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maydaymadier · 3 years

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Time

[Disclaimer: I’m currently slightly more than halfway through the c2 finale and I’m going to try and avoid spoilers since well, there’s still like 3hrs of content to get spoiled on. Will likely crosspost to my ao3]

“Time, it takes time, not days or weeks or years. Time.”

Caleb Widogast was right, though to be precise it takes 100 consecutive days of inscribing a teleportation circle in the same place to make it permanent. Nicodranas was the first teleportation circle Essek Thelyss finished. 100 days of pounding sun and coastal heat felt fitting to start his time. He had his trepidations about better acquainting himself with Yussa, less so with Ms. Lavorre. The Nein asked why he needed to make a teleportation circle in Nicodranas, they already had access to Tidepeak Tower’s. ‘Yes, however, we will not have to give anyone advance notice to use our own.’

Jester made something of a habit of bringing him a new parasol or sunhat each time she visited, even brought him tinted glasses she found once. If he knew she was coming he’d make sure to wear one of them.

Each time he ran out of chalk he’d wrap himself in illusion and teleport himself to Zadash. Meanwhile, the stores in his towers grew dust-laden, his absence from the Dynasty more suspicious, and he bought his chalk from Enchanter Sol. The Mighty Nein were a family, regardless of any distance, and he had the means to make distance mean nothing. So Essek Thelyss carried on. And on the hundredth day, he stepped into a circle in Nicodranas and stepped out in the Blooming Grove.

He was invited in for tea, as expected, and accepted as was polite. The next day he found the spot behind the temple where the grass had been flattened by the circle delivering him and started his next hundred days. He ‘compensated’ for his intrusion with his floating meditative guard each night. Caduceus seemed to pick up on what he was doing faster than Jester had, by a thin margin. The remaining Clay children would poke their noses in once and a while, curious about their drow visitor they’d only met briefly before but they remembered him helping garden after Ikithon set the temple ablaze. They would offer him a plate at meals, he insisted on using his own rations in a strange dance of hospitality and being a polite guest.

At one point, after finishing the day’s circle he considered venturing through the Savalirwood to Glory Run Road, find Mollymauk’s grave. But it felt disrespectful to Kingsley somehow in a way he couldn’t articulate. If he were to be more dramatic it felt like an invasion of privacy to the rest of the Nein as a whole, intruding on a moment on a place where they were unknowing adversaries. So he kept inscribing circles in the grass and sometimes he found fresh chalk in his component pouch. On occasion, Caduceus found saplings and cuttings of Xorhasian plants on his windowsill.

On the hundredth day he stepped into the circle in the Blooming Grove and came out under Caduceus’s tree in the Xorhaus. He was far more careful with this one. The Xorhaus was sparsely used, bordering on abandoned at this point, more than ready for the Nein to inhabit it once again. Beauregard, oft accompanied by Yasha, used it the most for when they visited Rosohna on Cobalt Soul business. The Bright Queen had been more than amenable to working with the Soul once she knew they were dismantling the organization that had stolen the beacons.

Though it took three days before Beau realized he was working on making a circle on the roof, pruning away his extra time by trying to tame the garden, clad in his rose-patterned gardening gloves, what with his lackluster previous experience. She offered to go bring him chalk from his towers, anything else he might need that he’d left behind when he was posted in Eiselcross. He accepted the offer, to eschew suspicion, asking for some simple components that filled any wizard’s pouch. Sooner than later, soon enough Beau couldn’t knock the truth out of him (not that she needed to do that or would, he was growing increasingly susceptible to disappointed stares from his friends) he stepped into the circle in Rosohna and stepped out in Rexxentrum.

His skin crawled and felt like it would slough off with each passing day. He wasn’t so bold at this point to attempt and make a circle on Soltryce’s grounds but he did take pleasure in chipping away the next hundred days in the courtyard of Trent Ikithon’s now abandoned tower. It was a joy, absolutely cathartic tearing apart what little remained hidden away of the bastard’s stores. The most valuable and precious artifacts and components were hidden in ways only an archmage would even know about or know how to unlock. Malicious clumsiness might have gotten him to break an important, now inert, magical tool or two as he rummaged through the tower for chalk.

Though one day, he noticed an owl perched in a tree, watch him for an hour, disappear for a few minutes, reappear, so on and so forth for the whole day. He had a good idea who the owl was but she never watched him again after that. If she wanted to know what he was doing here, fine. It wasn’t like either could rat out the other without drawing unwanted attention to them both. So on the hundredth day, what little remained of Trent Ikithon’s personal study even more thoroughly destroyed, he stepped into the circle in Rosohna and stepped out.

Essek chipped away at the for now final circle under the watchful light of Pelor. Passively, the part of him that absorbed every ounce of knowledge, regardless if he cared or not, wondered what the connection may be between whatever the Luxon is and the Dawnfather. Just a fun little thought experiment to occupy him while he worked through the next hundred days.

By the end of Brussendar, with Highsummer fast approaching, he’d decided that he ought to have brought at least one of Jester’s hats. Though more importantly he’d decided that the thought was silly and any connection between the two deities must be entirely aesthetic. Nothing he didn’t already know but what else can a wizard do but overthink?

It wasn’t the same level of festivities he’d heard about with Harvest’s Close but Highsummer seemed to be the close second in Blumenthal. He sat, disguised in the shade of an oak probably as old as he was and simply watched from afar. Somewhere in the crowd, he saw a flash of copper. Tried not to think to much of it. Red hair seemed slightly more common in this corner of the empire. He caught the sweeping arc of a long, striped scarf being tossed over a shoulder. A leather coat dusting at the ground (though he had looked so good in purple).

Caleb Widogast stepped out of the crowd and sat under the oak with him, “I suppose a criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.” “I suppose I have,” Essek stared at his feet. Caleb offered him some sort of sweet roll wrapped in paper, “I was not talking about you.” He ignored the comment, “How long has it been? Since we last spoke.” “Four hundred and eighty-six days. About a year and a half to be informal,” he just set down the roll next to his hand when he didn’t move to take it. “I keep thinking one day it will have been enough time.” “Looking for the specific number will drive you mad. Are you just going to keep making circles across Wildemount until you feel that you’ve atoned?” Essek took the roll but only held it, “I know that I cannot make up for everything. What are you doing here, anyways?” “I have been trying to convince myself to visit. Maybe try to pay my respects if I can stomach it. The others had already told me what you were doing, but Astrid told me where you were going. Figured now was good a time as any,” his expression darkened, the reality beyond the afterglow of a hard-won victory whispering into both their ears. “I-,” Essek started. “Did you know I was from here before you picked it or did you just want to taunt Rexxentrum by hiding in their breadbasket for a while?” Caleb stared him down. “I knew.” “Alright then.” “I hope I have not intruded in some way by coming here.” “I suppose we were both curious about the echo. It’s right up your alley, prodigious dunamancer and whatnot,” Caleb glanced back up at the revelers before turning his attention back to him “I would not discount your own skill, you’ve picked up dunamancy quite quickly and with a level of skill I have rarely seen.” Maybe they can just talk about magic. “Danke.” There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation.

“When do you think-?” Essek tried asking. “I don’t. I will not pretend to know when enough time will have passed for the past not to hurt us anymore, Essek. And counting it in teleportation circles will not make it go any faster,” he said, though with the crushing sadness to his eyes of a man who wished he were wrong. “I am trying to make it easier for us to see each other,” he said with easy authority. “It is much easier to see each other when we don’t run off to the four corners,” Caleb added on with a tired chuckle. “What are you implying?” Something caught between excitement and unease hit him. “I can stay. Help you finish the circle here, we can leave, make another. As many circles as we want. We can have the continent at our fingertips. Maybe even go back to what remains of Aeor in Eiselcross. Devexian couldn’t have been the only mechanical inhabitant. For all we know there is a city of automatons underneath the ice now,” Caleb got more excited and dreamy as he went on, the unbridled excitement of a mage faced with knowledge. “That sounds...nice...,” Essek trailed off, trying to sound as neutral as he could manage. “Do you want that, Essek?”

It felt like the word was tearing its way out of him, “Yes.”

#my post #critical role #mighty nein #cr fic #cr fanfic #essek thelyss #shadowgast #just a sprinkling of shadowgast there at the end #post-canon #Essek is Coping

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sockablock · 4 years

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Hi! All the political and ocean concerns in the M9 have me thinking about Astrid and Eodwulf and Sabien. Hmm I know this is a reaching prompt, but something about Caleb and Fjord and people that you used to know? Thanks for all your amazing work, and stay safe during these crazy times! 💜

The beach is mostly trashed by the end, so they spend an extra few days on Rumblecusp to help the villagers clean up.

Which isn’t so bad. The food is good, if...adversarial, and the people now formerly of the cult of Vokodo take to wine-making like, well, former cultists.

Beauregard apparently has opinions about their process, but it’s not like they can get Marrow Oak on a tropical island; and anyway, it hasn’t stopped her from drinking any.

It hasn’t stopped Fjord from pouring a cup either, which he sips as Caleb emerges from the gloom. Behind him, sounds of clean-up and commotion, the curling grey smoke of a bonfire reaching toward pinprick stars above.

“Did they kick you out too?” Fjord dips his head. “I always feel like Marius when they start the heavy lifting.”

“Jester said I was getting in her way,” Caleb sighs, and plops down onto the bench beside him. He’s close enough that Fjord can see the glow in his eyes. “I decided that was a good enough excuse to take a break.”

“Man, at least Yasha was polite about it,” Fjord commiserates. “All she had to do was throw the cart over her head, and I got the message pretty fast.”

Caleb answers with a muted laugh, and a lock of hair slips out from behind his ear. Fjord smiles too, and offers his cup.

“So it’s over now, huh?” he says as Caleb takes a sip. “Time to head back soon.”

“I suppose so,” Caleb nods. “It feels like only days since we arrived on the island.”

“It was a few days ago, wasn’t it? Er...you would know, I mean.”

“Yes. If you want to be technical, we arrived ten days ago.”

“And it’s only been, like, ten hours since the Traveler ‘ascended.’” Fjord makes the appropriate air quotes. “Did you see him at the celebration dinner afterward? I’m pretty sure he ate eighteen cupcakes. Maybe nineteen.”

“I can see where Jester learned it from. Although,” Caleb adds dryly, “they were not bad cupcakes. I am still impressed that Caduceus managed to make icing on a deserted island.”

“Vegan, too.”

“Yes. Will wonders never cease.”

Caleb passes the cup back and Fjord gently swirls the liquid inside, a violent mishmash of pinkish-purple that doesn’t seem to settle either way.

It’s cool in his hands. He looks up and takes a slow breath.

“Do you...that is...it seems a bit pointless to ask, since, well, it’s not like he’s your god—”

“Hm?”

Fjord considers the torchlight on the water. “Do you think we did the right thing?

Caleb is quiet for a while.

“I...do,” he says, eventually. “We...helped the Traveler accomplish what he wanted, and we gave the people a new—we gave them something. Perhaps their collective belief will be enough to scrape out a new deity entirely, if the Moonweaver decides to pass.”

“Can gods...do that?”

Caleb shrugs. “They are gods. What would we know?”

The waves whistle as they wash against the shore. Then Fjord says:

“But...what about Jester? I mean, I know he promised he’d still be around, and I’m pretty sure Beau would kill him if he wasn’t, but it still feels like an end, doesn’t it? Like the old days are over. There’s no going back.”

