After a disastrous first trek into Aeor, the Nein have realized they’re still a long way away from being able to face the Somnovem. Hunted by the Empire, watched by many eyes both profane and divine, and grasping at dozens of loose ends in their tales, these ten accidental folk heroes of Wildemount continue to weave their legacy wherever the threads may take them.
Yes, I said ten.
(“Creedemption II: Get Your Shit Together, Lucien)
chapter fifteen- where the wildcat screams
The Nein explore Asarius... and run into an old enemy.
wait wait wait guys have you ever thought about how the Mighty Nein are everything they shouldn’t be upon first glance
no no guys guys listen to me they’re all the antithesis of what they’re meant to be and that’s why they’re such amazing and heartfelt characters
like, Caleb is a wizard who’s afraid of his own fire magic. his own power causes him to falter in battle. his strongest spells are his most dangerous to himself. wizards are supposed to be prideful of their magic, but Caleb’s is the reason he hates himself
Beau is a monk who never wanted to be. her job is one that people normally associate with being calm and collected and Beau was a wild rebellious kid who got dragged into this line of work against her will. she never wanted to be this!! but now she is and she’s gotta deal with it!!
Fjord is a warlock who never wanted power from his pact, which is why you’d think a warlock would make their pact at all. but no. Fjord made his pact because he wanted to live, not because he wanted power. he was a scared orphan who hated his tusks, not a buff, muscled, angry half-orc like people assumed
Nott is NOT, that’s the whole crux of her narrative! she wasn’t pretty, like a halfling girl was supposed to be. she wasn’t a goblin, she was just transformed into one. and not only that, but despite being a three-foot-tall alcoholic kleptomaniac, she’s the mom of the group!
Jester is a Cleric whose god isn’t actually a god and who would much rather bash bad guys over the head with her lollipop than have to stop and heal her friends!! she’s a bubbly, optimistic ray-of-sunshine, but you know when she says she’s gonna change the world with friendship she means it as a threat
Mollymauk is an amnesiac, but he doesn’t want to remember who he was. if you ask him, that wasn’t him! he might be a flirtatious hedonistic carnie, but he’s also single-mindedly devoted to making the world a better and more loved place than it was when he found it. he’s a liar, but he means well. he’s an arrogant fool, yes, but he’s right! he did it! he left it better!
Caduceus seems like he’d be creepy and grim from growing up in a graveyard, but he’s actually the most chill out of the entire Nein by far. he’s calm, he’s sweet, and he’s comforting, more than anything else. you’d think he’d be amazed by seeing the outside world for the first time, but he spends the whole time knowing that one day he’ll return home, that he wasn’t supposed to be the one to leave
Yasha is a barbarian with skeletal wings and a dramatic, monochromatic look, but she’s a complete sweetheart. she’s Molly’s best friend, she was a carnival bouncer, she’s a lesbian disaster who collects pressed flowers in a book out of love for the wife she lost. those black wings were actually hiding soft white feathers
Essek was born straight into the den of politics, he was a spymaster, he literally started a war for his own gain, and yet. he’s sounds irredeemable on paper, but. he’s not!! sure, the Nein kind of have to drag his alignment kicking and screaming into neutral, but they manage it. Essek learns and grows and he overcomes his nature. he becomes good, against all odds
guys guys guys don’t you see it!! look at them!!they’re such compelling characters!! they’re everything they’re not supposed to be!! dude y’all how didn’t I realize this earlier!! they subvert their narratives in the most interesting ways ever and I justhshsbhshshsjnsmshsnhsfn!!
It has been such a pleasure over the last few episodes, seeing Ashton embrace the title of ‘hero.’ The moves that they are making are really cementing themself as a leader with a desire to positively affect the world. I love this shade on Ashton, and I can’t wait to see where it goes, though I have been struck with a somewhat worrying/exciting thought.
Not too long ago, I was reminded of Taliesin’s original plans for Percy, that plan being that his story would end tragically. Of course, we know that the story didn’t turn out that way, and Percy is now living in Whitestone with his wife and children. But it got me thinking that Caduceus’ character wasn’t designed with classic tragedy in mind, and also achieved a happy ending. Then I started to consider Mollymauk. Did Taliesin intend for the tiefling to have the tragic end he got? My gut instinct is to say no.
