#she has seven purple siphons of course

[thepetulantpen]

Healing/Ashes

(I swear I’m going to get these done! Here’s day 7 of @widomauk-week , I’ll have day 8 done shortly! Little more angsty today... warning for mild description of injuries and major character injury!)

“You should have Jester heal you.”

Caleb slowly lowers himself next to Molly, wincing at the protest from his bruised ribs and the deep cut on his arm.

“I’m fine.”

Molly frowns in concern but doesn’t bother to argue with Caleb when he knows he’s not going to budge on the matter.

He wishes, not for the first time, he had the power to heal, instead of just to hurt. That way, Molly could heal him whenever he pleased and Caleb would have no choice but to accept it.

Their wizard looks particularly grim after today’s battle, with blood crusting on his head, singed eyebrows, ash dusting the top of his hair, and bloody bandages peeking out of his sleeve. As Molly watches, blood slowly seeps into the bandage on Caleb’s upper arm, spreading and consuming more of the white material.

“Caleb-“

“It’s fine, Mollymauk. She doesn’t need to waste any more spells on me.”

Something is wrong. Molly can feel it, but he doesn’t know what he can do about it.

He supposes he could tell on Caleb, sic Jester on him so he’s forced to submit to a healing spell. Or maybe he has an extra healing potion he could put in some tea; Nott could certainly pull off the sleight of hand required to dose Caleb.

Molly stands, making up his mind to get someone to help heal his stubborn man, but Caleb grabs his hand, tugging him back towards the ground.

“Don’t go.”

Caleb’s hand is sweaty and he’s staring at the ground, hair falling around his face like a curtain. Molly manages a reassuring smile, a dazzling lie to keep Caleb calm.

“It’s ok, I’m just going to get some tea for you.”

“Not yet.” Caleb takes a ragged breath, tilting his head up towards the sky to watch the storm clouds converge over them.

A strong breeze passes through them and Caleb closes his eyes, letting the atmosphere of the storm soak into his skin.

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Sure,” Molly shifts nervously, wanting to help Caleb but not sure whether it’ll be best address his physical or mental concerns first, “I’m an expert on weird.”

“What do you want to happen to you after you die?”

Molly blinks once but doesn’t try to analyze the question, he’s going to deliver on Caleb’s expectation of an answer without judgement. Even if Molly secretly thinks it is a really weird question.

“Mm, I guess the Moonweaver would collect me. I’d want to be a part of whatever mischief she gets up to.”

“No, I mean,” Caleb breathes in again and this time Molly can tell it’s definitely wrong, definitely strained, “Would you want to be buried?”

Molly squints at Caleb, trying to examine his face and determine whether he’s more pale than usual. His eyes are still closed, Molly wishes he would open them.

“I suppose. What else is there?”

A grimace contorts Caleb’s face, taking over for a few long seconds before he’s able to pull back on his neutral mask.

“The pyre. From ashes, to ashes.”

Molly looks around anxiously, wondering if anybody is nearby to call for help if Caleb needs it. He’s talking so weird, maybe the wound is worse than they thought and the blood loss— what if he needs healing now?

No, Molly can’t just leave. Clearly Caleb has something on his mind, it’d be wrong to just ignore that. He’ll get Jester as soon as Caleb is ready. He clears his throat, determined to give Caleb an answer and figure out what his point is so they can move on to more pressing issues- like the blood that’s still traveling down the bandage.

“I don’t think I could do the whole cremation thing- too permanent. What if I come back again? I’d like to leave my body to be recycled by the next guy.”

Caleb laughs, or tries to, but the sound gets stuck in his throat, launching him into a coughing fit. Molly puts a hand on his back as Caleb starts hacking into his hands, watching in horror as blood begins to splatter against his hand wrappings. Caleb gasps, pulling in air for the first time in nearly a minute.

“I don’t think you’d die forever if you burned, Molly,” Caleb smiles, eyes still closed, why won’t he open them-

“I think you’d rise from the ashes, like a phoenix.”

Caleb opens his eyes, staring up at Mollymauk. They’re totally glazed over, a glassy white cloud covering the bright blue completely. Behind the fog, there’s a bright light, a feverish fire burning through Caleb’s mind.

He’s out before he lands in Molly’s arms, before he hears him screaming for Jester, Nott, Fjord, anyone—

...

He has a dream he’s had before, of a fireball and his friends and seven piles of ashes.

Usually, the dream ends after the explosion, after the screams of his subconscious follow him into the waking world.

This time, the dream lingers for a few more silent, dark moments. Caleb just wails, face buried in his hands, ashes in his hair, under his nails, clogged in his tear ducts.

A fire bursts to life amongst the ashes, embers warming without any input from Caleb. The room is suddenly very, very hot, the tears running down Caleb’s face start to boil and it makes him stop crying long enough to shout in surprise and pain.

The flames rise, surrounding him. They don’t spread but move, as if they had bodies to carry them. The pillar of fire in front of Caleb reaches out with a tongue of flames and brushes his face, harmless warmth spreading from cheek to chin.

The living, moving wall of fire parts to reveal a silhouette rising from the ashes, too obscured by the combination of glaring light and all consuming shadow for Caleb to make out.

The flames flicker once, then die, blown out by an unseen force. It’s done with ease and precision, like blowing out birthday candles rather than a room full of wildfire.

The only light that remains are the embers, gently floating through the air like fireflies and collecting on the ground in a path that winds from Caleb to the ashes.

He stands on shaking legs and follows it, not because he wants to but because his feet seem to have developed a mind of their own, siphoning dying coherency from his brain.