Caleb makes a faint humming sound. “The old days had been over for a while.”

“Right,” says Fjord, “but—”

“I understand.”

In the distance, someone tosses another log onto the bonfire. It’s probably Yasha. Cheers go up.

“A lot of things have been changing. Have changed already, for all of us, I think.”

Fjord looks over. “How do you mean?”

He is surprised when he finds Caleb staring back at him. The firelight glows on his skin.

“You are a prime example, no? Think of what has changed for you.”

“Er...”

“The boat,” Caleb clarifies. “The explosion. The sword, then losing the sword, then...well.” And he gestures to Fjord, going up and going down, landing firmly on his symbol to the Wildmother.

“Oh.” Fjord suddenly feels a bit embarrassed. “Well. Yes. But...I think I was overdue for some changes.”

“You don’t miss them, then?” Caleb asks. “The old days?”

Fjord shuffles a little on the bench. His feet leave a groove in the sand.

“Well,” he admits, “it’s not...not like I don’t. It’s just...they were long ago, now. I’m not sure I’m that person, anymore. I...definitely don’t think I want to be.”

Caleb’s glance shifts to the ground. “Yes,” he says. “That, I understand.”

Fjord passes him the cup again. He takes it.

In quiet sort of voice, he says, “You aren’t. For the record. I mean...I don’t think you’re like how you were...like before.”

Caleb looks at the wine. “You didn’t know me.”

“You’ve...filled in some of the details for us, and I have an active imagination. Besides, I’ve been around you for nearly a year now.”

Caleb drinks. It’s his longest swig yet. When he finishes, he exhales and wipes at his mouth.

“You have, haven’t you?”

He hands the drink back.

“Everyone has,” Fjord says.

It’s Caleb’s turn to watch the tide. The breeze moves his collar. Without his coat on, the wind ruffles his shirt.

“I believe...that is what changed me, in the end. If not for y—for everyone, I would not be who I am today.”

“Yeah. We’re all made by who we stick with, I think. In the past and the present. It’s all a matter of luck.”

“I don’t know if ‘luck’ is the word I would use.”

Fjord snorts. “I don’t know if I would, either.”

“Gods,” Caleb says suddenly, “that was—your situation—”

“It’s okay,” Fjord says. “It could’ve been worse. I could’ve been brainwashed by evil wizards who wanted to...what? Turn me into an assassin? Use me as a weapon? Force me to kill innocents?”

“It was a mixed bag. Maybe all of the above? But at least I had a loving family, first.”

From anyone else, it could’ve sounded cruel. Fjord has long ago gotten used to the weird way the Mighty Nein choose to express themselves.

“Do you miss those old days?”

Caleb’s smile comes back, but this time it’s a little stale.

“Sometimes...hah. Sometimes I even miss the days that came after. Not everything about Soltryce was so bad, you know. And even the...as you say, the ‘evil wizards,’ they were...at the time, despite it all, I enjoyed it.”

“At the time.”

“Yes.”

“And now?”

The smile flickers. “A mixed bag.”

Fjord lets the sickly sweet wine dance on his tongue.

“I have a feeling I know what you mean. I miss...I miss some parts, too. I miss some people, actually, or...I miss the way I used to know them.”

When Caleb is quiet, Fjord finds himself pressing on. He’s not sure if he even means to.

“I hated the orphanage,” he whispers. “I hated it. I hated everything about it, which just made...it just made...” he blinks, “it made me all the more grateful at least Sabian was on my side. I...I used to think he always would be. I always thought it would be me and him against the world, and then...then...gods, I’m sorry—”

“No,” Caleb shakes his head. “Don’t be. He was important to you.”

“Of course he was.” Fjord huffs. “He used to be my whole world. We did everything together. We even signed up together. And then...”

Caleb’s voice is hesitant, but he still asks, “What happened?”

Fjord laughs. “My world got bigger. I...once I met Vandren, got used to sailing, I...I don’t know. It could be selfish, but sometimes I wonder if Sabian resented the fact that he wasn’t the only person in my life anymore. Though I doubt my feelings are important enough for them to be the reason why he betrayed us.”

He all but spits the words out. It’s only then that that he realizes he’s been crying into the mug.

"Gods, I’m—”

He feels Caleb touch his shoulder. It’s still hesitant, but he does.

“It’s alright.”

“...and I’ve ruined the wine.”

“We can always get more.”

A pause.

“I...the worst part is not knowing. Not knowing, and...and not being able to understand. Why. Why did it happen? Was it always my fault? Was...was it always like that, and was I too blind to see? What if it was never even what I thought it was?”

“...yes.”

Fjord looks up.

“Did you ever think of talking to them again? Not...gods, not Tr...you know, him, but...maybe that classmate—”

Caleb sucks in a breath. Again, “Yes.”

“Did it...help?”

He lets go. “Er...to be honest? No.” Then he catches Fjord’s expression, tacks on hastily, “Er, in your situation, it could—”

Fjord bites into his laugh. “It had better. I’m paying good money to find him, actually.”

Caleb doesn’t ask for more details, which isn’t totally surprising. Apparently they’d had similar ideas anyway.

The tension drains away slowly, and Fjord finds it in himself to ask:

“Was she different?”

Caleb shrugs. “In many ways...yes and no. She had changed, but those changes had been in her always. I could see where they came from. I could see why they happened.”

“She was unlucky,” Fjord tries. “The people around her...”

“Yes. She never got the chance I did.”

“No,” Fjord nods. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t feel entitled to Caleb’s expression at that. He doesn’t look, instead stares at the water and counts the seconds as the waves skim by.

“Do you think that Sabian—”

“No.”

“Right.” He hears Caleb breathe out. “Probably not. If it, er, if it counts for anything, though, I am of the mind that...though I did not know you before, you...you are a good person now. Our past...experiences to the contrary, you are a person that I would want to be, Fjord.”

Fjord nearly spills his cup into the sand.

“You—what?”

Caleb, to his shock and delight, looks offended. His face reddens to match his hair.

“I just—well—yes,” Caleb gets out, “I just mean...I think you are a good person. You cannot—that cannot be so hard to believe, unless—I told you, didn’t I? That I forgive you for the sword incident—”

Fjord decides to come to his rescue. He puts the cup down and waves his hand. “Right, right, you did, you did.”

“In case you had forgotten. Your memory is...”

Fjord raises an eyebrow.

“Nevermind.” Caleb amends hastily. “My point is, if you are...worried about your past, and the people who have...who have shaped you to who you are, I just want you to know that I...the you that you are now, Fjord, is an admirable person.”

A pause. Then:

“Thanks, Caleb.”

Caleb leans back on the bench. “Of course.”

They sit there in the silence for a little longer, watching the moon pull slowly on the tide, tracing the shape of clouds on the night sky.

“I—yeurk. Oh, that’s bad.”

“Hm?”

“The wine, I definitely ruined it. I, ah, think we might need a new glass.”

A laugh.

“Come on. Let’s go get one, then.”

— — —

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#critical role #critfic #critrole #fic #fanfiction #SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING IT IN THOUGH HOLY SHIT <3333 #fanfic #caleb widogast #fjord #widofjord #if you squint #jay writes #jay fills requests #jay answers #hsdjkghkj <3333333 #long post

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angelsndragons · 3 years

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Day 1

Day 1 of the Caduceus Clay celebration week, folks, so you know what that means: I get to gush about my favorite character. I did warn y’all I would word vomit.

So, what does Caduceus mean to me?

Well.

My brother lives in a separate state and has for several years now. We talked on the phone pretty much every day but we still missed each other a lot. One of the last things he did to me in person was introduce me to D&D. I loved it. It gave me a community away from home and a way to meet new people and form new friendships in new areas. I would tell him all about my weekly game shop adventures, he would tell me about the homebrew campaign he was in online. He also told me about this little show called Critical Role. I, like the dumb oldest sibling I can be, pretty much ignored it, outside letting him talk to me about it and engaging with it secondhand. Then, my brother’s party lost one of their players. They were down to four players and no full casters, just a gunslinger, a barbarian, a monk, and a non-healer warlock. Things started getting dicey. Like, really dicey. He worried with me over how close their fights were getting and how he felt it was only a matter of time until someone legit died and they couldn’t do anything about it. So, I asked, “Well, can you ask them if I could play? You’re looking for someone and we’re looking to try to do something together, it could work out.” Two years later, that campaign is going strong and (thankfully) no one has died yet.

I bring up this context because it matters: I rolled up a level 10 Grave Cleric. I had never played a cleric before but I had wanted to before my game shop sessions fell apart. And here I was, willingly thrown into the deep end of one of the most complex subclasses of one of the most complex classes in the game. And initially, I was not happy with it. Not just because there was a lot to learn but because of sheer mechanics. By rote, I could not keep up with the damage that the rest of my party was doing. At all. My high level spells weren’t doing much more damage than my freaking cantrips and I just felt stuck. I wanted to contribute outside of healing but really just couldn’t. I shared my frustrations with my brother, who, being the little troll he is, said, “Well, you know Critical Role has a Grave Cleric now, right?” So, to start this love fest, Caduceus taught me how to be a better cleric and because of that, I will never be able untangle the character from my relationship with my brother. Even if he died tomorrow or went evil or whatever, I would still be fond of him just for that.

I don’t remember which episode of campaign 2 I first watched all the way through. I know I started paying attention around Fjord’s chicken game and was fully on board with the series by Yasha’s loss in the pit fight. What I do remember is Caduceus. I remember being drawn in by this guy for some reason I still can’t articulate.

Caduceus is a complex character who is difficult to fully understand and love. People have said unkind things about him, about how he is a glorified NPC or that he is boring or that there is just no ‘there’ there or that he should just go home already. I have seen people say that they think Taliesin should go back to the drawing board and come back with a ‘better’ character, one who vibes better with the group or something. And the sad thing is, I can kind of see where these people are coming from. Understanding Caduceus and what Taliesin is doing with him requires people to pay attention to him, to actively think about him both when he is and is not in the spotlight. And that is hard. Because Caduceus is that character who aggressively tries to divert attention from himself. So right away, we have this tension, this push/pull when it comes to engaging with him. And I do love me a challenge in my favorites. Also love the polite but judgmental assholes who have Opinions they would never say but nevertheless own.

For me, Caduceus’ arc has been about duty and desire, what duty means, how to prioritize yourself, and how to grow. Caduceus’ interrogation of identity as it relates to duty and his blossoming as a person fascinate me most. What is your duty, really? What does it mean to find balance in your life? How do you take down the walls you built to protect yourself? Where do you end and where does your duty begin? What does faith look like outside a strictly Western/Christian lens? Can we find ourselves in other people? What does it mean to grow beyond your wildest imagination and the people you love most?

Caduceus begins the show as a passive, apathetic shadow of a man who has cloaked those traits in duty in order to not deal with his feelings. He had basically grown up in a literal paradise on earth where the problems of the world couldn’t reach or affect him. Until they did. Until his family left. Until the Nein crashed into his temple. Caduceus makes the choice to basically leave paradise, at the Wildmother’s urging, sure, and experience the world in all its messy beauty and ugliness. It is nothing like he expected. It is hard, it is cruel, it tries to drown him at every opportunity. It is also good, the animals, the people, the experiences he has. Hearing Marion sing, learning of a lighthouse to the Wildmother (which he does not fully appreciate yet, this light in the dark storm). Caduceus spends his first chunk of episodes waking up, seeing life outside of paradise. I love these early episodes because they demonstrate just how far Caduceus has actually come (can’t imagine this guy buying an overly large pirate hat as a prank or helping the Traveler offload some followers through an elaborate ceremony, for example).

