Thinking about Thaniel and Halsin reuniting again when he wakes.
Thinking about how Halsin describes Thaniel as having been ripped away from him (just as he was from Oliver). How he was the only one able to see and interact with him; how Halsin is very insistent that Thaniel made him who he became. How Halsin's "very first friend" being an encapsulation of nature itself affected the entire trajectory of his life. How that implies, to me, that Halsin and Thaniel were connected on a level far stronger and more significant than just being unlikely playmates as children - even moreso than just Halsin deciding to become his protector as he aged, or the implication of the relationship becoming more along the lines of a parent and child - to the point of being so interconnected and intertwined, Thaniel evidently uprooted and followed Halsin from the High Forest to its own unpredicted detriment.
Thaniel's being cursed and trapped quite literally *did* rip the two of them away from one another, just as tearing Thaniel's being in two twisted and created Oliver. Halsin feels a hole in his absence - a loneliness and disconnect that eats away at him. He describes losing contact with Thaniel all that time ago as being "worst of all", which is saying a lot considering what else was happening to and around Halsin at the time. And all Thaniel talked about whilst trapped was Halsin, insisting to find him because he was the only one who an entire force of nature itself believed could help it.
Losing Thaniel sent Halsin into a century long spiral; Halsin who blames himself for "dawdling" in his own pain as it suffered. Who could almost place himself in the catalyst of Ketheric Thorm's tragedy of losing his daughter pushing him to the edge. It's the elevated metaphorical adult fear of losing a child and the indescribable sorrow involved in that, mixed with the loss of an important childhood and formative influence, mixed with losing a friend, a piece of oneself, all in one.
I just imagine Halsin twitching in his skin to head immediately back to camp after convincing Oliver to return. Distractedly following behind, but evidently elsewhere, until he is dismissed or the group returns. And he is first to arrive and first to break off to his tent, pulling aside the cloth, lacking any considerable delicacy of action, to see Thaniel sitting up, blinking slowly at his surroundings. Alive; the smell of lavender heavy and sweet. Not dead and rotting, not twisted and empty. Small. Frail. Not quite whole. But alive.
And Halsin...hesitates on the threshold, hands shaking, everything having come to its head at last and he doesn't know what to do with himself. He holds his breath, fearful of any disturbance spooking the life away that they'd worked so hard to revive, until Thaniel turns its eye slowly towards him. Two deer caught in a crosspath of light. A century past and there are hundreds of things to do, hundreds of things he had planned to say to him if they succeeded, but all Halsin can manage is a strained: "It's me."
And he does not need to say who he is; Thaniel knows. All those rehearsed things fizzle away in its face. Halsin is older now, he reasons, much older; perhaps Thaniel will not recognize the century carved upon his brow just as Oliver had not. In a moment of desperation, he needs it to know him. Needs Thaniel to remember - but, fool that he is to underestimate the power of life before him, of course he remembers. Of course Thaniel would recognize him, just as he had recognized him after the long winter had passed - when he had changed so much, and was no longer a little elfling and never would be again. Just as Thaniel had recognized him every springtime after, the thawing of ice bringing another year with it, even as its face did not change at all. It must; his eyes betrayed the centuries beneath his boots, even as the child rubbed fitfully at them.
"It's me," Halsin murmurs again, falling to his knees - as if he could make himself impossibly smaller - bring him back to the beginning, turn back the years before it all went wrong. And Thaniel just nods its head and touches little hands to his face, and when he echos his name, it feels like that first thaw of spring again.
"I heard you calling," it whispers, gentle like summer breezes. "You cried for me to stop hiding. You were frightened and did not wish to play anymore. But when I came out, it had gotten dark. I could not find you."
"I know."
"I called back," he continues, even and intoned, but his lip wobbles. "You could not hear me.
"I know," Halsin repeats, brokenly.
Thaniel blinks a few more times, seemingly working out how to reteach a face long asleep, though there were no muscles to move. A false start later, a twitch of the nose, and he is...smiling. "But I kept trying - I knew you would find me."
A single stick too heavy and the dam breaks. Eyes filled with tears, he hugs Thaniel to him like he hadn't since they were children chasing each other through the underbrush with glitters of gold tangled in his hair. Since Thaniel had guided his hand to make the flowers in his father's garden grow. Since all they'd had was each other under the endless canopy of trees.
"Forgive me," Halsin whispers, a century of pain and loss and loneliness exiting from him in a single rush, the cold empty spaces inside him filling up with warmth. And at last he wakes, dragged violently into the open air after drowning for too long, blinded but alive and whole once again. Interconnected; not alone anymore. The earth sings beneath him and Oliver's spirit hovers just beyond the outskirts of his vision. Halsin chokes on his laugh. "I was never very good at this game."
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One thing that gets lost in ship discourse (or its hyper-positive opposite) is that regardless of your feelings on a ship, in order to tell a story, the character relationships do and should have an impact on a character's story arc, and not all relationships are going to offer the same emotional weight throughout any given character's story.
This is particularly true of actual play, wherein each player character is running a separate story as a protagonist, and therefore you have to consider each of them as an individual thread within one larger narrative, on top of the narrative itself.
That being said, the farther you get into the story and the closer to the end you are, the ways those threads can interweave get culled, simply by circumstances. Relationships (platonic, romantic, familial, etc) change over time, and whether they are narratively compelling changes as well. In contrast, "ship" is generally used to suggest a dynamic an individual audience member finds compelling, which may or may not have anything to do with the narrative, even if the dynamic is interesting for reasons of narrative potential (that isn't ultimately explored within canon). These are distinct concepts in terms of analysis. So as a disclaimer, this post is about character relationships within the narrative as it exists—essentially, what makes the story that exists work as well as it does, in the end.
