tone, ending up right back at a funky 'U.' For once, the rules of this language were in her favour.
Lilly wasn't all that enthused. She commented something Sue doubted she would've understood even if they'd been linked, but Splitleaf remained resolute. No annoyance, be it visual or emotional—simply yet another attempt.
But this time, with a plan to it. "~Bòh.~"
Sue blinked and realized what the mantis wanted her to do. "Bùùùh."
An unconvinced headshake, but evidently it was enough for Splitleaf. "~Bón.~"
"Bóóón."
A disapproving click. "~Bón,~" she repeated, slightly slower.
Right as Sue was about to put her mouth through the wringer again, she got a different idea. As with Lilly's demonstration earlier, she lifted her right hand next to her face and moved it to match her tone. "Bóóón."
Immediately, a concrete correction from the mantis. She did the same, raising her leafy arm as she over-enunciated the vowel, but then she lowered it right back, the visual aid helping Sue actually hear the difference for the first time. So this was the caret-shaped tone, 'wave' or something.
"Bóóòùn."
Now that Splitleaf had confirmed her impromptu pupil actually knew what she was supposed to say, she could focus on the pronunciation itself. And it sucked. Horribly. But that would come with practice later, and for the time being, it was time to continue explaining the assignment. "~Óhbow-oh.~"
This time, Sue heard the change right away, returning an expression of tentative excitement. "Óóóhbow-oh."
An approving nod. Finally. It was almost enough to diffuse some of Sue's anxiety, but then seeing Lilly's much more doubtful expression brought her right back down to Moonview. Stupid idiot that she was, did she think she was actually making progress? Clearly not. Clearly not enough.
"~Ono.~" Tried as Sue might, she couldn't hear any intonation in that word, prompting her to return it exactly as she heard it, including her hand laying flat the entire time. And for once, she was right—even by Lilly's judgement it seemed.
This time, Splitleaf figured she ought to show the tones proactively. "~Oarrów,~" she pronounced, with her hand gesturing another steady climb. Preceded by an incredibly sharp drop, so sharp Sue straight up could not hear it even with the visual aid. She let out an uneasy noise, and shyly lifted her left hand to gesture a circle. Another repetition. "~Oarrów.~" Same results. Sue just couldn't hear it.
Fuck.
For all her little wins earlier, this loss threatened to undo any feeling of accomplishment she'd earned so far. It was one thing not to hear the intonation without any assistance, but being unable to do so with all the help in the world boded poorly, very poorly. Sue gestured, and Splitleaf repeated the word again, but aside from the bushbug's apprehension, there was still no change to Sue's ears.
No way through but to try, she guessed. "Oarròùghóóów...?"
*whine, whine!*
Before Splitleaf could even process Sue's attempt at a pronunciation, a distorted wailing noise caught all three women's attention. Twinkle less so ran over as much as they ran into Sue's side, their cotton-stuffed head harmlessly banging against her side. Their whines didn't stop even as they embraced Sue's midriff, the cause of their distress refusing to present itself.
Sue stifled a groan and scooped the ghost out of the ground and onto her lap, letting them hold her hand with their tendrils. Her other hand carefully grasped the lower part of their outfit as she prepared to link with them, but before she could proceed, a tactile sensation interrupted her flimsy focus.
"Sand?" she muttered out, for nobody to understand. She wiped it from their side with her fingers, and to her surprise, the ghost felt palpably better once they realized what she was doing. They even began helping themself after getting a good look at what their mom was doing, flicking the individual grains off their canvas shell as if they were insects. Earth insects.
Though, even as much as I like him, the thought of a thousand tiny Basils all over my body doesn't really inspire any positive feelings either.
Even once Twinkle was mostly sand-free, they remained content to stay here. They held onto Sue's hands and stomach, evidently unwilling to part with the former even briefly. Sue had no idea why they got so upset and whether it was really just caused by being splashed with sand, but either way, she really didn't want to sabotage her learning session further by focusing on the tiny ghost. "Twinkle..." she groaned quietly.