That's how this table came into existence:
We’ve got a missing spot, don’t we? We’re missing a character that successfully achieves its predetermined tragic ending.
Taliesin has a love for creating characters with questionable and self-destructive coping mechanisms. Percy and his affinity for making deals with demonic entities and creating weapons capable of untold destruction, Molly and his hedonism and indulgence of drugs, alcohol, and mischief, and even Caduceus’ repression and ignorance towards anything that makes him uncomfortable. Ashton Greymoore is no exception. Their anger, gambling and alcoholism are all one big coping mechanism for their childhood and chronic pain.
Part of me believes that this hero mentality has become another coping mechanism for Ashton to abuse. By stepping up, Ashton has been lifting the burden of leadership from other party members, the notable cases being Laudna, Orym, and FCG. He’s been encouraging them to explore their emotions, and ever since the Solstice, he has made himself the person they can lean on for support. Ashton wants to be a hero, even if it’s at the expense of their own well-being.
Ashton has made it clear on multiple occasions that their chronic pain is handled better under greater pressure, and soft, delicate touches cause them far more discomfort (even if the softer touches lead to less trouble in the long-term). But the problem with becoming a ‘rock’ for others is that Ashton must put himself under immense emotional pressure. While they may handle it far better in the short-term, that tactic is going to cause more damage the longer they indulge it. I feel like the lyrics of ‘Heroes' by Emmy Curie best describe my feelings on the matter:
"But you’re forgetting the thing about heroes, kid, they always have to fall"
(For the record, the song is simplistic but pretty, and I highly recommend listening to the whole thing. The lyrics apply to so many characters, and not just from Critical Role)
While I love this arc for Ashton, part of me is left wondering if Taliesin has been building up this character for the purpose of falling even further. Is Ashton going to achieve the tragic ending that Percy was deprived of? Will he be the one to occupy the final quadrant of that table?
Me, leaning on a wall drinking a CBD kombucha in sunglasses on a cloudy day, having lived through Critical Role episodes C1 E68, C1 E85, C1 E102, C2 E26, C2 E140, C3 E3, C3 E33, and C3 E91 live:
"Hey, you know what the funniest fucking outcome to this horrible death would be? Or the most heart rending tragedy possible that makes Macbeth feel like a happy ending? Here let me post through the very real and intense grief I'm feeling with memes."
Okay but what if animated nein shows us more of Molly being haunted by Lucien early on--dreams of the Eyes, or moments when "something creeps through" and he sees a fragment of a memory that's not his own--
Thinking about...when Molly finally reveals the truth about Lucien, when he's so relieved that his family didn't abandon him, "This was not how I expected this to go...Thank you." The way his heart feels lighter when Caleb still calls him Mollymauk Tealeaf. The warmth and comfort of giving Yasha a big hug.
What if, after everything's out in the open, and Molly's so grateful he doesn't have to face it all alone, what if there's just--this little voice, whispering in the back of his mind. A reflection in the mirror that isn't him. A bad dream, but he just won't wake. And somewhere across the Astral Sea, Lucien whispers that he's nothing but an Empty shell, a puppet without a heart or soul. How could the Nein ever love him, when he's not even real--
Cree Deeproots will do absolutely anything to get her friend back, even if it means traveling with a bunch of fools.
Mollymauk Tealeaf has gotten a second chance at life he didn’t expect and all the hassles that come with it.
And the Mighty Nein are determined to protect their friend and maybe change the heart and mind of a certain fickle tabaxi.
(AKA The "Creedemption" Fic.)
chapter forty-six: on the day this story's over
The Nein head to Icehaven, where trouble awaits and the midpoint of their story reaches its end.
I don't have anything to say for myself. There will be an epilogue soon. ENJOY.
First I need to note that any objection along the line of ‘Essek is too intelligent to fall for grifts’ is unnecessary, because whatever you think of Essek’s specific characterisation, assuming you are to intelligent to fall for a grift is one of the major ways people fall for them, in a ‘renowned high pressure social group researcher proclaiming on twitter that Sissy Porn is real and dangerous’ kinda way (look it up it’s some hysterical terf bs).
