Archive of Our Own ^beta

Castti woke up slowly, flopped in a cheap tavern chair. Her dress was disheveled. One boot was untied. Half of her hair had sprung loose from its neat bun, chaotically jutting in a frenzy of pale-blonde wisps. Out of control.

"Ma?" Ochette filled the seat across from her, hands folded on the table, and an empty tankard to her left. Something about her looked different, but Castti couldn't place it. "How are you feeling?"

...A good question. Castti straightened her posture. Flexed her stiff neck, and took stock of her bodily sensations. Breathing: Good. Heartbeat: Strong. Swelling: Nonexistent. "I am well," she replied. "My cure for Trousseau's blight worked wonders."

"Good. ...I-I mean, that's huge. Like the apothecary version of hunting the world's fiercest monster! ...Great job with that." the beastling spoke quietly. Like they were in a stony church, whispering their way through a funeral. Not chatting in Timberain's tavern. "...Also, I'm glad you're not sick."

Castti saw what had changed. Ochette wasn't feverish, or steeped in a sickly red rash. Ochette no longer looked happy. She'd stare down a monster with a cocky grin, laugh out loud through every setback. She'd smile in her sleep- relaxed and closemouthed, having peaceful dreams. ...Now, the beastling was frowning. Her eyes were big, soft, and trained on Castti with Draefendi's focus.

"Sooo, the coronation was fun," Ochette went on, fingers fiddling with her tunic. "They decorated everywhere, had a parade through the town... It was pretty. The music was nice. Ne-ne sto- ...I mean, borrowed you some lunch but I sort of, accidentally ate... all of it." Her ears drooped. "Sorry."

"You're forgiven, Ochette."

"Thanks." She slumped over the table, hands pensively folded. "Yup, everyone had a good time. You saved Timberain. I don't think Trousseau killed one person! ...Um, Ma?" Ochette looked up, still not smiling. "Are you... sad? About Trousseau?"

"Hm..." Castti had to think for a moment.. She looked at her own well-being with a trained doctor's eye. Noted how rarely she'd spy a blue capelet. Since she'd said "Bye" to Malaya, no one wore them but her. She'd been the last.

She thought of horses, the memories they brought. How she'd watch someone lovingly care for their mount, and be seized by the image of Jeyah. Poor Elma facedown at his side...

And she thought of noted her new fear of fire, how much bleaker it looked tinged with purple. Campfires used to mean warmth. Friendship. Safety. Now they'd been redefined, maimed into nightmares!

She noted her own excursions, to spend time alone. They grew more and more frequent, the more she remembered. She'd slip off to powder rooms, alleyways, stairwells... Or into the woods, when they camped out. She'd say she was mixing up herbs, or inquiring with townsfolk. In truth, she used most of these outings to cry.

...And she'd been so excited to cure her amnesia, eagerly searched for these thoughts!

Now the healer arrived at a diagnosis. "Yes. I am sad about Trousseau."

Ochette scrambled up out of her seat, ran around the wide outer edge of the table, and pounced into Castti's lap. Arms enfolding her shoulders.

"Thankyou. A hug helps."

"...Share some jerky?" Ochette mumbled into her blue uniform.

Her health-food instincts protested, but she answered with "Please."

She wondered if she'd eaten this before, Toto'haha jerky. Had Eir's Apothecaries seen the islands? She couldn't recall. Oh, Malaya would've loved the sunset on a beach, in fair weather. With no stormclouds looming overhead...

But right now, Ochette's hug felt warm and solid. The threatening fwssssh of a rainstorm had died down to light drumming. The spice in the jerky felt sharp in her mouth, snapped her all the way awake.

"Feeling better?" The beastling looked up at her. "They cleaned up the last of the poison, so it's just safe, ordinary rain if you wanna play outside."

"I'd love to."

"Yay!" Ochette dragged her up out of her chair, towards the door. "Think you can make a bigger splash than me, Ma? Those puddles won't know what hit 'em!"

Acta and Akkala met them at the door, stinking respectively of fish and wet dog. But Castti still knelt down to greet them, cooing and lavishing pets. The small sea creature wormed up her arm, curled itself round her neck like a scaly scarf, and nuzzled into the side of her face. Ochette laughed, "Acta loves you!"

Castti made up her mind: She would not lose herself in her grief. She missed Eir's Apothecaries all the time, caught flashes of them in a sound, or a smell... All her doting and mother-hen tendencies didn't protect them in the end.

But Ochette had gone out of her way to help Castti feel better. She recalled Andy's laugh. Malaya's glare melting into a smile, her pointed but gentle insistence that even the cheif needs a break. They'd lead good lives, and would want her to do the same.

She ran after the beastling, with Akkala at her heels. Leapt from puddle to puddle, made waves. Untied bootlaces slapping the cobblestone. An apothecary knows well how fragile life is. With or without her old friends, Castti would live hers to the fullest.

So she pounced. Aimed a big splash right at Ochette, who shielded her face, squealed with laughter. Castti's bun fell apart, flopping into a loose ponytail as she threw back her head in a joyous and uncontrolled victory shout.

Her first genuine laughter since Healeaks.