Her displeasure was thankfully lost on the hauntling, but equally thankfully not on the mantis. She caught their attention with a few upbeat clicks and gestured them to come closer, before calling Joy over as well. The slightly older girl ran over with her arms full of rocks, but before she could show them off, Splitleaf continued. She pointed to a quiet spot further into the clearing and mimed for Twinkle to follow them. Joy was enthralled by the idea, but the ghost clearly wasn't. At least, not until Sue lifted them up some and held them close to her chest, before gesturing towards the leafy caretaker with an encouraging smile. Which, combined with Joy's audible enthusiasm at the possibility of her sibling joining her, was enough to convince them.
That didn't mean they went without any hesitation or encouragement, but they went all the same, finally letting Sue take a breather in relief. It was just her and Lilly again; a drained Forest Guardian and a regretful plant woman. The latter observation undercut Sue's moment of respite, eyes confirming what her sixth sense had already pointed out. Lilly was looking towards Splitleaf and the kids, nervously fiddling with her hands. Then, she turned to Sue with a wordless apology, but for what exactly the Forest Guardian wasn't sure. That she wasn't the one who stepped up to take the kids' attention?
Either way, that didn't matter anymore. Trying to clear her head, Sue went back to her notes and applied the corrections Splitleaf had conveyed to her earlier. Just the final word left now, and she'd at least be able to start practicing. "Obon," she enunciated, her voice snapping Lilly back to reality.
"~Okun,~" Lilly repeated, remembering to visualize the pitch again. Flat once more, thank Duck.
With the tones established, Sue re-linked her mind to Lilly's and finalized her notes. "Alright, I think I know how to pronounce the entire rhyme now." There was an instant of bright amusement in Lilly's mind at the idea, extinguished so quickly it hadn't even made it to her face, but perceptible to Sue's mind, anyway. Even if the farmhand hadn't meant it, it didn't help.
"Say you, fix I, yes?" her crush asked.
"That's the plan, yeah." Underbaked as it was. "Here it goes: bùùùùh bóóòùn, óóbo-o ono, oarrùhóó obon."
This feels so Duckdamn embarrassing, man.
"Need more all, Sue," Lilly tried to explain. "More up, more down. Spring meadow," she enunciated. "Very down needs 'trench.'"
"I don't know what 'more down' means, Lilly," Sue answered in an almost pleading tone. "I'll try. BÙùùùh bóóóòùn, óóóbo-o ono, oarrùÙÙùhóó obon." The extra emphasis made it sound even worse, but the Forest Guardian hoped it would also result in her tones fitting better.
They didn't. "Just 'eastern' try? Eastern—"
"Which word is it in that sentence, Lilly?" Sue asked, exasperated. "I don't hear the actual words when I'm translating, remember?"
Lilly nodded shakily, and quickly counted on her arm. "F-five word."
"Oarrùùùhóó?" Sue asked, skipping out on the emphasis this time.
"Yes! More down! UuuuuÙúúúuu."
That was exactly what Sue was already doing, or at least trying to do. The noise Lilly made sounded more like a guttural groan than an intoned 'U' and she even put the emphasis on it just like Sue tried to do! Why wasn't it working!? "OarrùÙÙÙghóó!" Sue repeated, frustration leaking through her vowels.
"Less long need. 'Ǔ.' 'Ú.'" Lilly repeated the same sound a few more times, with Sue's ears only occasionally noticing the downward inflection that was supposed to be there. Not to mention that she hadn't yet confirmed whether Sue's frustrated repetition hit the mark or if it was even further off in the la-la-land where her figuring out how to learn to speak this language was anything but a pipe dream!
Sue was not feeling well. But the world would not wait for her, and neither could she wait for herself. "OarrÙgh-*cough*! OarrÙÙhóó!" Her throat was not appreciating the extended exercise course she was taking it on.
"Less long again try Sue. Like 'Ú.'"
Lilly...