Gonna use that joke as a sidenote that if I am conflating grifts and high pressure social groups in this, it’s ‘cause as far as I care the difference is how self-aware the people running the show are. Watch any MLM-Doku (and I think we can all agree MLMs are grifts) and you’ll inevitably get to the part about weird aspiration culture bs and group pressure. It’s all one soup.
With that out of the way, let’s establish a baseline: What’s Molly’s reason for grifting Essek? Probably money and also the fun of it/being bored. Considering Kingsley abandoned his perfectly fine shipping company job to run off to be pirate king, I don’t think ‘Molly keeps grifting long after the M9 have become financially stable for shits and giggles and because Jester enjoys it’ is too outlandish a projection. Additionally, I don’t think Molly is great with impulse control nor this whole thing where current actions cause future consequences.
Now; why would Essek fall for a grift. Grifting relies on the dupe wanting something more than having good sense about it. Most people want money, so most girfts are structured around greed, but we know money is no object to Essek (though this does make him a juicy target – what he would barely miss might make a good haul for any grifter). We do know he is primarily motivated by knowledge instead, as well as a desire to be recognized as intelligent and exceptional. Additionally, we know he needs (in the character development sense) The Power of Friendship. Lastly, I think it’s fair to say he subconsciously longs for excitement (happy, fulfilled bureaucrats don’t become heretic spies; nor do they befriend a gang of mercenaries; implicitly, Essek is happier living the life of a wayward refugee-adventurer wizard than that of an Evil Gay Vizier Court Wizard or whatever papers a Shadowhand stamps nine-to-five.).
Being a paranoid bastard makes him a harder target, though the fact that we know he has fallen for someone’s bs before (I’m counting the spectacularly bad decision that is him allying with the Assembly as falling for a grift here. That’s a stupid decision to make!) makes him an easier target. Being so socially isolated makes him an easier victim, too, though his general rejection of people and clear discomfort with social interactions makes him an unlikely target for something like a romance scam. Essek’s relationship to tolerating bullshit is a weird one; on the one hand, he does put up with Jester’s (and the rest of the Nein’s) shenanigans, on the other he clearly knows how to and dares to tell someone to fuck off, and there’s that time he just ditches everyone via teleport (hilarious). So boundaries-wise, he could go either way. Lastly, I’d argue he’s at least somewhat impulsive or at least not risk averse. Always remember we are looking at an NPC next to Sword’n’Sorcery Adventurers – Essek might look cautious next to ruin-trawling wizards, but compare him to Gundula, 55, who works in Insurance and just clicked on a phishing link to claim her Totally Real Oilve Garden Gift Card, and you’ll see what I mean – most people are too risk-averse and unimpulsive to, again, commit treason via international conspiracy and then run off without a moment’s notice to dig around a cursed-ass ruin to save the world from a Cronenbergian nightmare.
Conclusion: He’s rich, he’s bored, he loves pretending to be a spy or grand discoverer, he wants to buy your dodgy foreign papers and incredible discoveries about the Luxon so, so badly and he has absolutely no one left in his life who’ll tell him it’s a bad idea.
So, for example, Molly could Voynich him. All he needs is a battered notebook and some writing supplies, whatever knowledge of what wizards’ and alchemists’ and spies’ scribbles look like he can easily pick up from traveling with the Nein and an opportunity to ask Essek to have a look at this encoded notebook he’s been lugging around all over the continent with him, why, he was at this party in Zadash and everyone else was some boring old pompous wizard (such a bore!) so he pickpocketed one of them, just for the fun of it, but, well, turns out neither Caleb nor Beau can make head nor tails of the weird sign code it’s written in (how tragic, if only someone happened to be so much cleverer than both of them!) and if Essek wants to have a look Molly would be more than happy to lighten his pack. For a small pittance, of course.