The crux of Caduceus’ midgame story right up until he saves his family is this: You’ve seen the world, young cleric, are you sure you want to continue to save it? You can go home and turn your back on all of this, what makes you stay in this imperfect world with these imperfect people? We see this a lot, in the questions he asks the Gentleman, in his insistence they save Yasha, in his newfound appreciation and companionship in Fjord, in making the Xhorhaus a home, in his dealings with the stone giants, in his determination to help Nott and her family. And this is the part that made me love him because Caduceus doesn’t shy away from these moments or tough questions. Like most of what he does, he contemplates them quietly and lets his actions speak for him. Caduceus allows himself to get involved, to become invested.

Caduceus’ new major arc is his realization that he is not just some vessel, some passive thing through which the Wildmother’s will will flow. No, he learns that he has to make choices, that he can affect change, and that if he wants this messy, beautiful world to get better, he is going to have to do something about it. Not just wait for Her to tell him it is okay. Taking ownership of his future and what that means to him have shaped Caduceus these last thirty or so episodes. Caduceus has blossomed so damn much. He continued with the Nein because he wanted to, and that led to the discovery of the Astral Sea City. (side note: Anyone want to take a gander what would be happening right now if Caduceus hadn’t been with them?) He not only felt his feelings towards the Nein, he began expressing them. From the man who refused to Scry or Send to his family to one who has a friend call up his sister and tell her he will be back, from the man who clung so tightly to his need to be useful to the Nein to one who openly declares how much he loves these people and how reluctant he is to leave them, from a man who wanted to save his home to one who is trying to save the whole damn world, from a man who couldn’t articulate his feelings if you threatened him to one who is trying so hard communicate, from a man who needed saving from his own apathy and grief to one who saves others, this is who Caduceus Clay has become and I for one am excited to see how the next 100 episodes influence him.

Also I cannot end this word vomit without mentioning the fact that Caduceus being aroace and so warm, loving, and caring is so damn important. Because it is; there are too many people out there who think aros/aces are loveless robots or fake or whatever. And having this person, this caregiver, this annoying little brother, this compassionate man, to hold up against that kind of hate, ignorance, and indifference means more than I will ever be able to express.

#caduceus clay #cr caduceus #caduceus #caduceus meta #long post #critical role #critical role meta #caduceus clay week #cr campaign 2 #the mighty nein #my meta #it's like fjord said #caduceus inspires me #his arc is there people #he has grown as a person #and i am so dang proud of him

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spoiler1001 · 3 years

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"Are you and Lucien going to be a thing, now?" Fjord asked Caleb. Caleb looked at him.

"No. It was just- an agreement has passed and I learned who we are dealing with." Caleb straightened out his coat. "This is the same person that showed up in a tapestry and said, 'I am your god; long may I reign.'" Caleb smiled.

"I can see it." Fjord nodded. "Still, be careful. He could be dangerous."

"He is." Caleb sat in the library. "He's just like me when I killed my mother and father."

"That's not comforting." Fjord shook his head.

"He's being played with and when he's done being useful, he'll be thrown away." Caleb looked away. "We're at the moment at the end of his usefulness. He'll need us."

"You said he's being manipulated?"

"Cree is hiding something from him. Probably the essence of Molly." Caleb looked at the stained glass. "Maybe when he woke up, Molly's influence probably lead him away from her goal. There is something I noticed. When we met Cree, she apologized for not calling him the nonagon, but we were offered one of his given names."

"What are you suggesting?" Fjord asked quietly.

"Maybe he knows that we're not strangers." Caleb shrugged.

"You two are certainly rather close," Fjord mumbled.

"You've said your piece." Caleb sighed. "I know what I'm doing."

-----------------------------------------

Caleb was thankful for Lucien's parting gift. The wind was still cold, but it wasn't icy and burning. He swallowed his smile and thanked Lucien in his heart. The tiefling had scouted ahead before coming back to move as a group. They traveled with them into the ruins. Lucien kept his eyes on the Nein. Caleb's frowned. Something was off.

He could feel Lucien by him, his heartbeat, his injuries, his emotions. Maybe it was because he was so close, maybe it was because Lucien's magic was more than he could handle. Caleb felt his panic rise. Was he going to lose himself, Was all of the positive change that he made with the Nein going to be gone?

"Maybe we should have set up camp for the night?" Lucien asked. Caleb almost flinched. Was Lucien telling him what to do?

"Caleb, can we set up the tower?" Beau asked. Ok. He could. Focusing on the tower grounded himself, calming him. He immediately shot himself up to the room above the eighth floor. Frumpkin appeared, nuzzling his face. He could feel Lucien's concern growing, but the heartbeat and other things were getting numb. It was overwhelming. The entrance to the room opened and Lucien climbed back up.

"What's the matter?" He kept his distance.

"I felt your magic running through me out there. How do I know it won't overtake me?" Caleb almost yelled. Lucien was quiet for a heartbeat.

"Oh. I'm sorry I- my magic was protecting you. My blood was protecting you, so you felt a connection the more the protection was tested. I'm sorry. It won't overtake you. I should have warned you. I'm sorry." Lucien took a step towards him. "I promise, you are still you, firefly. I would never do something that would overstep like that."

Caleb looked at him, feeling the sincerity behind the words. "I have had control taken from me and the people I cared about suffered," Caleb said plainly.

"I gathered when you started to panic. I will take the blessing off if you want. I literally cannot just let my magic affect my allies and friends without explicit consent. The spell doesn't work. It fails. I enhance and strengthen with my blessings. Will you be alright?" Lucien hugged Caleb. Caleb leaned into the touch and nodded.

"I was not prepared for how that would feel." Caleb burrowed his head under Lucien's jaw.

"Do you want me to drop it?" Lucien asked. Caleb shook his head.

"It was effective. I will be prepared for the feeling now." Caleb went to stand up. "Thank you." Caleb finally smiled. "I just needed to straighten out my head."

"I will drop it as soon as soon as you give the word," Lucien said with a serious expression on his face.

"I believe you."

------------------------------------------

Dinner was a bit awkward but the group seemed to be at ease when Caleb appeared to be fine. He was smiling and joking with the rest of the Nein. They continued to blur the line between lunch and dinner and breakfast by having every kind of dessert and pancakes with the meal as the main course. Lucien was having fun but he was becoming more and more aware of the whole inside of him. The group should have been familiar to him and he felt like they were but the connection couldn't be made.

Going to bed was hard. He was exhausted, and Caleb made enough rooms to house the Tombtakers. Lucien got the room on the eighth floor, the room now completely decorated and fancy. The bed was comfortable. It was warm. This is what home felt like. He never wanted to leave. It was comfortable, safe.

He felt tears build in his eyes. He was missing something, but he couldn't place it. There was a broken piece of him. He wasn't a true nonagon. He needed to see Cree.

-------------------------------------------

"You aren't missing anything," Cree said, getting ready for bed. " you're perfect. This group is messing with your mind. We can just leave them."

"No. We can finish what we're doing and move on." Lucien nodded. "Good night."

--------------------------------------

Lucien woke up to pure panic in his throat. There was a commotion in the next room over. He was on his feet in a second. In the room stood Caleb, eyes rolled back into his head, hand around Cree's necklace there was a smell of melting glass.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Lucien demanded.

"We were having a conversation." Cree hissed.

"Bullshit. CONFESS." Lucien hissed loudly enough that there were sounds outside of the rest of the Nein. The Infernal came easily to him as his connection with Cree shattered.

"I didn't like his influence on you so I was going to have him destroy the last bit of connection to the group so we can leave," Cree started.

Oh. The Mighty Nein walked in to see Lucien began to lift Cree off of the ground. "Get Caleb. None of you need to see this." Fjord grabbed a numb and unresponsive but breathing Caleb. The Nein, not counting Caduceus left the room.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked Lucien, who had his eyes locked on the tabaxi cleric.

"I'm not really sure of anything anymore." Lucien shook his head. "I don't know anything anymore."

"Take a deep breath and focus," Caduceus whispered, grabbing the heated glass from its place on Cree's necklace. She had a look of terror on her face. Caduceus looked at the orb and considered it for a second, before preparing a greater restoration spell. The spell made the glass shatter against his chest and a light flashed in the room. Cree was dropped on the ground dazed and confused. Lucien dropped to his knees as everything started to make sense.

Frumpkin took the opportunity to attack, slashing Cree across the eye, causing it to bleed. She ran out of the room and away from Lucien, clutching her eye.

"That's a good kitty, Frumpkin," Lucien spoke in a distant voice. "I remember everything."

-------------------------------------------

Caleb woke up to see Jester starting down at him. His eyes blinked into focus rather quickly and he sat up. Caduceus was supporting Lucien who was talking to Yasha, clutching her hand. Fjord was keeping his distance. Caleb groaned as he tried to stand up. "Cree?"

"The cold will get her. She left after you were taken out." Fjord answered. "Caduceus brought Molly back."

Caleb looked at the purple tiefling. He looked like Lucien, but the emotions running through the magic showed relief, familiarity, and safety. Caleb felt tears build in his eyes.

"What do you remember about the Iron Shepards?" Caleb whispered.

"Enough. I'm just happy everyone is back. You're all so different. I look forward to reacquainting myself with all of you." L-Molly grinned at all of them, ending on Caleb.

-------------------------------------

"Do you still want the blessing on?" Molly asked Caleb through the wall as they went to keep on resting.

"Yes. It's very cold up north and I feel better about it now that everything is squared." Caleb answered.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. After spending so much time with the tomb takers I forgot others would know about that." Molly gently headbutted the wall. I know it's stupid, but still, I'm sorry."

"You are forgiven. I'm sorry about Cree." Caleb whispered.

"You warned me about her."

"You lost-"

"Everyone important to me followed me here, everyone else dragged me here." Molly interrupted. "I wish we could have this conversation face to face."

"Nothing is stopping you from coming over here. You're welcome to it." Caleb smiled.

Molly couldn't get there fast enough.

#critical role #mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #widomauk #lucien critical role #cr spoilers #tw eye horror #tw blood #tw panic attack #angst and vengence return

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essektheylyss · 4 years

Note

If you’re taking fic requests maybe Essek dancing with Caleb as dezran thane at the party?

Okay, turns out I don’t know how to write short things ever! This prompt was FUN. Mostly because spy intrigue in fancy settings is my shit and we truly did not get enough of it in 97. I hope you enjoy, anon!

He shouldn’t be staring, not with so much at stake and so many people in attendance who have seen through him before. He should not be watching his co-conspirator so intently as he talks with the man who might bring this entire scheme crashing down.

Essek would love to leave this party as fast as possible, but he swallows down another sip of his drink and hovers as far from the Mighty Nein as possible. That is harder than it should be, with them roaming all corners of the ballroom, but he should’ve expected as much.

None of this has been easy since they’d crashed through the walls of his life, and he’d enjoyed their intrusion at dinner, but this is simply out of control.

He needs to leave as soon as possible without arousing suspicion.

But Caleb is speaking with the Martinet, and Beau returned from an alcove with Caduceus looking around with eyes like plates like she’s on drugs, and the rest of them locked a nobleman on the balcony, and he hasn’t seen Veth in too long to not be suspicious, and he thinks that this is altogether going to crash and burn as thoroughly as they have crashed and burned any possibility of him escaping this scheme remorselessly.