"I'm trying, I promise! OarrÙÙhóó! Is that any better? OarhÙghóóó!?"
"Less long and more low. Just 'Ǔ,' Sue."
Sue's airways were hurting with every breath. "I don't know how to pronounce that, Lilly!" she pleaded. "OahÙghóóóó!?"
"Almost, less long now need. 'Ǔ!'"
Was that good!? Did she actually make progress there or not!? And even if so, what did she do to accomplish that!? "Is that better than before? OaÙhóóóó!?" Sue tried to replicate her previous attempt, but to no avail. Her own heartbeat was deafening, and when she wasn't contorting the lower half of her head to repeatedly fail at pronunciation, it was keen to default to a tense grimace. She hated this so much. She was losing it, and she barely even had an idea why. Why was she so angry? Why was Lilly so—why was she not getting it!?
"No no, like before more, like what say I—"
"LILLY."
The only thing louder than Sue's heavy breaths was her thrashing heart. A broken stick of charcoal was staining her fingers, and her furious gaze was crawling up from the page before her to the lady sitting opposite her. The hottest of her anger was burning out fast, but the frustration it had sprouted from wasn't going anywhere. "Please, give me a moment, Lilly."
And then, reality caught up to her again, together with all the feelings her own anger was no longer eclipsing. Splitleaf's surprise, Joy's amusement, Twinkle's relaxation. Lilly's terrified shock.
Oh no.
Words fought in Sue's throat, each of them trying to be let out first, to fix this situation—but none of them did, for the dancer was first. "S-sorry for bad teacher, I..."
"W-wait—" Sue whispered, but it was too late. By the time the Forest Guardian's words reached her, she was already on her feet, walking away. Her thoughts were digging into herself almost as much as Sue's.
All Sue could do was stare, black-stained hand outstretched, as the reality battered her mind. She'd fucked up. She'd fucked up so incredibly much, threw away the one person she'd ever felt anything for romantically, one of the brightest and most lovely people in Moonview, because of what? Her own inability to speak up? Being too fucking stupid to ask for a breather earlier instead of letting everything build up inside her until it was ready to burst!? What the fuck WAS WRONG WITH HER!?
Shock sublimated into inward fury, which in turn needed an outlet. Any outlet, no matter how pathetic.
"FUCK!" Sue shouted out loud, slamming her fist so hard against the grass that it went numb. It wasn't the right place, but she had so many more f-bombs in her, enough to flatten an entire WWII-era German city, and they all needed some way out of her head before they all exploded and took her with them—
But then, they were all immediately extinguished.
"Fahk!" Joy squeaked, giggling to herself at how silly the word sounded.
No no no no no.
"J-Joy," Sue reconnected to her daughter, cutting her off. The shock in her mom's voice was enough to make the girl stop, but Sue had to be clear on this. "Please don't say that, it's—it's not a nice thing to say!" There was no more anger in her voice, only a pathetic plea for Joy to not pick that up from her. Anything but that.
Just like how her own dad reprimanded her every time she overheard him blowing up on the phone when he thought she wasn't looking. Or like when he'd suddenly just shout at her after a long day when she'd made a tiny mistake and then pretend it didn't happen the next day. Or like one day when she came home to find the fridge door dented and his hand wrapped in bandages, before they never spoke of it again. Or...
...
"B-but... but I thought I-I'd... do better..."
Sue's breath was stuck in her throat as the second painful realization hit her, not as explosive but no less intense than the previous one. Much as she wanted, much as she begged for it not to be true, both for herself and the little ones she was now looking after, her desire to be better than her father was just that. A desire. An idle yearning she had not put enough effort into making real, nowhere yet, and whose consequences the people she cared about the most would never get away from. Just like she hadn't.
Her hands instinctively shot up to her face, not wanting Joy especially to see her like this. She begged whoever was watching to shield the girl from having to see her mom at her most pathetic, most upsetting. And fate answered, even if not in a particularly desirable way.
The wet drop that splashed on Sue's horn was not her tears, thankfully.