What’s small change to Essek is probably pretty nice to have for Molly, even by that level and especially if we’re mostly doing this for the fun of it. Essek gets to fall face first into his desire to show up Caleb, Beau and potentially an unknown Assembly member with his clearly superior decoding, espionage and wizardly skills and gain Secret Knowledge, maybe even Assembly Secrets on top of that.
Arguably, this one does rely very heavily on the fact that it’s hard to prove a negative, or in this case, hard to prove a barely-literate conman’s scribbles are just that. Do keep in mind Essek doesn’t know Molly is a habitual conman, but even so, it’s not a fantastic con (Essek isn’t dumb and knows his arcana after all and Molly doesn’t, or at least not enough to make a proper Voynich).
You could make it a better Voynich by getting Caleb in on it, but instead let’s pep it and turn it into a proper Real Stradivari by changing the hints that this manuscript might be legit to being alchemy-related and adding in a shill. Let’s go with Jester, because she’s down to clown, can lie and has a way with Essek’s boundaries.
So this time around, we aren’t asking Essek outright to buy our bogus notes – instead Molly gives him the whole spiel, hands him the notebook, fucks off with as little time to actually look at it as possible before Jester enters the scene to ask what THAT is and go oh it’s about ALCHEMY well, that DOES look like the signs she saw around Yezza’s house, pretty suuuure, oh, do you think it might be Yezza’s? Do you think Yezza might want it? Do you think she should ask Molly to sell it to her so she can give it to Yezza as a present to be nice because she’s such a nice friend who does nice things?
Honestly, the money part is optional if this is wholly about making Essek look up to see if the ceiling does indeed say gullible (and if Jester is involved, it might well do so! Always better to check, with her!), but a proper Violin Drop concludes with the Grifter returning to take their worthless thing back only to be asked to sell by the victim, who thinks the grifter doesn’t know what worth he has. If it was real, offering to buy the notebook would mean Essek outsmarted a minimum of three people (Beau and Caleb can’t crack the code, Molly is too dumb and illiterate to know valuable research notes from the morning paper) and gets his hands on potentially unknown-to-him luxon-related secrets! Alas, it’s not real, as he will realize soon.
So these are two (related) ways to scam Essek. But there’s a third one I want to mention one that is a lot of cinematic fun and I didn’t know had a name until Wikipedia told me no one does it irl (boo! That’s no fun!). It takes a lot of prep, math, and a lot of people and combines Essek’s obsession with the Luxon’s secrets and Molly’s penchant for passing himself off as psychic.
Molly would need something people in Rosohna bet on, like some kind of sport, preferably one with only two results and places people do said betting on said sport in groups. I’m assuming this exists on account of gambling and sports being culturally pretty universal concepts that love to go together.
Anyway. Imagine you’re Essek Thelyss, and one day a bunch of weirdos show up in court with a piece of the god you’re atheistically-heretically obsessed with. A few weeks later, you, having your ears to the ground about new developments regarding said not-god-pieces, hear one of the weirdos has made a name for himself as a outright oracle, correctly predicting the outcome of Fantasy-Dodgeball (Rosohnas’ favourite sport) perfectly six weeks running. He swears it’s because proximity to the Luxon amplified his inborn and long-trained psychic powers to predict the future.
Now, this is obviously bullshit. Except if Essek, being regrettably acquainted with the weirdos, were to ask, Molly would certainly confirm that sure, he has mystic powers and certainly they were amplified by the Luxon and predicting sport results is a hobby of his wherever they go, does Essek want to see? and lead Essek to a bar where every regular can swear on whatever he likes that Molly has correctly predicted the results of Fantasy-Dodgeball since the first week of being in Rosohna, in fact since before he himself knew the rules or track-record of any of the teams. Not only that, but there’s a second bar full of people Molly can introduce him too. And if he wants, he can certainly come back for a drink in one of them again next week when Molly has done it once more. Just call on Molly, he’ll tell you the time and date to meet some true believers, not all of whom can possibly be his shills.
(And, incidentally, barely worth mentioning, really, since Molly’s psychic blessings from the Luxon are so accurate, he has Exciting Business Opportunities for anyone willing to place more than their weekly betting budget in his trust, and he’d love for Essek to take a look at his powers. For a small compensation of his time, of course.)
