...Kerr.

Lirelle leaned back and ran a hand through her hair. "Oh, I'm well aware that he's got a habit of periodically running off for a while without telling anyone where he's going. The cloak threw me off at first, since I can't imagine him agreeing to lend it to you, but it makes sense if I assume that he had to leave it behind for some reason and you were simply taking the opportunity to borrow it without permission." She paused. "...That's why I didn't really expect you to know anything. If you're telling the truth, though...?"

My chest tightened as images I didn't want to see bubbled to the surface of my mind, jagged, dark, and indistinct, like the fractured remains of a half-forgotten dream. 

Before the hazy recollections got the chance to resolve into a clear picture, I shoved them back under.

"...If you really remember living through all of this before," Lirelle continued, "then you should at least be able to make an educated guess, based on what he said or how he acted when he got back."

"...You're right," I said slowly, focusing on keeping my anxiety from showing on my face, "in that I probably wouldn't have risked borrowing the cloak if I didn't know just how long Kerr would be gone. That said, I really don't know anything about where he is right now—from what I remember, he was gone for..." I had to think fast. "...Around a week, I think? Maybe a little more? It was a longer trip than usual, and he didn't so much as breathe a word about it even when he got back."

She narrowed her eyes. "You 'think'?"

I tried to give a sardonic smile, but in my current state it was probably a weak attempt. "I suppose you can remember everything that happened seven years ago in crisp, precise detail, then?"

Her brows furrowed. "...I see." She hesitated. "Do you... not remember exactly when he left, then?"

That pause. The careful wording of the question. It... felt like Lirelle was subtly inviting me to take the easy way out, to continue to blame the fact that my memories of this time were seven years distant for my lack of definite answers.

"No, I do," I replied as nonchalantly as I could manage. "It was the day before yesterday."

Her expression seemed to relax ever so slightly. "So he was still here when you first woke up in the 'past'? Did you mention any of this to him?"

Yes, he was still here. Of course he was still here.

"...I didn't."

"Why not?"

I looked down at my hands and rubbed at the side of my index finger. "Well..." A tangled knot of dark emotion quietly seethed in my chest as I thought back to that day, and when I opened my mouth to continue, I found myself choking on the words, throat constricting slightly as though the memory was trying to strangle me. 

My nails dug into my palms. For a few eternal moments, it was silent, and when my voice finally came out, it was low, bitter, and strained. "...A lot can change, in seven years."

Lirelle didn't answer, and I didn't bother looking to see what expression she was making.

I sighed and turned my gaze back to the window. "...Can we take that break, now?"

There was no response for a while.

"...Sure," she said at last.

After the somewhat uncomfortable way things had wrapped up, Lirelle left to go 'look into some things', and I spent the majority of the next two hours alone in the room, idly watching the water run through the brook outside the window and mulling over how the conversation had gone. On one hand, I was relieved to have succeeded in getting her to hear me out despite how tense our first interaction had been, but on the other... I'd managed to give myself an entirely new problem.

If Kerr supposedly left two days ago, and was gone for a little over a week, then I guess we would expect him to return around a week from now.

...What would happen when he failed to show up?

I felt beyond stupid. I'd had three entire days to prepare, and yet not once had it occurred to me that I might end up being afraid to tell Lirelle the truth. Certainly, I'd never expected it to be a particularly easy discussion, but given my familiarity with her, I'd had a strong sense that as long as I was sincere and explained things properly, it would work out one way or another.

...Maybe it would have, still.

It did seem like she'd accepted the possibility that my unbelievable story was true fairly readily, all things considered, so perhaps I didn't actually have all that much to worry about. It was just... the way she looked at me, distrustful and guarded, was in such stark contrast to what I was used to seeing from her that it felt as though I was talking to a different person entirely. Plus, she'd called him Kerr rather than Mucker—twice now, at that. Never before had I heard Lirelle drop the teasing nickname when referring to her distant cousin, nor likewise seen her show any sort of genuine concern or affection for him. 