Repeated jolts of coldness across her white and green skin stirred the Forest Guardian out of further idle moping, no matter how much she was internally begging to relieve more of it. Her practical self took over, the dispassionate fallback in case of dangerous—or at least urgent—situations. Shelter came first; her being a diva could wait.
"Joy, could you get Twinkle? It's starting to rain, we should get going."
The girl was relieved that her mom's voice was nowhere near as distressed, and got to her assignment immediately. Sue's own task was figuring out how to pick herself up from the increasingly damp grass by herself, but the presence of a tree some two feet away was an invaluable aid. Once more, they had not failed her.
Twinkle didn't even pause at the realization Lilly wasn't around anymore. They immediately climbed onto their mom's shoulder, before scooting as close to her neck as possible to shield themself from any more droplets. Sue's head was big, but not that big, and it still left at least half their outfit exposed.
Half less than me or Joy, I guess.
Once everything they'd brought with themselves had been scooped up and either carried by an eager toddler or hidden under her mom's dress to shield it from damage, it was time to get going. Where to, Sue had no idea. 'Anywhere but here' was a start, but 'someplace with a roof' soon took priority. And as Rainfall flies, that meant shambling back to Sundance's place, her metaphorical tail tucked between literal toothpick legs.
The flash of distant lightning and the thunder that followed provided excellent motivation to up the pace, in case becoming drenched hadn't been enough. To Sue's surprise, it only worked on herself and Joy. If anything, it had the exact opposite reaction on Twinkle, prompting them to crawl out of their hiding spot and just... watch. Take in the flashing, rumbling skies, drawn like a moth to a dying, sputtering lightbulb. Their cloudy mind was the clearest Sue had felt it yet, aligned solely toward utter fascination.
It had probably something to do with their past life, but that's all that Sue could surmise before more pressing topics slithered their way to the forefront of their mind. They'd been cooled significantly by all the beading droplets smacking her oversized forehead, letting her tackle them more rationally.
She'd messed up. That wasn't up for debate, though the magnitude of her messed-uppery certainly was. She hadn't shouted at Lilly; she hadn't called her anything bad; at worst, she'd just raised her voice and asked her to give her a moment. And as difficult as it was to give herself any credit, this situation was straightforward enough that she readily admitted that this was An Okay thing to do. Especially with Lilly's teaching style indeed having turned out to not be very helpful in the end. How much of that were her own language difficulties and how much of it was an inability to pinpoint Sue's struggles, the Forest Guardian neither knew nor cared.
But.
Speaking up wasn't bad, but waiting until she literally could not keep her tongue behind her teeth anymore was. She could have and should have spoken up earlier, voiced her reservations with her teaching style before they'd sublimated into a moment of veritable gamer rage that would've made her next-door neighbour at her dorm blush.
Nah, in all likelihood it would've just made them shout at me through the wall to shut up before they went back to screeching while playing gacha games. On loudspeaker.
This was the same kind of stunt her father pulled, and it was just as damaging here. She'd gotten fixated, refused to pause out of sheer stubbornness, and dug her heels in so hard it buried her. Apologizing for it was the easy part; putting her frustrations to words ahead of time was harder—especially with an entirely new topic like this where the most likely reason for her confusion was just being dim and not getting something basic, something the rest of the lecture would build around. Not to mention the enigma of not knowing how to actually vocalize the required sounds with her minimally worn voicebox. She was doing something wrong, didn't know what, and Lilly's attempts to explain the issue only confused her more. A recipe for disaster.
Still, Sue could've dealt with it better. Lilly could've taught it better, or been more receptive to her rising stress. Helping with the kids would've also helped, Splitleaf stepping in was a godsent when it happened.
A raindrop hitting her right on the bandaged tip of her horn cut her idle rumination off. What happened, happened. She had things to improve on; Lilly had things to improve on. The much scarier question was whether this would affect... whatever was going on between them. The response of the union of neurons still able to think coherently in her head was a firm 'no, not really.' It probably meant something for how compatible they were to spend hours upon hours together without a breather of some sort, but that was a conversation for later. Today was barely even a spat, and once they'd both calmed down, Sue could easily apologize—not for needing space, but for not communicating that sooner.