Now that we've got all that out of the way, let's talk about Caleb.
Caleb's problem for much of the campaign is one of survival and self-preservation. His goal is simply to last long enough to find a way to go back in time. Because that is a very open goal, it doesn't inherently have much to tie him to another character in a relationship sense. He is not looking for that, he does not see himself as worthy of it, and it's really not a necessary narrative question, regardless of what attraction he does have.
But over time (and, I would argue, in a way that is fairly singular among the Nein, but I won't get into that here), his priorities begin to shift. Many of his needs are now met in ways that they previously weren't, allowing him to fully consider what he wants. For instance, between the start of the war and the time they reach Xhorhas, he has changed his mind about becoming involved in this war—because he is not being forced into it by possible conscription. He has significantly more options than he did at the start.
What he ends up realizing, as he finds the opportunity to put an end to the war, is that he cannot trust his own judgment. There is near universal support to end the war—even the nations involved are there because of what they view as existential threats. That opinion is not in question. But everything else is. Caleb is a victim of manipulation and brainwashing, and this is very apparent when he starts pleading with the scourger prisoner of war to give him some kind of proof that people like him can change.
And this is not something that anyone else of the Nein can offer him. They can tell him that they think he is a good person and that they trust him, but because of his history—and because he knows how smart he is, and how far he can fall—this isn't something he can take at face value, especially given that they have not seen or known him at his worst, and have not experienced it either.
Yasha may be able to offer some guidance in that area, but she is working through similar issues at both a different pace and in different ways than he is—she isn't seeking any situation where she would make potentially world-shaping decisions or have influence over others like he would. His goals are singularly risky. Veth comes closest to this, in that she very briefly considers prolonging the war to alleviate her own suffering, but it's not a decision she's ever forced to make.
(Honestly, thinking about this, an arc in which Veth does take that deal with Isharnai is a fascinating alternative universe to consider—it would certainly give her the opportunity to relate to Caleb in this way, but it would probably take another fifty episodes before Caleb could even bring himself to consider forgiving her, given it would be in direct conflict to the one thing he's been working at for a third of the campaign up until then. Still, a fascinating consideration!)
So between Caleb attempting to sway the scourger and going to Astrid's house in secret, this is the point at which it seems like the Nein cannot help him do the rest of the work. They have done a lot to get him here and considering what else he wants! But they can't offer him what that is, which is essentially tangible corroboration of what they've already offered.
And at this point in the campaign when taken as a whole, there's only one character who can actually offer that. Because to have real emotional weight, what Caleb is looking for is someone who is as smart as he has, who has made a similarly horrific decision even in spite of that intelligence, and who has now committed to actual change.
It's the commitment to actual change that is difficult, because it requires a support structure—and in hindsight, there's not enough time left to build that up for someone like Astrid or Eadwulf, but it's already partially in place for Essek.
(We can debate all day long about what could've been different if the hiatus never happened, or the campaign had lasted longer, but this is specifically about the campaign that we have. I think there is also an argument to be made that Astrid or Eadwulf would've required a much longer and more intensive timeframe to reach that point even if the campaign had continued than the format really offered, because they have preconceived notions about Caleb that complicates their ability to take what he says at face value even if they care about him succeeding in his goals—but that's also not relevant to this point.)
But I do think this is why Essek progresses very quickly, and is largely committed to aiding them by 124—he already has been aiding them, and has expressed loyalty to them above anyone else.
This is not as much of a leap as it may appear to some, because even by 91 and 97, he had done significant introspection on his own time. This is only a continuation of how he has been characterized thus far. He's expressed doubt from a very early point, whereas Astrid does not begin to express doubt (regardless of whether she feels it, because this is about capacity for willing admittance) until after the dinner with Trent.
What ends up happening is that Essek's the one who actually calls Caleb on things. He gives him an ultimatum with the conversation about Trent when the Nein won't. He offers reason and perspective in the paper room when the rest of the Nein get impatient. He checks off all of the boxes of what Caleb is looking for (which is essentially a narrative mirror), and very early into the Nein's trip through Aeor, Caleb seems to have forgiven him, and his fears and misgivings erode from there.
Only this corroboration, because his opinion of Essek is specifically about his opinion of his own capacity for change, allows him to recognize that returning to the past would simply make him the same person he had been at 17, and finally put that plan, the person that he was, and his parents to rest. If he is not able to be anything other than that boy, then he has no reason to not remain as such, and return to the past; but if he believes himself capable of change, then the question of going back in time is one of leaving behind the person he is now in favor of the boy who made that choice. He is asked, if he believes himself capable of change, to acknowledge that he was that person once, but can now be more than that and move beyond it.
And the proof that he needs in order to affirm that when he is given the opportunity to do so is standing next to him.
Fundamentally, this is not related to Caleb's long-term relationship with Essek at all. This could have been the end of it—they could've parted ways and the story would've still been told and completed.
But I think it is important that a) Essek does get to have some happiness, and b) part of that is with Caleb (though this still doesn't have any bearing on platonic vs romantic, only that they have some kind of close mutual relationship in the long run). On a very basic level, because he is now in this position of being corroborating evidence for Caleb himself, Essek becomes a stand-in for how the narrative sees Caleb, and how Caleb views himself.
If the narrative condemns him and leaves him out to dry, it is an implicit reflection on Caleb—and directly conflicts with the narrative implication that Caleb is not solely worth condemnation. And however much it has nothing to do with romance or a relationship of that kind, Caleb's choice to care about him in the long run is an acknowledgement of being willing to care for and forgive himself.
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