Of course Molly can’t predict the results of Fantasy-Dodgeball. Instead, the first week of downtime in Rosohna, he found out what people like to bet on in Rosohna and where, picked one or two places in each district, go there and make predictions with a fifty-fifty split, then eliminate each watering hole where he was wrong each week, slowly cutting his audience back to only people who are getting to know him as That Outlander Who Always Knows The Results of Fantasy-Dodgeball, all the while escalating the story from him being just some dude betting and drinking with the guys to the whole Chosen By The Luxon thing. Considering this is a double-scam involving a faith aspect, he might very well still cash in in places he’s been wrong once only since victims of faith-based scams are very likely to overlook inconsistencies in their scammer’s stories or promised results. By the time Essek gets involved Molly’d be down to one or two places of true believers coming to him for ‘always accurate’ tips and a bunch of other people all over Rosohna he might get some money off based on the faith-aspect. And now perhaps one intrigued high-ranking government official who’s more than willing to overlook the hereticism inherent to the whole thing and is instead very likely to fall in the academic glue-trap of trying to disprove something clearly bogus that you do kind of want to believe in because like.
Wouldn’t it be cool? If the Luxon had more awesome powers? And one of them happened to fall in Essek’s hands, with no oversight and no need to cooperate with someone like Trent or Ludinus? Would he not want it to be real?
Anyway. The real answer to this question is: Enlist Beau to send bogus stuffed bills to Essek’s secretary. Bureaucrat on bureaucrat violence, let’s go.
Okay, so 'X actually lives' AUs are not my thing (I'd rather see equal consequences to counterbalance the 'happy ending'), and this is especially true for Molly because Kingsley and Cad are both great, BUT-
During my M9 rewatch, when Fjord, Jester and Yasha are taken, Lorenzo is pleased that they hauled, and I quote, 'Two divine bloods and one half-beast'. Fjord is clearly the half-beast, and Yasha's obviously an aasimar, but that Jester is lumped with her as a divine blood caught my interest.
So tieflings are valuable, then.
I know literally the next line states that their cages are at capacity, but... Lorenzo could have hauled Molly's unconscious body into a cage if 'divine bloods' are that good a find. If a teenage aasimar could fetch 10k gold apiece in the Fire Plane (C1e75), I do wonder if it'd be more worth his while to haul away this prize. (Ofc aasimar prices could be inflated in that marketplace! But even 2k would be nothing to sniff at!)
As much as it pains my lil heart, because she IS my favorite... Beau is right there. A dirt-common human, and probably just as good an example to make Keg get the message.
Has anyone done this? It feels like such an easy shift for canon divergence that then opens up a huge door full of possibilities.
(Just consider the domino effect this would have. M9's disposition towards people/problems likely remain prickly, reduce the likelihood of them teaming up/trusting a lot of people down the linr. Maybe the extra bodies means someone is offloaded and sold earlier, not to be found in the Iron Shepherds' dungeons. What impact would Cad not being there to heal/rez at key moments have? How would Fjord's arc be deviated without his guidance? And Beau's, if she lives, without the impact Molly's death had on her? Aeor and Lucien would, of course, be completely different! Just! Think about it!)
I saw so many lovely cosplayers at the m9 liveshow!! Wish I would've had time to chat with yall - if you're in this photo, please reach out! I'd love to chat :D (also of course I'll take it down if someone doesn't want it up)
Also I didn't have time to get a photo with you but platforms Essek you'll always be legendary so if you or your Jester friend sees this please say hi cause you both also looked amazing
(Also German guys who I met in the queue, if you see this hi I'm the Swedish person! You were great!)
Author: AvinRyd
Fandom: Critical Role
Rating: T
Pairing: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Word Count: ~1,650
Series: Shards and Spells
"...first time I've been glad Molly wasn't there."
- @caitmayart
--
Saw Cait's fanart (x) and it broke me into little pieces. I put those back together into this.