Granted, she'd hoped the same with Northeast...
No, fuck that, I'm gonna do better this time. I have to do better.
With the resolute conclusion fresh in her mind, Sue upped her pace—at least for a few seconds before Joy asked her to slow down. The broken plank shielding her face provided some resistance to the worst of the weather, but her long and wide back maw was do doubt making her freeze over there. "Don't worry Joy, we're gonna get there soon. How you're holding up, Twinkle?"
The lil' ghost didn't respond, still transfixed by the roaring, flashing sky. So familiar, even if so very different from this angle.
A quiet whisper, barely audible through the intensifying din of rain, caught their attention, though. They perked up on Sue's shoulder, dragging her attention towards their wiggling, closer to the barely disguised source of the easy-to-overlook voice.
Once again, Sue's mental reach shot forth, probing what appeared to be just a pile of cloth and wooden scrap under the nearest overhang. Instead, it found a fiery presence, busy cowering from the rain. He levitated into the air upon noticing Sue could understand him now, and extended a single wrought extremity from underneath his off-white shroud towards the other ghost. "What that?" Crackle asked, his flame shining brighter.
Sue wasn't keen to get any more soaked than the lamplighter ghost, scooting underneath the overhang next to him before answering, "Crackle, that's Twinkle. They're my—"
"N-not they," Crackle cut her off. "Skin they." The plain white sheet covering his body betrayed no emotion, but his mind sparked with excitement all the same.
The Forest Guardian blinked before connecting the dots and crouching. "Their outfit? It's something me and Sundance made for them with their help, since they really didn't like their earlier bag." She lowered the hauntling down in her hands, letting the two ghosts examine their external appearances from up close. "Pretty cool, isn't it?"
And then, the realization gently tapped her on the forehead. "Would you like something like that for yourself, Crackle?" The blank sheet covering him was effective at minimizing the danger his appearance involved, but it was far from dignified.
Her question had struck true enough to make the lamp child feel uneasy. "N-N-No..." he insisted to nobody but himself. "Mister Root say good enough this. Need show danger, it."
The anger that tainted Sue's mind in response was bright, but the fear that followed soon after was brighter still. Lilly wasn't around; she was on her own again, with Solstice's family nowhere to be seen. She'd best get going again soon.
Still, she couldn't let what the boy said slide. "Crackle, Twinkle's appearance underneath is just as dangerous as your own. Maybe even more." Her little one shrunk a bit at her words, but it was nothing her touch couldn't help with. "That doesn't mean they don't deserve to look pretty, and it's the exact same with you. Maybe you could ask someone to make a nicer outfit for you?" She didn't want to dump more work on Sundance specifically, but if he wouldn't know who to ask about that, she was always an option. Even if just to recommend someone else.
But Crackle didn't even do that. "B-but this break all time, and more pretty mean more break," he recited an explanation from memory. "Previous two moons only endure. Lots cloth waste..."
"Then that means someone would have to fix it," Sue calmly explained. "And that's okay, right? People fix things for each other all the time."
"R-really?"
While Sue had no idea how much of the generosity she'd received from the people around her was simply due to the body she happened to get stuck in, she believed in Moonview enough to give it the benefit of the doubt. "Yes, really! You could ask Sundance, for example."
His body tilted to the sound of croaking iron. "Who Sundance?"
What!? How does he—he lives here! Does he... oh Duck, he really doesn't get to talk to people often, does he?
"Warm!" Joy eagerly answered while her mom blinked the shock out of her eyes.
"She, she's a bit taller than me, red and yellow, and has those big ears with a lot of red fur," Sue slowly explained, increasingly worried for the ghost before her.
The bedsheet ghost took a few moments, but much to Sue's relief, realization did eventually arrive. "Mhm, mhm! Know I, think I! Sundance name they?"