And Caleb is still speaking with the Martinet.

He watches them toast, and he downs half of his drink with them, from the other side of the room. He anxiously casts prestidigitation to keep the hair of his illusion upright. It is kind of silly, he admits, but it gives his hands something to do.

They are situated on the edge of an ocean, about to embark on an undertaking the likes of which this continent has not seen in centuries, and he feels thoroughly anchored to this spot, even without his feet touching the ground.

Caleb gives the Martinet a slight nod, and seems to excuse himself. Essek lets out a sigh of relief.

And then those blue eyes meet his, and his heart nearly stops as Caleb moves in his direction.

They’re all dressed to the nines—ha—and he can’t help but think that Caleb cleans up very nicely. Essek has never seen him look disheveled, aside from perhaps when he entered the throne room in those ridiculous chains, but he has also never seen him dress up.

He tries to shift somewhere Caleb might not catch up to him, but the ballroom is only so big, and after a moment, he finds the wizard standing in front of him with an imperceptible expression. He has to remind himself that Caleb cannot see who is underneath this mask of his—this is not a masquerade, but Essek is hidden all the same.

If he was seen, it would be the end for him, and for all he has worked to accomplish.

It would also be the end of this, he thinks, as Caleb nods gently, and once again shakes himself; he is not himself. There is nothing between them here.

There is nothing between them in Rosohna, either, he reminds himself. He shouldn’t be so foolish.

“We did not get to speak much, yesterday,” Caleb says quietly, and holds out a drink. Essek takes it with a barely steady hand, and for a split second wonders if it’s poisoned.

He is Lord Dezran Thane, and Lord Dezran Thane is not a person whom Caleb Widogast would find a need to poison.

He takes a drink to avoid answering and nods.

Caleb pierces him with a gaze that chills him to the bone, freezing him in place. Caleb cannot know. He can’t. Essek—Lord Thane—would not be standing here, alive, if he did.

“You do not say much, Lord Thane.”

“No, I am, ah, not used to this kind of event.”

“Then why are you here?”

He gives a half-smile. Caleb’s got him—Lord Thane—there. He hadn’t expected to need much of his cover story, and attending this party was rather incongruous with what little he’s explained.

“I would very much love not to be here.” He shoves down a cringe as he remembers an echo of a statement that sounded very much like that one. Different enough that it shouldn’t alert Caleb to it, Caleb who has a memory to rival his own, but if he’s not found Essek out—

Caleb’s piercing stare has not shifted from his own, and he is glad that Lord Dezran Thane has already expressed discomfort at interacting with other people.

“Well, that makes too of us,” Caleb says lowly, and clinks his glass against Essek’s. “To getting this all over with, hmm?”

Essek nods, and they both drink together, as the band in the corner strikes up a light tune, a prelude to whatever performance Jester’s mother is going to make soon, and he looks around to see if she is in fact arriving now. When he looks back, Caleb holds out a hand. “Would you, ah, care to dance?”

Essek sees several pairs move toward the center, where a bit of a dance floor has begun to assemble, moving in time with the movement, and he swallows hard as he sets one foot on the ground, then the other. That would be far too much of a tip off—having a signature spell like that is all well and good until you are trying not to be seen, and he has no doubt Caleb would see that.

He is several inches shorter than Lord Dezran Thane, but if the change has made any difference in that, it does not seem to register on Caleb’s face.

“Very well,” he sighs, and sets his fingers in Caleb’s palm, and allows him to lead them both into the crowd.

On another time, in another body, in another life perhaps, he could enjoy this, but right now he seeks out the faces of Caleb’s friends, the ones who he knows are watching, who are all likely on high alert, and several of them are most definitely watching—Jester’s tail flicks back and forth as she snacks on whatever hors d’oeuvres she’s found at the food table with a shit-eating smirk, elbowing Yasha, who seems rather uncomfortable beside her.

Across the room, Beau and Fjord are staring daggers at them, Beau’s eyes still huge—she cannot focus on anything for long, though, and Fjord keeps hissing something to her. Essek wonders what they might be saying.

The only thing that he can feel at all is his hand in Caleb’s, and that feels as though it’s on fire.

“You know, I am not so used to dancing—“

“That’s alright,” Caleb murmurs as he pulls Essek—Lord Thane—to his chest, and Essek thinks if he wasn’t so numb that Caleb’s breath on his cheek would’ve elicited more of a reaction.

As it is, he shivers, and Caleb has not allowed him to look away.

“I will lead, ja?”

He only nods, and then Caleb steps, and he follows.

But only for a few steps, before he’s already stepped on Caleb’s toes, and they start again. It happens twice more before the mirth in Caleb’s eyes is apparent.

“If you would like me to lead,” he says, “then you need to let me.”

For a moment, it almost feels like they are in the library of the Xhorhaus, where there is no pretense between them. Essek imagines for that moment what total surrender might feel like, a shifting of the weight off of his shoulders for the first time in three years, an allowance that others may be willing to help him right the wrongs that his actions have led to.

It also might feel like a death sentence, a noose around his throat, an executioner’s blade at the back of his neck.

But for tonight, this small relinquishing of control is not so dangerous. He nods again, and they start once more, and this time Essek does step in time with him. Though he’s unused to being on his feet, Caleb’s movements are confident and assured, and it’s not so hard to follow when Essek lets himself follow, for the first time in a long time.

“Where did you learn to dance, Caleb?”

If Caleb notices that he’s forgotten the pretense of using last names, he doesn’t address it. “A very long time ago, in my schooling. I attended the Soltryce Academy, in my youth. I had very impressive teachers.”

And he stares at Essek so hard that he fears for a moment that his illusion has dropped in the time they’ve been dancing. He looks to his hand on Caleb’s shoulder, which is lighter skinned than his own, and narrowly avoids breathing a sigh of relief.

“I did not know the Cerberus Assembly thought dance an important skill to teach,” he says softly, and his eyes flicker to the Martinet, who has not found them in the crowd, surrounded as they are by other couples and obscured by the dim light.

“The Cerberus Assembly prizes many skills that allow you to get to know those you work with. You must know how… slippery—they are to get to know.”

He blinks back to the Winds of Eons, and stumbles over his words before he smiles. “Oh, yes. The Cerberus Assembly is well known for their secrecy. But then, many mages have their secrets.”

“Yes, they do.”

Essek isn’t sure how he stays upright when Caleb pins his gaze this time, and he mouths wordlessly for several seconds before the song ends, and the couples around them break apart and applaud politely for the band.

They don’t move as another song begins, more jaunty, but it is so cold in the middle of all these people with Caleb’s hands on his hand and waist.

“The Cerberus Assembly is far more dangerous than you know,” Caleb whispers and Essek almost considers teleporting them away right then and there, dragging them both to another plane if it means they can have a different conversation, one without so much weight. Gravity has never been a problem for him before this moment, and he is rapidly losing control of whatever composure he’d thought he could maintain in this dance.

It goes far beyond whatever they are doing right now, and Essek imagines that they both know it, even though that’s impossible.

“Be careful,” he says, and then lets go aside from his hand, to which he bows to press a kiss. It lingers on his skin, even after Caleb has pulled away, turned to stride toward his friends, and the cold night air hits Essek’s fingers.

He rubs the spot where Caleb’s lips touched his hand as though it burns.

#critical role #critical role fanfiction #essek thelyss #shadowgast #Anonymous #essek fic requests #no I don't know how to end one-shots and I'm not about to learn now #I loved writing this so much #mwahahaha intrigue

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liveinink · 4 years

Text

So pretty much ever since we met the Bright Queen people have had different interpretations of her words and motivations. And different interpretations of the Dynasty and how it functions. Now from what I’ve seen, most people seem pretty pro-Dynasty and opposed to the Empire, but even then there are statements like, “I know the Bright Queen wants to murder everyone in the Empire, but...” And here’s the thing, I truly don’t think she does. I personally think that is a misinterpretation of her stated intentions, though very understandable. And it’s backed up by what some of the Nein seem to think of her, which doesn’t help. I’ve also seen a few people more seriously call the Bright Queen a genocidal zealot, which I feel is a wild misinterpretation personally that is not at all backed up by canon, but I can’t really tell people they’re wrong (though personally I think that specifically is). I’m not here to say that my interpretation is absolutely right and others are absolutely wrong. I’ve just had this on my mind for a while and I’m going to share my personal analysis. Essay under the cut.

First, though I have addressed this myself before, as have others, I feel it’s important to address the “slavery” issue here. There is absolutely no evidence whatsoever that the Kryn practice slavery, and at this point if it existed the Nein would have noticed it. The only indication the Nein had that slavery was practiced in Xhorhas was in Yasha’s description of the Kryn. A description that Ashley stated on Talks was deliberately exaggerated to make Xhorhas sound worse than it is so that the Nein wouldn’t want to go there. Also, it was not entirely reliable information to begin with. Yasha said herself she had never interacted with the Kryn, she only knew stories. And as we’ve seen, there are a lot of false horror stories about the Kryn circulating the world. The Nein assumed, based on little to no evidence, that slavery was a practice and that’s how they came to their very poor decision to disguise the humans as slaves. Despite seeing humans freely living and working in Asarius, including one in the government building. And they, luckily, never actually used the word “slave” to describe the humans, so the Dynasty members they interacted with weren’t condoning slavery. They were clearly confused by the humans’ attire, but otherwise they were given no explanation of what was happening with the humans outside of them being “help” of a sort. And the pair of orcs in Asarius and Lythir’s reactions don’t speak to slavery being condoned by the Dynasty, they speak to a few individuals being jerks to humans. And on that point, the discrimination towards humans that we’ve seen in Xhorhas, which has actually been relatively rare, seems more about individual biases and general mistrust of humans due to their tensions with the Empire. It doesn’t seem like there is a lot of systemic racism in the Dynasty from what we’ve seen so far.

Now to the Bright Queen specifically. When we first met the Bright Queen, she welcomed strangers into her throne room, ready to reward them for service to her people. Obviously events spiraled, but that still says something about her. She’s willingly to hold an audience with random mercenaries at pretty much a moment’s notice just because a trusted individual said they’d been helpful and they wanted to see her. There’s a war, on top of everything she must have to regularly deal with given the relics of the Calamity scarring the land, and just the general responsibilities of running a nation. She must have more important things do to. And yet she accepted the Mighty Nein’s request to see her. Then, after being given the Beacon, she asks the Nein if they have any questions she can answer. Again, she did not have to do that personally. She did not have to be nearly as generous or forgiving towards them as she was, but that’s a point that will reemerge later.

Now, here’s where people start to have a problem. Leylas says that the Kryn will not stop attacking the Empire until they leave “an equal or more share of blood” and she tells the Nein to warn anyone they care about to leave the Empire. Now first hearing that, it’s alarming. Sounds bloodthirsty. But with everything we know about her, and the benefit of hindsight, given other statements she has made and the actions of her soldiers, I don’t think this is a bloodthirsty statement. I think it’s more to the point that, as Leylas later explained, if there can not be peace until one side can no longer retaliate, then the Dynasty needs to do enough damage to the Empire’s armies that the Empire can no longer pose a threat. That will be a lot of blood. And I think there’s also an implicit statement that the Bright Queen cannot promise there will be no collateral damage. Civilians can be injured or killed in war, and it’s not always intentional. We know the Dynasty doesn’t want to slaughter civilians because we’ve seen evidence of it: Felderwin. If I’m remembering correctly, nobody died in the attack on Felderwin, and the only people injured were guards. There was damage to the buildings, but it could have been so much worse. The Kryn could have razed the whole town if they wanted. It was small and poorly defended, and doing extra damage would not hinder their goals. But they didn’t. They went, fought the guards, found what they came for (sort of), took it, and left. Even if my memory of this event is not perfect, I do know for certain that that attack could have been so much worse. It wasn’t. Which, to me, speaks to how the Kryn operate.