Read on AO3
On any other night, the soft riffle of worn parchment shuffling would be comforting, meditative work in Mollymauk’s hands. On any other night, there would be a blood-deep satisfaction in the near-inaudible sound of cards placed on threadbare fabric. On any other night, the glow of moonlight would light his spread and sing in his veins and there would be the humming feeling of not only Sehanine’s gentle presence, but a hint of mischievous spark from Jester’s Traveler and, underneath his incense and the floral warmth of the Wildmother, the sharp scent of ozone. Yasha’s Stormlord.
On any other night. But not tonight. Because Yasha is...Yasha is—
Footsteps on the stairs of the Ready Room—ascending, growing louder, stopping on the landing.
“If we’re not discussing how to get her back, I’m not coming downstairs.” Molly says flatly, not looking up from his cards.
“I am not here to fetch you back, Mollymauk.”
Caleb. Soft-spoken, level-headed, absolutely fucking calm Caleb. How can he sound so gods-damned calm? How can all of them be so cold to just walk away and let that door close and—
His mental tirade is interrupted by movement in his periphery. Just off the edge of his tarot cloth, one of Caduces’s wooden bowls slides into view. It’s full of a creamy stew of some sort, dinged iron spoon leaning against the edge, being held by a bandaged hand. It’s followed shortly by a chipped ceramic mug of steaming liquid, borne by a matching other hand. Molly looks up to see Caleb crouched across from him, fancy new coat pooled on the gritty wood floor and not meeting his eyes.
“You need to eat. You’re no good to her wasted away to nothing.”
Molly scoffs. “I’m no good to her stuck here either! Miles and a mountain and a half away, sitting in a fucking military storehouse when I should still be in there, still—”
“Still what, Mollymauk? You wouldn’t still be anything. You would be stabbed through by another gods-verdammt oversized blade and by the time your neat little trick got around to bringing you back, there would be more time wasted than we are using right now.”
Caleb isn’t so soft-spoken, isn’t so calm now. His voice is low, but it’s tense and rough and he’s meeting Molly’s gaze now—deep purple bruising under his eyes and brows furrowed in consternation as he pins Molly with a hard look and it stops his mind short. This Caleb is familiar, for all Molly never actually got to meet him. This is the Caleb that rode up the Glory Run Road, dragging broken friends and compatriots away from a fresh grave to rescue the ones yet living.
Molly swallows the spitting retort that’s fast dying on his devil’s tongue and carefully returns the cards to his deck, inverse of how they’d been placed and rolls up the cloth, sets them both aside and reaches for the bowl.
He eats in silence. Caleb shifts, sits against the bunk that hides Molly’s corner from the rest of the large room and pulls out a loop of silver thread to fiddle with. Moonlight catches in the threads and Molly recognizes the geometric patterns.
“No Molly, if you do it that way—see? You’ve got it tangled now.”
Molly made a face at the snarls of string binding up his wrists and fingers. Yasha only laughed softly and reached to pick apart the knots.
“Where did you even learn this? Practice for building snares in the Xorhassian wastes?”
“Jester taught me while we were at sea. It was a long journey and you run out of things to do on a ship, eventually.”
There was a waft of sea-salt tang rising from the string, nearly masked by the scent of dry parchment and flowers that clung to everything stored in Yasha’s belt-pouch. He wiggled his fingers gleefully once Yasha freed them, then looped the string around once more.
“Alright. Show me again.”
Molly sets the empty bowl aside—when had he finished it? Must have been hungrier than he thought—and scoots over across from Caleb. The wizard has reached a point in the pattern where he can’t move further. Wordless, Molly reaches in and deftly moves the strings, pulls them off Caleb’s hands and into the next pattern, then holds it out.
Their eyes meet in a quick glance, all that Caleb allows, then burn-scarred fingers reach across to pluck at the web spanned between Molly’s hands; gingerly pinching strings together, then looping them around and pulling back. Another familiar pattern. Molly follows along, and so they go, the silence stretching on and growing more comfortable as it does. Comfortable, but it’s not enough to soothe the agitation still simmering in Molly’s blood.