The ashes have been replaced by a bed of embers, some hot and yellow, others cooling red, and the rest solid black. The silhouette- now a distinct lavender tiefling- is there, sitting cross-legged and peaceful on the embers. His eyes are closed.

The purple tiefling- Molly?- doesn’t open his eyes but his head tilts up, sensing Caleb’s presence.

“Caleb!”

Eyes still closed, he smiles up at Caleb, the same wide grin that Molly gives him any opportunity he gets: in morning, before bed, after battles, after shopping, when they’re eating, when they’re drinking. It makes Caleb smile too and he reaches out to cup Molly’s cheek.

“-up! Caleb!”

Molly’s eyelids lift but there are no eyes there, just fire and embers spilling out and down his face. He’s crying fire but the smile stays, plastic and perfect, unaffected by Caleb’s horror.

The red fire reaches Caleb’s hand where he’s touching Molly’s face and catches on the bandages there, lighting up and spreading faster than should be possible. He tries to pat out the fire consuming his right arm, tries to scream or do something—

Caleb doesn’t have a chance because he’s already ash, swept away with the breeze.

...

Caleb wakes to something freezing cold on his forehead and an unidentifiable, but definitively unpleasant sensation in his right arm.

He tries to sit up, bat away whatever is touching his arm, but something holds him down, putting gentle weight on his weak shoulders.

“Shh, shh. I’m almost done.”

Like lifting heavy weights, Caleb manages to open his eyes. He’s in a dark room, lit only by dim candles. The window next to his bed is totally dark, revealing a starless night sky.

Molly is leaning over him, holding his arm and screwing up his face in concentration. He mutters something in a language Caleb doesn’t know and waves his hands in an unfamiliar arcane gesture.

The odd sensation starts again, like... bleeding but worse and not dulled by adrenaline. He watches as a green-tinted, translucent liquid leaks from the cut on his arm and floats up towards Molly’s fingers, before getting caught in the vial he holds. Caleb turns his head away, not wanting to further upset his stomach.

A few minutes later, Molly sighs and sets the vial on a side table, alerting Caleb with a soft clinking sound.

“Caleb?”

He turns his head back to Molly, peering up into his eyes. Molly looks so tired, more tired than Caleb has ever seen him. Fatigue weighs down the edges of his eyes and wears a crease in between his eyebrows.

“You know I love you, right?”

Caleb hesitates but nods slowly. He can’t bring himself to protest, uselessly, Molly’s steadfast affection, especially not when he can see tears welling in Molly’s eyes.

“And that’s never going to change, but,” Molly takes a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face, “if you ever do something this stupid again—I don’t know what I’ll do but it will not be pleasant, understand?”

Caleb fumbles for Molly’s hand with his good arm, squeezing weakly when he finds it. Molly squeezes back, with much more force than necessary, though Caleb supposes he deserves that after the day they’ve had.

There’s a million thoughts racing through Caleb’s head, guilt ridden and self-deprecating- I don’t deserve this, I’ve caused so much trouble, I’ve hurt Molly- but he silences all of them at the look on Molly’s face, a powerful mixture of worry and relief.

He doesn’t say anything he’s thinking, just what he’s feeling, “Thank you for saving me, Mr. Mollymauk.”

Molly smiles, letting the tears in his eyes fall. He leans forward and presses his forehead against Caleb’s; the warmth of his skin sinks into Caleb’s even through the cold compress he’s placed there.

“Of course, Mr. Caleb. What would we do without our all-powerful wizard?” Molly smiles wider, fangs poking out to become part of the shining performance piece of an expression.

Molly turns his head, pressing a kiss to Caleb’s forehead. He adds, much softer, “What would I do without the love of my life?”

Caleb’s going to say something to that, maybe apologize, maybe contradict, but Molly beats him to it, sitting back and rubbing his hand over Caleb’s arm.

“I’ll always be here to save you, Caleb, but I don’t want to, if I can avoid it.”

Caleb swallows, intimidated by Molly’s expectant stare. The vibrant red energy of Molly’s eyes fills his mind and Caleb finds himself giving into the impulse to say what he feels, to say something stupid, something impulsive.

Something Molly wants to hear, something Caleb wants to say.

“I promise you won’t have to. Not like this. Not again.”

Molly makes a happy little hum, satisfied with the flimsy, tired promise. He may be happy with just those words but Caleb is determined to make it more than that, make sure he never makes Molly so tired ever again.

But there’ll be time for making good on promises later, when there’s more light outside and less ache in his bones.

The candle is blown out and Molly tucks himself into bed next to Caleb, careful not to disturb any injuries.

They lay like that for a while, peaceful and content to just be in each other’s company. Caleb is reluctant to fall asleep again, scared of what he’ll find in his dreams and nagged by lingering curiosity about the missing hours of his day. He doesn’t want to wake Molly if he’s already asleep but he can’t help it, he has to know.

“How did you save me?”

Molly, apparently not asleep, laughs against Caleb’s chest.

“I used my brilliant arcane abilities to extract the poison from your blood,” his smile dies a little, hugging Caleb as tight as he dares, “Jester was out of restoration spells, so I had to make due.”

His grip is still weak from the fever and blood loss, but Caleb puts all the strength he has left into hugging Molly.

“That’s pretty clever, Molly.”

Molly snuggles a little closer, holding onto Caleb like he’s scared he’ll slip away.

“I learned from the best.”

#widomaukweek2019 #widomauk #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #critical role #ugh ive been so busy lately sorry guys #i really struggled with this one #probably cause i went more angsty than usual #my typical is just straight fluff lol #oh well #i swear ill get all these prompts done #soon #just one more day