Also, if the Bright Queen’s statements here were purely about revenge, then I’ll say this: I’ll let it slide. Because even if she was wrapped up in ideas of vengeance in that moment, she clearly hasn’t acted on them, and given her other statements and actions, I don’t think she truly intends to. Her people have been wronged by the Empire. If she wants a moment to fantasize about revenge, I’m inclined to let her have.

Now I will say this before moving on, the torture of Yeza is bad. Undeniably. But I don’t think it can be any example of the Kryn being evil. They’re just not perfect. You know, like people. And unfortunately, people misguidedly think it can be effective to torture other people for information. Moving on to the Bright Queen’s speech about the cycle of violence. I think a lot of people, including members of the Nein, heard what they feared/expected rather than what was actually said here. And as a side note, expectations based on Empire propaganda and general association with what the races of Xhorhas have been made out to be in fantasy of the past (and present) is a factor here. But let’s look at what was actually said:

Beau: Being of the Empire, what we can for sure tell you is that they do not take kindly to being bested or embarrassed and they will retaliate with the full force of everything they've been working towards.

BQ: If I am correct in my beliefs, this is retaliation for our retaliation.

Beau: Yes, it's a lot of retaliation.

BQ: This will continue until one side cannot retaliate and we hope with a swift enough and well-planned plot laid out with this information, perhaps we can keep them from being able to retaliate for some time.

...

Beau: We can help you break the cycle.

BQ: The cycle cannot be broken until there is nothing living. All we can do is our best to keep it slow.

Jester: Why can't the cycle be broken?

BQ: Because life is pain for many. Jealousy, strife. Some need to conquer. There will always be those that will do whatever it takes to get one over the man or woman or otherwise to their left and right.

Caduceus: Talking about yourself or the Empire right now?

BQ: I'm talking about anything that draws breath. And it is our duty to acknowledge that and try to keep those base designs at bay. But one cannot bow down when others do not show that same will of understanding or else they will lie slaughtered.

Personally, I understand, but I don’t really understand exactly how this got misconstrued, because to me it seems obvious. Leylas explains her views quite clearly, and not a single one of them is “everyone in the Empire needs to die.” No, this is an explanation of the world and “human” nature as she has observed it in the last 1200 years. First, due to her experiences with the Empire, she does not believe peace can be achieved through, well, peaceful means. She clearly doesn’t expect that the Empire will be willing to put down their arms, so the only other means of ending the war is ensuring that they cannot retaliate anymore. And note that she never says, “and once they’re weak we’re going to wipe them out,” no. The implication, as I see it, is that they want to incapacitate the army, then enjoy a time of peace for as long as they can make it last. Because Leylas so clearly explains their cultural philosophy toward violence. First, it’s inevitable as long as people live. People. Anyone. She clarifies that herself. “Anything that draws breath.” Not Empire people specifically, all people. And while in the previous conversation about the Empire she noted that propaganda may have corrupted the minds of those in the Empire, she admitted that they probably were not all lost causes. She just expressed that what they had been taught would likely make the general public hostile towards the Kryn.

Secondly, the Kryn believe that violence is bad. Simply put, but that is the simple version of what she said. It’s unavoidable, but people should try to avoid it. To “keep those base designs at bay.” But someone will always have a reason they feel is justified to incite violence. And the Kryn can’t simply not defend themselves. But they do their best to keep the cycle of violence slow. Even while having to acknowledge the desires for aggression within themselves, and trying to not give in to them. Leylas does not exclude herself or her people from this. She knows the Kryn too are imperfect people.

I remember once coming across a post that offered some very interesting analysis on the Dynasty as a society built for peace rather than war, and I wish I could remember more about it. Sadly I can’t, but there is some evidence to suggest that. I’m not going to risk stealing someone else’s ideas by writing about it here, though. What I will say, is that the Dynasty, for all people are worried about it being a rigid caste system, which I see where the worry comes from, it certainly has that potential, we haven’t actually seen that yet, so I couldn’t say for certain that’s true; the Dynasty is a meritocracy. Arguably a theocracy as well, though they demonstrably practice religious freedom. But their leaders are all selected for reward because of their proven merit and service to society. The Dynasty has numerous times proven that it rewards for service. Not the kind of loyalty that Dwendal demands, but services rendered to the people. Like the Nein closing the Abyssal rifts, and giving warning of Empire attacks. They are consistently rewarded for their good deeds towards the Dynasty. They are actually treated with great generosity, especially considering they are not technically citizens of Xhorhas. Unless the Bright Queen considers them to be at this point, but I don’t know. They certainly weren’t when they started, but they’ve been treated well since the beginning, much to their own surprise.

The Mighty Nein have actually been treated remarkably well by the Dynasty in every interaction they’ve had with them (the higher ranking members at the very least). The worst things that have happened to them are nearly being arrested for (by Lythir’s perception) attacking Kryn soldiers, and being scried on. Which let’s be honest, the scrying is invasive and not great, but also understandable. The Nein have been treated well from their first encounters with Lady Olios, to the Bright Queen, to every interaction they’ve had with Essek and everything he’s given them (yes they owe him favors but let’s be real he’s done a lot for them), right up to them panicking about being arrested for failure and instead being rewarded for what they did do and being thanked for the warning of the Laughing Hand. The Bright Queen even offered reassurance that they did their best and there was nothing more they could do with the Laughing Hand.

The Nein’s disturbance that the Bright Queen didn’t seem to take their warning about Obann, the Angel of Irons, etc. seriously I think was not totally correct. I think it was less that she didn’t take it seriously and more like “Oh, another Calamity horror is plaguing my land? Okay, adding that to the list of things to take care of, on top of preexisting Calamity horrors, war with the Empire, etc.” Also, she’s been a ruler for a long time. She probably has a pretty good poker face, and part of her role is likely appearing to be in control so her citizens can be reassured that everything will be alright.

And to top off this analysis with a cherry (for now at least), the Bright Queen was receptive to communication with a Tal’Dorei official, trusted the Nein’s word, and called off attacks on the enemy capital so as to not inadvertently aid cultists of Tharizdun. She seems to have her priorities straight. We’ll have to wait now to see how she acts when the Nein next speak to her.

That’s as much as I think I have in me for now. In conclusion: I love drow, and I will defend the Dynasty with everything in me.

#critical role #mighty nein #the bright queen #leylas kryn #kryn dynasty #cr meta #long post

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readbythestarlight · 4 years

Text

c2e84

Wow, that was a surpassingly normal ad!

Oh boy here we go lore drop!

Therizdune the chained oblivion who is chained at the bottom of the abyss

"He’s basically the boogeyman" if the boogeyman was a HORRIBLE ELDRITCH MONSTER

...IS the boogeyman a horrible eldritch monster?! Oh god.

[[MORE]]

This is great and awful like terrible abyssal eldritch things that can creep into the world through gaps and rifts encourages people to be violent and awful

Also I’m so satisfied that the chains actually ended up being significant

Okay so Yussah knows a guy who we know knows Trent, so... that’s not cool. I mean o totally trust Yussah now it’s not that, it’s just can we trust Ormid?

So not all the Cerberus assembly is bad re: Yussah. But like he’s basically a hermit living in his tower, yeah? Who doesn’t go into the Empire? So like how out of touch is he?

"Trent seems just creepy" that’s putting it mildly

Money? Ball bearings? xD

Oh nice some of the Halas money

Oh Nott honey

Fjord being like "Nott? Caleb please talk to your goblin."

And they’re just all discussing it in the background

NOTT DO NOT

oh boy don’t like that

Oh dear...

"Your FACE is stupid" oh Nott

Lock the gem away somewhere

"You’ll still work at it and try?" Oh honey of course he will

I like how they handled that. They didn’t put Nott down, they gently reminded her that Halas can’t be trusted.

Oh I hope that doesn’t trigger Caleb

And I hope that didn’t just fuck them over with Halas maybe

Cad’s like "can we not?" and then just silencing everyone who keeps trying to talk to him

Y’all need to call your OTHER wizard friend (aka HOTT BOI) to let him know you’re fine and not dead or anything cause this is probably the longest he’s gone without hearing from you

"Everything’s been smoothed over" I wonder if Dairon had anything to do with that

I wonder where she is...

Also this is late cause he said it like ages ago but I love Cad’s little bits of homely wisdom, like the whole holes in a bucket metaphor.

PLATINUMMMMMMM

A WHOLE SATCHEL

TIME TO BUY A KEEP Y’ALL

Kidding I like the xhorhaus

Holy SHIT

21,000 gold??

That puts them at 350 platinum which is like 3,500 apiece NICE

Please def check in with Orli I miss him

I’m gonna insist they all get either matching M9 tattoos or Captain tusktooth tattooes

ORLIIIII

Oh my

Yeah a charisma bump is a good choice Nott xD

YOU ALL BETTER GET MATCHING TATTOOS

"chaos crew" lol

Imagine the stories those "new faces" have heard of the M9 from the older crew

1312 gold not bad!

Fuck y’all I love Orli! I missed him. I hope Fjord retires and goes back to sailing with Orli and the crew someday.

F: "Can I ask, how painful is this... procedure?"

O: "oh-ho-ho! Quite."

Oh lord

B: "Is that infected? Is that infected?!"

O: "No, he’s just a.....................Pansy."

Girls day!

Ohhh I like that idea Nott! Can’t wait to see the new art of that.

I like the start of the idea but the "like the Traveler’s hugging me" is slightly creepy to me. Idk.

BeauJester shippers just got a gift xD

Oh... Molly’s all seeing eye tattoo. My heart. Taliesin looks really touched.

Omg a nat1

Ouch fuck Matt you didn’t have to describe that

Matt’s like "here’s your pretty tattoo Nott, here’s your very lovely tattoo Jester, here’s your TOTALLY BOMBASS tattoo that goes all the way up the BACK OF YOUR SKULL Beau"

like I’m not saying Matt plays favorites but his wife’s character definitely got the coolest tattoo

Boy talk over fish and chips heck yeah

Mmm gonna get some deep talk from Caleb?

Caleb expressing that he feels like maybe they’ve been brought together for a purpose <3

Cad telling him he’s believed Caleb was meant for something important since the beginning

Caleb the green bean farmer

"The god’s plant us, plant their will and their desire, and we move towards the fruit we’re meant for bear for them." Aw that’s... sweet, Cad.

Fjord being like "idk man I’m still figuring it out" what a mood

Caleb admitting he feels like he should run away

"I have started to forget what it was like not being with you people. And we are missing one, I am stuck on the fact that we are still missing one."

I wish I was fast enough to transcribe word for word this conversation because it’s excellent

I like Fjord’s question of "when you know, do you run away or do the right thing knowing it could kill you"

C: "You two are alright."

Cad: "We’re getting better."

F: "So are you, you know, you should give yourself credit."

C: "Mm..."