The emotions still boil up in him, horror and fear and anguish that steam out as anger at the situation, anger at his friends, their hesitance, their—
Caleb nudges Molly’s elbow with his own. Their hands are suddenly knotted together—Molly’s hands having spasmed and yanked the careful magic out of true, tangling the thread. Shit. Fuck. Gods damn it all, can't even get a simple children’s game right, let alone anything more useful. He doesn’t move as Caleb slips his own fingers free and starts untangling the thread. Still quiet, movements slow and purposeful and fucking hells below.
“How are you all so calm about this?” He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t.
There is a long moment of silence, Caleb slipping the last knots from the thread and winding it carefully before replying, “Everyone is in shock, Mollymauk. Do not mistake it for apathy.”
“Bullshit. If any of you gave a—” Caleb doesn’t let him finish, talks over him.
“Beauregard hasn’t said a single word since your shouting match three hours and twenty-seven minutes ago. Jester started crying halfway through that argument and hasn’t stopped. Caduceus burned the stew and oversteeped three separate pots of tea. Nott has done nothing but drink since we got back and Fjord has let his accent slip at least four times in that span.”
“And you?” Molly is still stuck on their firebrand wizard and his icy calm all through the ride back to Bazzoxan—stuck and enraged, if he’s honest with himself.
Caleb laughs, dry as dust. “Well.”
He holds out his right hand for inspection and Molly takes in what he hadn’t noticed earlier. The bandages on the outer blade of his hand are scorched brown, black at the edges, and there are red smears in the palm mirrored by the rusty brown caked under burned short nails. Unthinking, he reaches out to cradle it in his own two as Caleb continues,
“Nott told me to find something to do with myself before the proprietor noticed I was burning a hole in their table. So I brought you food.”
The hand in Molly’s grasp is shaking, as if only just being held back from clenching into a fist once more. Molly has to take a moment, has to sit with what Caleb’s just told him. He wants to stay angry, wants it more than anything, because if he’s angry then nothing else can get to him—if he’s angry, the rest of the awful, awful things...
Ah, too late.
Their game of Cat’s Cradle had brought him and Caleb knee-to-knee, so it’s not far to go when Molly slumps forward to knock his head into Caleb’s shoulder. Months and months ago, back when they’d all first met, the Caleb Molly had known would have jerked back on instinct. The Caleb Molly had known wouldn’t have let his hand be held so tenderly either, or played a silly string game with him in grief-stricken silence. This Caleb has done all those things, and more—twisting his hand just enough to clasp around Molly’s forearm in a firm hold.
“I hate this.” Molly says to their laps, forehead pressed into the shoulder seam of Caleb’s fancy new coat. “Is this what it felt like? When I… When I was gone?”
“Nein,” Caleb replies, harsh and certain. Molly jerks upright at the tone.
“How?”
Caleb’s frown deepens. “You were dead, Mollymauk. You were dead and you were gone and we mourned you.” His hand tightens on Molly’s arm. “Yasha is not. She is alive, and we may not be strong enough yet, but we will get her back. I don’t— I’m not sure how we can, but we will, Molly. I swear it.”
Caleb’s free hand has lifted to rub at his face and Molly sees a smear of crimson when it comes away—a cut on his jaw that should have been healed many cleric spells ago. There’s dried blood crusted under the nails of that hand as well. Had he picked open that shaving nick over the course of the night?
There’s a hard lump in Molly’s throat that he tries to swallow past, but can’t. It blocks all his words except the few syllables he needs to send up to the Moonweaver as he reaches out to touch Caleb’s jaw. The silver crescent charm on his horn chimes softly as it spins and hits keratin, and a sparkle of divine blue light dances in the blue of Caleb’s eyes as Molly draws on the absolute last of his strength to seal up the tiny cut. He doesn’t move his hand after—keeps it there to feel the subtle movement of Caleb adjusting his jaw, relaxing clenched teeth.
It’s not far to go when their foreheads press together, made shorter by Caleb leaning in to meet him halfway. Molly lets his hand drop to fall atop Caleb’s wrapped ones in their laps, closes his eyes and tries to just breathe—he feels like he hasn’t properly since that door closed.
It hurts. It’s going to hurt for a good long while yet, he reckons. But it’ll hurt a damn sight less once they’ve got Yasha back.