How was I supposed to anticipate and prepare for her reaction when I so clearly didn't know her as well as I thought I did?

At some point during my quiet introspection, Nassia brought me another cup of water, along with a shallow basket containing a bit of sliced bread and cheese and an assurance that I could have as much more as I liked. Fortunately, I was recovering quickly—so quickly, in fact, that it raised even more questions as to what might have caused the sickness in the first place—and soon all trace of the nausea and dizziness had faded, leaving me able to at last eat some of the food and hopefully restore some energy.

...I suppose that in the end, if I don't have the confidence to admit to lying now, there's only one real option: use this week to convince Lirelle beyond a shadow of a doubt that I really have gone back in time, and that if nothing is done, the world is going to end.

There was no point in trying to maintain the deception long-term; I would almost certainly be found out sooner or later. This was a game of damage control—whether I decided to come clean before the inevitable discovery or claim ignorance in response to it, Lirelle's trust was paramount to minimizing the fallout of my mistakes.

I'll need to write out a general timeline of important future events I remember... also, as much information as possible about the mana collapse—what likely caused it, just how dangerous it actually is, the warning signs to watch for, about mana storms, haze, and poisoning—

Stopping myself, I took a long breath, exhaled slowly, and climbed off the bed.

...One thing at a time.

My muscles were stiff and in desperate need of stretching, but my body felt light and my head was clear. Good, because if this was the plan I was going with, there were some things that I'd need to take care of first—things that needed to be done alone, and preferably sooner rather than later.

I stepped into the short hallway and glanced in either direction, trying to get my bearings in a house I'd never actually set foot in before.

"Nassia," I said in greeting as I stepped into what was probably the main room of the house, containing a simple stove, a hearth, some cabinets, shelves, a dining table, plenty of seating, and scattered atop it all, a large variety of intricate little carved wooden knick-knacks.

The older woman sat in a rocking chair by the hearth, in which a small fire crackled. Although my view was obscured by her arm, she was once again focused on fiddling with something (or perhaps multiple somethings) in her hands. Upon hearing my voice, she lowered whatever it was and looked over at me with a satisfied smile. "Ah, so the pretty boy is up and about, I see," she observed, though there was no one else around to hear it. "How are you feeling?"

Jokingly, I gave her my most charming smile. "Are you so mesmerized by my beauty that you can't remember my name?"

She snorted and turned her attention back to whatever she was working on as she answered fondly, an amused look on her face. "Late last night, Lirelle dragged her student out of bed to go get you—I only caught the tail end of it, but apparently they were arguing the whole way there and back. I think poor Mirea was in disbelief that Lirelle wasn't really paying attention to your looks, but it ended up sounding like she was actually just obsessed with how pretty you'd become. I've been teasing her about it."

...Ah, well that certainly explained the brief interaction I'd heard after waking up. I found myself laughing softly as I imagined it. "...Well, anyway, I'm feeling much better, thank you." I hesitated, looking over at the front door, but curiosity got the better at me and I made my way over to the hearth first instead. "...What is that you're working on?"

Leaning over Nassia's shoulder, I could finally make out what she was holding—a little chunk of smooth wood and a small, sharp-looking blade with which she was expertly whittling away at it. This particular piece appeared to still be in its very early stages, but seeing her practiced movements was more than enough to tell me that this was where all the other wooden carvings about the place had come from.

She stopped and turned the wood over in her hand, tilting her head at it. "Hmm... I'm not really sure, yet. Are you going out somewhere, by the way?"

"Just to get some air. I'll be back."

Nassia nodded to herself. "Sounds like a fine idea. Did you find your cloak?"

I glanced about, and immediately its pitch black silhouette stood out from the wall upon which it hung. For a few seconds, I just stared at it. "...I did, but I think I'll be fine without it. It's nice and sunny out there."

"Well, it'll be there if you find it getting chilly and want to come pick it up."

...That's fine, I have a feeling I'll be keeping nice and warm today, I thought, but didn't say out loud. 

"Alright, thanks," I answered instead, and stepped outside.