Cad: "I know... just think about it."

(Wow my old Widofjord feelings just came back with a vengeance.)

Cad adding in his own encouraging words about how Caleb is growing and becoming better made me happy too

C: "I hate tattoos."

Nott in the distance: AHHHH

C: "they’re just not for me."

Cad: "they’re frowned upon in my family."

And then they go see the girls

"We brought fish and chips—what they fuck"

All the Jester ships are eating well tonight

I’m so glad Jester finally got her cool tattoo

Y’all don’t want to see mom and Yeza and Luc?

lol Jester "I didn’t tell my mom about the tattoo"

"I’ve seen parents find out their kids had tattoos literally at the funeral"

I literally could not tell if that was Cad or Taliesin sharing

You guys didn’t even say bye to Orli! YOU MONSTERS

Boy that talks blurb with Brian talk about Caleb is GOOD SHIT MAN

No Brian don’t stop please go on and on about Caleb

lol Matt getting himself in the face with the paper

I knew Dairon was the one who got them out of trouble <3

EXPOSITOR OUTFIT AYYYY

just got new official art and now Beau gets a new outfit and the girls get tattoos xD

B: "I apologize"

M9: "wwwwwoooooaaaaahhh"

And library access again yay!

HEYYYY DAIRON

Beau gets to be a role model now lol

Oh yikes... selling out the Kryn to the King... don’t like that

Vence... NewTHEYLESS??

I don’t like that

Everyone: *excited freaking about Beau’s expositor room*

Cad, a good 10 seconds behind: "You had a monk bunk."

Dairon admitting she realized her prejudices against the Kryn were wrong. You know what that is? Growth.

They’re all so proud of Expositor Beau

Caleb trying to do "normal" accents is amazing lol

I don’t want him to be split from the group but I definitely understand his concern

Scary world ending lore oh boy

Oh god I forgot about the gentleman being here...

YES NO DO NOT GO ALONE that’s a dumb idea honey Jester please

N about J: "well she convides in everybody. Just says whatever she wants to say all the time."

This whole Beau and Nott conversation is amazing xD

Fjord and Jester: talking

Beau and Nott: talking

Caduceus walking along and enjoying the group communicating and sharing their feelings

Is he an earth genasi?

That’s the second time another wizard has called Yussah a fool, poor guy

I like how Ormid’s like "who the fuck are these people" but he also trusts Yussah enough to listen to them that’s nice

Hmmm I don’t like that’s awfully suspicious

WHISPERSSSSS

He keeps coming back to the beacon and I don’t like it

So like.. what if he is in on the whole thing and is trying to steer them away from looking deeper into the beacon?

Jester honey why you go and name drop Trent?? Like fuck.

Also interesting that both the King and his council have been more aggressive and pro-war lately, and the Bright Queen is also bent on the conflict in a way that I’ve personally felt doesn’t seem to quite mesh with her character, it definitely lends towards the idea that they’re being manipulated

Ormid’s a bit of a dick, although I guess I can understand, they’re not explaining themselves super well

Hng idk how I feel about Ormid and I’m not sure that I like that he now knows Dairon is working to get an audience with the king

But then again I’m bad about telling which NPCs are trustworthy and which aren’t.

Ormid’s face when they mentioned the cat OH MY GOD

okay fine god now I have to trust him

"I know we are talking about very important things but" I’m dying

Y’all fixing to get a symbol of the Cerberus Assembly damn

I don’t necessarily LIKE Ormid not entirely trust him but he’s already

Insight check on Sprinkles to see if he wants to go back with Jester aw

lol getting pet advice from him maybe I like him a little bit

PUMAT SOOOOL

it’s been so long!

PUMAAAAT SOL

Guys I have missed Pumat so much he just brings me so much joy

Fetch quest for Pumat DO IT PLZ

Wait

Basilisk oil that’s maybe not a great idea

GO SAILING TO THE ISLANDS

They gotta go to islands for Traveler Con right is that close?

"Let me get it from CritRole stats" lol

Oh thank god health potions

Armor boost oil is neat (plus 1 to AC isn’t bad) but ouch it’s pricy

I love that they CANNOT keep money they get it and then they spend it. It’s #relatable

Uh.... what’s happening to my boy?!

Caduceus?!

MATT WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY BOY??

45 pats slashing??

WHAT IS HAPPENING

CADUCEUS

oh NO

fuck no

Is there a rift near?!

WHAT THE FUCK

The Inevitable End?

WHAT IS HAPPENING?

Evil assassin person??

45 points of damage fuck

This is bad

Sam: “WE’RE SHOPPING MATT” MOOD

23 doesn’t hit?!

Oh they’re in trouble

God DAMN I’m freaked out omg

Does he have The Invulnerable Vangrent as a map??

God what a cliffhanger

#a day late but OH MY GOD #Critical Role #cr spoilers #emi watches critical role

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yfere · 5 years

Text

M9 Signature Moves! (Out of Combat Edition)

Part 2, with some scattered commentary.

Fjord

Fjord wants to understand other people even if he’s not the best at it. Meanwhile, he’d like to avoid making himself understood. He doesn’t like scrutiny, or vulnerability. Better to step back behind someone else.

Mask of Many Faces. What he says: I like people watching :) What he means: I like imitating other people’s voices and appearances to cope with my many issues :)

Deception Check. The funny thing is, I’m fairly certain Fjord’s talent for deception comes not through dedicated practice or being a habitual liar/obfuscater so much as having deadpan sarcasm levels that are so God Tier that everyone else has to really work at figuring out whether he’s joking or not at any given moment. “Make a deception check,” Matt says, when Fjord is literally just making a shitty sarcastic joke. The party routinely giving him Doubtful Looks until he has to explain that he really was just joking, he didn’t mean that, why would you think he meant that. Likes to joke sometimes to avoid more uncomfortable emotions. It’s important to him, to keep it together.

Gift of the Depths Magic that helped him cope with the drowning thing. Erroneously assumes it will also help other people cope with their water issues as well.

Help Action The beautiful thing about Fjord, I think, is that oftentimes he will not lead in any particular task. Even the ones where technically, they would benefit by him leading! What he does instead, routinely, is pick someone else for the task, someone better than him (Caleb for history and investigation, Caduceus for insight, Jester and Beau for perception and so on) or even just a person who wants to do it, and he will help them with that task, or at the very least make sure they get help. And his help is always a useful thing to have. It helps him, too, to step back, to get out of the glare of the spotlight.

Beau

Beau is curious, she is intelligent, and she is talented. But as much as she postures, she’s not really as confident in her abilities as she should be by rights.

Extort Truth Don’t. Lie. To. Me. How Beau wants to know things, wants to know them so badly she will go after secrets with the bluntest of instruments, something painfully obvious—and it will work for her. It works when she punches the truth out of people, just as it works when she threatens not to let you into her library unless you tell her of your sordid past.

Persuasion Check Don’t. Lie. To. Me….please? No, but it’s brilliant how the party relies on her to handle their most fraught social encounters, even though she’s not the most charismatic, even though she’s personally better at lying than telling the truth. Because, despite everything, she’s the most trustworthy of all of them. They believe in her, rely on her, and they should.

History Check Beau might claim she’s more interested in the doodles of the margins of the books she read at the Cobalt Soul than the texts themselves, but at least part of that is posturing. She’s a big nerd who has done a lot of studying of some obscure shit, and she’s always looking around her to see if any of the fuckery they encounter matches up with one of those shitty lessons she had at the monastery. She pays attention, okay?

Acrobatics Check “I parkour.” It’s gotten to the point where she does not actually need to make skill checks to do her parkour magic. Still, nothing beats running your way out of a literal pit.

Caleb

What Caleb says and what he does are two very different things. Maybe once you take all his spell components away, he’ll actually be forced to use language to express how he feels. But who are we kidding. He’ll start muttering in Zemnian and you’ll be right back where you started with him.

Leomund’s Tiny Hut As with much of Caleb’s magic, a love letter to his special people. Says all the things he refuses to. Developed in an obsessive fervor while his friends were kidnapped, and unveiled when they were rescued so no one would be taken in the night again. Someday, he will make them something even better. He believes in a future where he will make them something even better.

Identify Demonstrating succinctly a lot of what makes Caleb a lovely and generous person, and also what makes him a bit of a secret-hoarding asshole. Because he likes doing favors for people, and showering them with gifts, and when you’re poor the gift lies in the identify and the giving, even when technically the item you were giving away was communal property in the first place. But also, when Caleb wants something because he thinks it’s fair for him to have as it was fair for the others to have their things, he will learn what it is, and he will keep it without a word. Jerk! Explain exactly what it is so we can keep the illusion that this is a fair process you’ve set up!

Find Familiar Caleb really loves Frumpkin, and Frumpkin is supposed to be a cat, and supposed to be with him, getting pet. But if Frumpkin has to be something else because you need him to be, he will. If Frumpkin has to scope out enemy territory for you to be safe, so be it. Frumpkin will be your landing pad, he will be the trade that will let a caged creature go free, he will sit in your pocket as a replacement owl, he will sit in the rain in the dark and watch over you while you sleep.

Suggestion Sometimes Caleb doesn’t want to leave things up to chance. Deep down, he doesn’t really trust people, so when he’s uncertain or threatened he’ll substitute persuasion and insight to force someone to do what he needs them to do. Tell us the truth about who you are. Show me any dangerous items you have on your person. Go with us into the water, so you are not left behind.

Nott

Nott wants to go back to being Veth, but in some ways she’s really living her best life right now, causing trouble and learning how to cause trouble doing things she never knew how to do before.

Message She can talk to who she pleases, but she and Caleb get their own private line, where no one else is invited “You can reply to this message, and only I can hear your reply.” One of their first spells together, the beginning of Nott the Brave, the Arcane Trickster.

Disguise Self Nott wants to feel comfortable in her own skin. And she doesn’t feel it with the spell, she feels just the same, but she looks the way she is supposed to, and that’s a step. A painful step, when the son she hugs can feel the wrongness of her through the illusion even as she clings to him.

Tinker Check/Alchemist’s Supplies Nott is nothing if not a smart cookie, creative, and reckless as fuck. She will mess with chemicals and she will mess with acid and she will mess with gunpowder—all things which feature centrally in special moves that never quite go as planned like Fireline and Fluffernutter. She will blow things up—sometimes herself. But that’s the joy of a creative mind, really.

Mage Hand Why disable the trap when you can just set it off at a distance? Explosions are more fun to watch than not-explosions, after all. Also makes you look like a cool motherfucker when you’re in a drinking contest.

Jester

Art, heart, and imagination...that is Jester. What she does is more than just pranks and troublemaking, though--her skills are integral to solving any goal put forward by the M9. And what of her own goals? Time will tell.

Sending Caleb might be good enough with his polymorphs to turn people into other people, but Jester, her art, and her imagination give her an edge in another spell. All you have to do is describe a person to her, good enough for her to do a real nice police sketch, to imagine what the person is like. And she’ll be able to cast a spell that will communicate with them anywhere, even though she’s never laid eyes on them before. A hard spell to wrangle for a natural chatterbox, maybe, but her sheer talent you cannot deny.

Zone of Truth She’s too good of an investigator to really need it for interrogation, or believe it when she does use it for detective work. Zone of Truth, Jester believes, can only be truly relied on when paired with the sacrosanct tradition of Truth or Dare.