"Yes Crackle, her name is Sundance. Have you never spoken to her?"
"No, n-not talk people. Mister Root say dangerous, n-n-not know them."
Sue bit her tongue. "But the whole point of your outfit is that it protects other people, right? It's okay to talk to them while you're wearing it. I'm sure they'd be very thankful if you told them you light all the lamps in the evening."
The lamplight huddled closer to the wall, unconvinced. After all, Mr. Root had been very clear about it all, and about his duties. And that wasn't even including the more recent concerns. "N-not know, scary, Mister Root say night kin here."
Still, that didn't mean there hadn't been any good news on that front! "But made friend today!" The shift in his tone was night and day; his dim blue light shining off the pouring rain just a couple of feet away.
"Oh, who'd you meet?" The tension was still in the back of Sue's mind, but with a better picture of Crackle's situation, it'd be a shame not to celebrate even the small wins.
"Small, four leg, gray and r-red little feets. Prank play, they, haha!"
It took Sue a hefty chunk of her spare brainpower, but she did keep herself from laughing. Barely. "Crackle, pfft, that's Pollux. He is a night kin."
She expected shock, or even panic, but what she didn't expect was outright denial. "N-no, not he."
"I've," Sue collected herself, "I have met him before. I can sense he's a night kin, he told me he's a night kin, Crackle." There was an underlying current of sadness in Sue's amusement, but confronting it could wait a bit longer.
The boy hovered in place, stunned by the emphatic confirmation. He remembered Sue telling him that the night kin weren't all scary and had no reason to distrust her, but a realization that someone he'd befriended an hour ago was one of the creatures Mr. Root had spent days warning him about was difficult to process. "B-but..." There was a lot of thinking going on inside that flaming head of his, now that Sue had nudged him towards confronting the contradiction.
"But what, Crackle?" she gently pushed him, her voice relaxing to a whisper.
"...not know," he summed up with a shudder.
Sue outstretched a free hand towards him, hovering it an inch above his outfit before carefully laying it on top of him. In response, he closed the distance and wrapped his metallic limbs around her torso, their heat tempered by his contemplative mood. "Something to think about, Crackle," she smiled the best she could, patting his head.
*rum-ru-RUMBLE!!!*
Still, it was probably best to get a move on before the rest of the thunderstorm got here. "And in the meantime—do you have anywhere to wait out the rain, Crackle? Don't think here will work very well once it gets worse."
He shook his body. "N-no, not know if allowed."
"Well, I thereby formally allow you to shelter wherever you want to during the rain, for today and a hundred years henceforth!" she hammed it up, before taking a deep breath. "Willow's clinic is right around the corner if you don't know where to go."
Crackle gave her a weak nod and let go of her, still processing everything. "Thank Sue..."
With the last salvo of 'take care's exchanged, Sue's family departed the thin overhang to brave the final stretch of the rain. Heavier and colder, but still nowhere near as bad as it'd get in just a few minutes. For all its yelp-inducing snipes on her horns, though, the awful weather provided one boon—almost everyone was huddling inside ahead of the storm, and that included Solstice's family. Hopefully.
Not like I can do much if that's not the case, especially on my own...
She trained her psychic senses on the narrow streets they passed by, finding nothing but familiar souls and mild annoyance at the weather. There was no way in hell Nightbane would show himself again today, not with the cloud bird still on active lookout. Hell, it's not like she was afraid of the weather either. Sue had spotted her overhead a few times, keeping an eye on her. Her cloud wings were soaked, but they clearly had enough lift to keep her going despite that, despite how silly they looked.
And yet, the fears lingered, no matter how many times they'd been shunted off to the back of her head. She had to grow stronger, to be able to defend herself against people like that. The next time she saw Solstice, she had to ask her for an actual self-defense lesson, no reason to delay that any longer. And if the minds she'd sensed while she was conquering the stairs to Sundance's dwelling were what she thought they were,
She'd get to fulfil that wish very, very soon.