Together Again
In Backspace, Emerald has set up a meeting that will make both groups happier because they have what the other needs. Emerald forgot to mention one key difference.
Callisto/Prophis (1195 words)
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“It’s not exactly common for a Callisto-”
“I’d prefer if you stopped referring to me as ‘a Callisto’.”
“To arrive without his respective Prophis, if they were romantically involved that is.”
“What are you suggesting?” Callisto asks hotly, internally seething at the suggestion that he did not care for Prophis.
Emerald stops walking before slowly turning to the man. “I’m implying nothing, only stating that your group is stranger than we previously thought.”
“Where are you taking us again?” Glib asks before Callisto can lob a fireball at the shadowed man.
Emerald glances down at Glib before resuming his walk. “The group that arrived here before you was odd in a similar fashion. It is rare for those romantically involved to not appear together, no matter those in the relationship, and believe me,” Emerald casts a glance over their shoulder at the group trailing behind them, “I have seen some odd pairings.”
The party gives each other questioning looks, minds wandering to the worse outcomes of these romantic pairings before Emerald draws their attention back. “But it is not only the romantic loss that sets your group dynamic apart.” They stop in front of a bulkhead door and the raspy-voiced individual turns to them, an almost optimistic look on their dark face. “You are also missing a close friend.” Although none of the group says anything, the mood of the room dampens as they separately grieve S.G.
Without another word, Emerald slides a card across a scanner, a green light blinks rapidly, and the door opens as the sound of air decompressing echoes through the quiet corridor. The heavy door slowly opens, and Emerald steps through followed closely by Callisto, Glib, and Goodbid.
Standing in the middle of the room is a group of three people, two of which talk in hushed almost aggressive voices while the third stands to the side of one, face obscured but posture uncomfortable.
“I’m just saying, don’t get your hopes up,” the S.G. variant hisses. They look identical to their S.G. except for a jagged, lightning-strike-shaped scar that runs the length of their face, fanning over the majority of it. If the changeling had facial features, the scar would have horribly distorted them or made them unusable.
“And I’m saying that there is nothing wrong with a bit of optimism,” Prophis says. His hair is braided loosely and pulled to the side, strands of chaos magic glistening in the light. He is dressed identically to the other Prophis, but his eyes are tired, more so than their Prophis’.
“Um, guys?” the third figure speaks up, though his face is obstructed as he half hides behind Prophis, his nervous tone is clear. “They’re here.”
Callisto stands slack-jawed as the other two men step in around him. Emerald shuts the door and walks to the center of the room, allowing the two groups to stare at each other for a moment before he speaks, “Considering your backgrounds are extremely alike, with only a few notable differences,” he nods to the figure still hiding behind Prophis, “the council and I decided that it would be in both parties best interest to combine your groups.” He looks between them before nodding to himself, satisfied. “I’ll leave you to get orientated.” The room goes dark followed by heavy footsteps and the lights come back to an Emerald-less room.
A heavy silence permeates the room before Goodbid takes off his hat and steps forward. “Ain’t no reason to beat around the bush,” he says bluntly before his smile softens at the edges. “We know who you are, and you know who we are, but I gotta ask, who is that hidin’ behind ya?”
S.G. and Prophis give each other uncomfortable glances but the person behind Prophis slowly steps out. He is an air genasi with long white hair, tied back in a similar way that Prophis used to wear his hair. He is wearing a tight black long-sleeved shirt, simple black cargo pants, and work boots. Sticking out of random pockets are numerous tools and the genasi’s face is streaked with oil and soot, making it clear that he was working on a machine before coming to this meeting. On his back is a sword that strikes the party as familiar, but they can’t place where they’ve seen it before.
“Hi,” his voice shakes as he throws a glance at Prophis, making sure the man is still there before gaining more confidence and making eye contact with Callisto. “I’m Reylias, and I’m your son.”
The dark-haired man stares at Reylias, mouth agape before Glib starts laughing.
“God, I wish S.G. was here to see your face!” he gasps, doubling over as his entire body convulses.
“Why is that?” S.G. asks, voice clearly skeptical.
“Because when we met Reylias, S.G. gaslit him into thinking that his dad was Callisto!” Glib explains as he straightens back up. “He almost believed it too.” Goodbid and S.G. cackle as Callisto, Prophis, and Reylias still look at each other like anxious animals.
“Father was never fond of hugs,” Reylias says quietly, “but I had to watch him die without the chance to tell him goodbye.” He looks back to Prophis who nods encouragingly. “And I know that I am not your son, but.” he takes a deep breath and rushes out, “I was hoping to get a hug from you.”
Callisto stands stock still as the room waits for his reaction. Callisto suddenly surges forward and draws the genasi into a tight hug, burying one hand into his hair to pull his head down. Reylias collapses most of his body weight onto the smaller man as he wraps his arms tightly around him. Callisto rubs a soothing hand down the taller’s back as they both breathe raggedly.
Callisto laughs as he pulls Reylias’ face away and cradles it into his hands.
“We always wanted a child,” he says with more emotion than anyone -other than Prophis- has ever heard from him. He kisses Reylias’ temple as tears streak down his cheeks. “I’m glad I finally have one.” He releases the taller’s face and pulls him into his side as he turns his attention to Prophis who has begun to silently cry. “Come here, my dear.” He holds out a hand which Prophis takes. “There are many stories that need to be shared.” Callisto kisses Prophis -which Reylias jokingly gags at- before they devolve into giggles and tears.
S.G. sneaks past the family reunion and joins Glib and Goodbid whose jaws are sitting on the floor.
“That was weird, yes?” the changeling says in their heads to which the boys nod. “Do you want to go to the cafeteria and let them have their moment?”
Glib doesn’t respond, but Goodbid slowly turns his head and nods. They quietly sneak out the door as the happy family tells stories from their respective timelines.
“Happy Callisto is the weirdest thing I think I've ever seen,” Glib says once they’ve reached the hallway, “And I saw a Frankie Goodbid making out with a pastel-colored Zalkas while riding a black Warhorse Friday in the breakfast hall.”
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