Locate Object Woooooow, so she was the only one not to get robbed, huh? Guess who is the most responsible person with money after all? Jester is always looking for things important to other people, whether it be lost coinpurses, seals, or those creepy cloven orbs that Fjord keeps sticking into his body. “Oh, he’s going to be so upset!” she despairs, when she can’t find it. But then she picks up where the key has gone, and lights up with joy. She looks for what’s important to others, before ever looking for what’s important to her (because once you stop stop looking it will hit you in the face)

Forgery Kit The pen is mightier than the sword! At nigh every stage of her adventure with the M9, it has been her immaculate paper trail that has enabled them to accomplish their goals and not end up rotting behind bars. Pulled off some amazing government reshuffling, too. I would fear her as a diplomat.

Caduceus

Caduceus has very set ideas about how the world works, but sometimes his lack of experience with the outside world causes him real problems. He isn’t worried, though.

Insight Check Caduceus is a person Fjord believes with some justification to be a kind of mind reader. He certainly has pretty god-like powers here, and he is both a benevolent god and just. He senses sugar off of you, he will bring you a veggie platter. He senses guilt, he will release you from prison against your will so you can face your wrongdoings in the world. Caduceus knows best--at least Caduceus thinks so.

Divination When Caduceus finds out you have family you’re searching for, he will invoke Melora’s aid to find out if they’re safe out there, or what direction they're headed in so you can save them. Caduceus, aren’t you wondering what happened to your own family? No, he’s not going to cast a spell for that, it’s best if he didn’t question…

Create Food and Water Above all else, Caduceus wants the people he cares about to be eating well. Do his non-vegetarian, pocket-bacon loving friends agree with him on what eating well is? Is the beanpole skinny-ass firbolg eating well himself? Ummmmm…

Nature Check he doesn’t know what that is or how it works, but it sure is pretty. When you think about it, everything is just more territory. Nature is nature no matter where you go. Sure, that man-eating seaweed seems a bit odd, as does the enormous murderous bird. But when you think about it, can you really be surprised by it?

Yasha

Yasha struggles a lot--with grief, with getting close to people. But in her strange, standoffish way, she is always there when it counts. And she’ll always be there, for her entire life and beyond. She has that kind of loyalty, that kind of drive.

Investigation Check She looks for flowers, and special things, in out of the way places, and keeps them in her book.

Strength Check These arms are worth a lot! A check tailor made for impressing people at circuses, winning arm wrestling competitions, and for chasing tail while saving your friends.

Dexterity Check You can shave your friend with your greatsword. That’s how you keep your legs so smooth and shiny, after all.

Necrotic Shroud It happened again.

#critical role #fjord #beauregard #caleb widogast #nott the brave #jester lavorre #caduceus clay #yasha nydoorin #the mighty nein #cr spoilers

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luckyjak · 5 years

Text

fic: Dunamancy

Essek teaches Caleb a spell that allows him to travel to various alternate realities: despite being warned not to cast the spell, Caleb does, and experiences three different timelines: one where Molly never died, one where Bren never broke, and one where he never left the asylum.

AU!Caleb/Molly, AU!Caleb/Astrid, somewhat Caleb/Essek.

A03 Link

Author’s notes: My working summary of this fic was: Caleb experiments with dunamancy, and Essek has to pull him back into his own time by the skin of his teeth. They talk about what Caleb experienced and then have sex. There's not actually any sex in this chapter, because I wanted to leave it ambiguous enough that people could come to their own conclusions, but I might add a chapter if I'm feeling brave and want to write it.trigger warnings: All of Caleb's backstory is just one big trigger warning.

Also: Apparently coffee is a thing in the Empire but it's mentioned so rarely that I thought I could get away with making it a Xhorasian delicacy. Forgive me for taking liberties with canon: it's just who I am as a person.

Things in italics are AU flashbacks.

The spell Caleb casts can be found on the A03 link.

All Zemnian comes from Google translate and is probably wrong. Most of the words you should be able to figure out by context, but there is one line that'd be a little difficult:

* You do not belong here. Why are you in my head? No, that is wrong. I know you

“Caleb. Caleb .”

He does not know how long he’s been sitting here for, or even how long he’s been on this plane of existence. His brain is fighting him, a constant stream of go away and staystaystay.

“Du gehörst nicht hierher. Warum bist du in meinem Kopf? Nein das ist falsch. Ich kenne Sie*.”

“I don’t speak Zemnian, and I’m not going to burn a spellslot to understand you. I burnt enough getting you back as is,” a voice he only partially recognizes echoes in his mind. “Mr. Clay, do you have anything to sedate him a little?”

No. No no no no no no, he cannot go to sleep, he won’t, he won’t, so he thrashes blindly, hits whatever he can to try and throw it off of him.

“Ow, for fuck’s sake Caleb stop hitting me you wily bastard--”

“Rest well, Mr. Caleb,” is the last thing he hears, and then he’s gone.

He doesn’t know how much time passes. But when he wakes up again, he’s sitting up straight in a chair at a table. It’s only when he looks up and sees the drow man sitting across from him, sipping a cup of tea and reading a book, that his senses come back to him. “Essek .”

(Two thoughts war with him after that. Crick, enemy, eliminat-- no. Friend. Ally. Teacher.)

“Caleb. Thank the Luxon,” Essek smiles at him, setting his teacup down and scooting closer. “You put up quite a fight at first. I had to get Beauregard and Mr. Clay to help calm you down. How do you feel?”

He touches his own lips experimentally, then scratched at the scruff on his chin. He didn’t have scruff, before. Or did he? “I’ve been better,” he confesses, his voice hoarse from disuse. “How long--?”

“You were gone for about an hour due to the spell,” Essek explains calmly, scooting his chair closer to Caleb. “You’ve been asleep for a little less than two since you got back.”

“Impossible,” Caleb feels his eyes widen, like he isn’t fully in control of them. “I was--I was gone for years . I--I lived for lifetimes. And you think I’ve only been gone an hour?” Essek nods, and Caleb feels a surge of paranoia swell within him. “How--how do you know I’m back? How do I know that this is my timeline? I could--I could still be traveling and be in yet another alternate universe. How do I know this is home?” He gestures around the basement of the Xhorhaus, his eyes scanning the walls to look for anything out of place. He doesn’t spend much time in the basement, and so he doesn’t know if anything is out of place or not.

“Ah, there’s that clever brain I was hoping you’d use,” Essek says. “Very well. I’ll tell you what I know about you in this timeline, and you tell me if that sounds like what you remember. You tell me if you can continue the story, just to make sure it all fits. If it doesn’t, we’ll try and figure out a way to get you home and get my Caleb back, okay?”

It wasn’t a bad idea. Caleb nods hesitantly. It could be a trap, but if it was, he couldn’t figure out how.

“Your name is Caleb Widogast. I’m under the impression that this may be a false name, but you’ve never told me an alternate, so Caleb is what I’ll call you for now if that’s alright with you. You travel with a group known as the Mighty Nein, which is ridiculous because there are only seven of you. Well. Six now, I suppose. The ones you travel with, their names are Fjord, Beau, Jester, Caduceus, Nott, and yourself. A few months ago, you brought something very important back to the Dynasty. Do you remember what it was?”

Caleb nods. It was exactly as he remembered. “The Luxon Beacon. We were declared Heroes of the Dynasty. You were assigned our guide. You--after we helped Professor Wacco, you brought us to our house. Then we went to the Bazzoxan, and then the Kiln. We lost Yasha, and we came back. Does that--is that right?”

His answer earns him a soft smile from the Shadowhand. “I’d say you are my Caleb alright, or at the very least, you are from a timeline that is close enough. Welcome back.”

Then Essek slapped him across the face.

It didn’t hurt, really. Essek was a wizard like Caleb; he didn’t have much physical strength. Still, it stung briefly, and left a red mark across his cheek. “What did I explicitly tell you not to do? ”

Caleb winces, rubbing his cheek. “Experiment with time magic.”

“And what did you immediately do?”

“...Experimented with time magic,” Caleb grimaces, less out of pain and more out of guilt. The drow had been very specific with his instructions, and Caleb hadn’t listened to any of it, too excited by the prospect of the spell--the highest level Caleb could cast and that Essek had ever taught him--to care much about the dangers.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous what you just did was? You have no idea the consequences, the ramifications, the disasters that can come about from reality jumping like that,” Essek slams his hands on the table, shaking his teacup.

“I wasn’t--it was fine --”

He wasn’t lying; it had been fine. He had had everything under control, until he hadn’t, anymore.

“And what would have happened if you had teleported to an alternate reality where you were already dead? Did you even think about that? Or what if you had ended up in a body where you couldn’t cast? How would you have gotten back then, hmm? I’ll tell you: you would have been trapped, forever , a prisoner of your own body and mind. It would have been torturous existence for as long as you could hold out. Worse yet, those of us here in this timeline would never know what happened to you. You’d just be gone. Do you really want to do that to your friends? Have them wake up one morning to you just being gone?”

He hangs his head down in shame. “Essek, I’m sorry. I didn’t think--”

“No, you didn’t.” The Shadowhand scoffs. “ No one reality jumps without express permission from the Bright Queen, and only in very specific circumstances. You could unmake reality as we know it. We can’t--we can’t risk something like that happening. You understand, don’t you?”

Caleb nods. “I won’t--I won’t do it again, Essek. I promise.”

“ Good,” The Shadowhand didn’t smile, but his eyes were a little lighter from across the table. “I’m already going to have to do a mountain of paperwork thanks to this little-- fiasco, as it were. And Caleb?”

“Ja.”

Essek’s gaze softens. “I won’t be able to save you, next time. If you cast this spell without permission, you will be executed upon return. There will not be a trial.”

“I understand.” Caleb stares ahead as Essek stands to retrieve another cup of tea, pouring one out for Caleb. His mind is--it’s not well, still fractured, still three separate lives jumbling around up there. There’s a quiet bang upstairs from where someone dropped something, and it takes him a moment to remember where and when he is, to think about who might be upstairs to drop something.

It’s quiet for a moment, just him and Essek and the tea, and Caleb is grateful for it, grateful for the silence as his mind races and roars, his thoughts fighting one another for dominance.

The quiet can only last for so long, however.

“How was it?” Essek asks, his voice still soft and quiet, so much so that Caleb barely hears him.

“How was--?”

“The alternate realities,” Essek replies, louder, and Caleb came to the sudden realization that Essek had only yelled at him because he felt like he had to; beneath the stern facade, the drow was practically beaming with excitement. “I’ve always found it fascinating myself. Mind you, I’ve only gone to two different realities, but they were so wildly different from one another. What about you? How many did you experience? Were they different from your life here, or were they mostly the same?”

“You’ve--you’ve traveled like this before?” Caleb asks, genuine in his curiosity. “What was it like? For you, I mean? What did you see?”

“I saw,” Essek pauses, carefully considering his words. “Two very different paths, for myself. One where I had become a priest of the Luxon like my sister, living a--quite frankly, a boring life, cloistered away at a monastery. And I saw one where my father didn’t die when I was still a child. It was--interesting. A different sort of grief,” he pauses, takes a moment to sip from his teacup. “And yourself?”

“I saw three, I think,” Caleb shakes his head. “They were--they were all different. Very different.”

Very different, and still in his head, still rolling about like they belong to someone else.

“Three! Well! Don’t be a tease, Caleb--tell me about them!” Essek smiles at him kindly, pouring another spoonful of sugar into his tea. “It helps, I think. It helped me when I--when I got back. It helps categorize the abundance of memories in your mind. Keeps them separate and defined as different experiences outside of your memories from this time. But you do not have to discuss it if you do not want to.”

“Does it help?”

“Lots of things help. But talking is a good starting point,” he sets his cup back down, and pulls out a quill and parchment. “Besides, I have to include it in my report.”

Caleb winces. “Everything?”

“I can be discreet about some things,” Essek admits, “I don’t have to tell all of your secrets to the Bright Queen. But I do need a general idea of what happened,” he taps the quill to the parchment, and ink begins to drip, an enchantment Caleb recognizes from--from a different life.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Caleb confesses.

“Start with the first timeline,” Essek tells him. “Try to think of it as a different measure of time, a different universe, even. It will help keep things from being so muddled in your mind.”

“The first timeline,” Caleb repeats, setting his teacup onto the table. He tries to focus on the first timeline, the first place he ended up at after he cast the spell. What to tell Essek about that timeline? It was the one closest to the life he lives now. “Did I ever tell you about Mollymauk?”

“The name doesn’t sound familiar, no.”

“Ah. So, before we were--back when we first. No,” Caleb shakes his head. “I’m telling this wrong. Mollymauk was one of us . A member of the Mighty Nein, back when we first got together. A purple tiefling with strange blood powers.”

“Interesting. Go on.”

“He died, protecting us. Protecting me, Nott, and Beau, actually. About six months ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Essek says sympathetically. “I’m guessing in this altered reality, he wasn’t dead then?”

Beau was dead instead.

That was the first thought he had when he woke up. It wasn’t his body--but it was close , close enough to feel familiar. It took minimum effort to have control over it, to move the limbs so he could stand. The other Caleb--the one whose body he was now in--he let him take it, didn’t fight him, didn’t have the strength to, his bones weary with grief.

The spell had worked, and it had brought him to a universe where Beau was dead, and Molly was not.

And Molly--

Molly was in the process of murdering Keg.

Do something , the other Caleb told him, voice sharp, and he forced himself to stand, to rush over to where Molly was threatening the dwarf woman.

“Hey, hey, stop--hurting Keg isn’t going to bring Beauregard back--”

“She lied to us!” Molly yells, screams , his rage absolute. There are tearstains on Molly’s cheeks, and his eyes are redder than normal. “She didn’t tell us how many there were, or how strong they were, and now Beau is dead and--”

He drops Keg and falls to his knees, grief overtaking him, and Caleb hugs him tightly from behind, letting the tiefling collapse in his arms. On the inside, Caleb’s mind is a myriad of emotions: grief--for Molly, who he’s holding, who he hasn’t seen or heard his voice for six months--and for Beau, who he just talked to moments ago, who isn’t dead in the world he’s from but she’s dead here and now, and that’s both better and worse. Anger at Lorenzo, at that fucking man who took someone he loved from him, again . Frustration at the thought that they were never going to face the Iron Shepards without burying a friend, no matter who it was.

So if he holds Molly tighter than he would have, six months ago, no one has to know but Caleb.

Another memory:

He’s alone on the Squall Eater, the ship’s gentle movements lulling him closer to sleep, and he’s content. The room is warm, Frumpkin is cozy next to his stomach, and the book he stole from Avantika’s office is actually quite interesting. It’s a perfect quiet little night, and that’s when he hears the knock on his door.

It’s Mollymauk.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his knapsack over his shoulder. “Do you mind if I bunk here with you and Nott? I won’t make much fuss; I’ll sleep on the floor if you want me to. It’s just that Fjord is really making some terrible decisions right now, and I guess I’m just not used to rooming alone, because the night is getting to me and--”

“Nott’s not here,” he says first, opening the door wider for Molly to come in. “She stayed the night in Jester’s room so Jester didn’t have to stay with Clarabelle.”

“Oh,” Molly says, sheepish. “So you’ve got a room to yourself, then? Kinky. That’s alright, I won’t interrupt, I’ll go see if Clara and Yasha mind having a third--”

“Molly,” he interrupts, calling him Molly and not Mr. Mollymauk. “Come inside.”

So he does, and that’s how Molly and Caleb become roommates from then on.

“You’ve been real sweet to me since Beau died,” Molly says, dropping his stuff on the other bunk but sitting besides Caleb on his bed. “I wanna say thank you for that,”

“You miss her,” Caleb guesses, as Molly leans back on the bunk so that his back is against the ship wall. “I do too.”

He does. He misses Beau so much sometimes that he forgets she’s still alive in his timeline, that this is all just borrowed moments he’s stolen from someone else.

“I do,” Molly laughs, but there are tears in his eyes. “I don’t know why. I hated her. She hated me. We had a fucked up relationship, and now she’s dead and I’m not and I don’t know why-- ”

They stay up most of the night, talking about Beau, and when they can’t talk about Beau anymore, they talk about everything else. They talk about the nightmares Molly suffers from, they talk about the guilt Caleb carries, even if they don’t talk about the source.

Molly sleeps in Caleb’s bunk with him. They don’t have sex that night but they do get used to sleeping next to one another, Molly wrapped around Caleb’s waist and clinging to him like he’s his lifeline, and Caleb clinging back, content with the company, with the physical contact, with the warmth.

Having Nott yell at him a second time isn’t any better than it was the first time, only instead of Caduceus picking him up off the floor, Molly does instead.

(“You’re not the problem here,” Caduceus tells him in his memory, even though wherever Caduceus is in this timeline, it’s so very far from here, “You’re the solution.”)

Instead, Mollymauk is angry on his behalf. “Fuck her. Who the fuck does she think she is?”

His stomach is still in knots, even outside the basement of the apothecary, in the smoldering remains above with just Molly beside him. “She’s--she’s not wrong, Molly, you don’t know what I’ve done--”

“I don’t care what you’ve done,” Molly repeats, and it’s something he’s said before, and how can he say that? How can he not care when it’s all Caleb can think about, most days. “She still shouldn’t have said that. Come on, let’s get you a new shirt.”

“Your name is Veth? My name is--was Bren Aldric Ermendrud,”

He doesn’t tell them everything, but he does tell them a little bit, and it feels a little like relief, even if they don’t know everything he’s been through, everything he’s done.

Later, when they are walking through the caverns, Molly pulls him back away from the others.

“You’re Caleb,” he tells him. “And I’m Molly. And Bren and Lucian can go fuck themselves, because we aren’t those people anymore, and we don’t owe them anything. Don’t--don’t forget that, okay?”

Caleb wants so badly to kiss him in that moment, and he cannot think of any reason not to.

So he does.

They do have sex in Xhorhas, though.

Not in the house they’ll own in a week. But in the tavern they are staying at, right after returning the Beacon. The are victorious: Yeza is safe, sharing a room with Nott down the hall. They are considered heroes of the dynasty. The handsome drow man, Essek, knows time magic, which is all Caleb has ever wanted to know in his life. They are celebrating.

Molly buys a bottle of wine that they share in their room, and they kiss and drink and fuck until the very early hours of the morning, and as they collapse on top of one another, Caleb thinks that he loves him.

He loves Molly.

Molly, who is dead, in his own timeline, who Caleb never once got to kiss or touch or fuck or love, and now never will.

“No, Beau died instead. In that timeline, she had sacrificed herself so that Molly, Nott, and I could get away, like Molly had in my own--in this timeline,” Caleb looks back down at the table, tracing arcane circles with his finger in the wood, trying not to think about the way Molly had felt, pressed against him. “I...I wasn’t super close with Mollymauk. He was my friend, but I was--I am a lot closer with Beauregard. But in that timeline, the one I was in, we--Molly and I got closer because of our grief. Molly and I became lovers, sort of by accident, I–I told him things I never told anyone. And now I have a head full of memories of being in love with Molly, and it’s not real. I’ve got to mourn Molly all over again now. And now when I think of him, I don’t think of my bright friend from the circus–I think of the man who made me smile even when everything seemed so goddamn shitty.” Caleb sniffs, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to cry.”

“It’s real,” Essek reassures him, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “You remember it, right? You have those memories, and you lived it, so it’s real. It might not have been this timeline, but it was real to you.” He squeezes his hand a second time. “Was that the only change in that timeline?”

“Oh, gods no.” Caleb laughs despite his tears. “No, we never met Caduceus in that timeline. Instead, we met his sister, Clarabelle, and she traveled with us instead. She’s a--a firecracker, that one. I know now why he named the moorbounder after her.”

“How long did you stay in that timeline?”

“Until right before we lost Yasha. I couldn’t--I did not want to see what Molly would do, losing his best friend like that. So I left, like a coward, and let the other Caleb have his life back.”

Essek is quiet for a moment, taking notes and letting Caleb compose himself. He’s grateful for the kindness, for the ability to just close his eyes for just a moment.

All he can see is Mollymauk.

“And timeline two?” Essek speaks again; Caleb doesn’t open his eyes.

“I was home. In Blumenthel, in the Zemni Fields where I grew up. I had a wife, two children, three cats, because my youngest found kittens in the neighbor’s barn and we weren’t about to get rid of any of them. Drove Astrid crazy because there was cat hair everywhere. Um,” he opens his eyes again, looking directly at Essek. “Astrid was my wife.”

“I assumed.”

“I grew up with her. I--I haven’t seen her in twelve years, but a few hours ago we had been married for ten. Time travel is maddening .”

That earns him a grin. “There’s a reason we don’t recommend it for newcomers.”

“I can see why. Um. We had two sons, two boys. Johann was the oldest boy--just like his mother--”

He wakes up with a start, the feel of small hands tugging at his wrists.

“Papa,” a small Zemnian voice whispers. “Papa, Milo went into Mr. Winston’s barn again. I told him not to but he didn’t listen.”

He groans, flings a hand over his eyes, squeezing them shut. He’s exhausted , mentally and physically, and he does not want to deal with this right now. The mission he just got back from had been brutal, and had used up most of his spells. He needs sleep. “Go tell your Mutti.”

“I did ,” The boy’s voice says. “She told me to get you. She said she was busy growing my baby schwester so you had to stop Milo from getting in trouble.”

Ugh. That was true, at least.

He opens his eyes, and Caleb sees Bren’s son for the first time. He’s mousey but tall, skinny for his age. He looks mostly like Astrid--he has her dark hair and eyes--but the freckles on his nose came from Bren, as did the nose itself, bigger than the rest of his face.

Caleb loves him immediately.

“Well,” Caleb/Bren says, sitting up in bed with a smile. “Let’s go get Milo out of Mr. Winston’s barn, then,”

“But Papa, there are kittens !”

There are indeed kittens, three of them, barely a few months old, and Milo is clutching the soft gray one like Bren might take it away from him at any moment.

Milo, with his orange hair and blue eyes, who looks like a shorter, stubbier version of Bren at that age, with bandages on his nose and his knees, who is going to be the reason Bren’s hair goes gray one day.

Despite tattling on his brother, Johann has the calico kitten wrapped in his arms, and is already whispering sweet words to her.

Which leaves the third kitten, an orange tabby who looks a lot like Caleb’s own Frumpkin, who mews at him to be picked up like her sisters.

Augh. Master Ikithon was right. Children have made him soft. He picks up soon-to-be-named Frumpkin and coos at her (him? Might be a him), then turns towards his boys. “We can go ask Mr. Winston if we can take them with us, and if he’s alright with it then we can. But you do not go into this barn again without permission, Milo Ulric Ermendrud, or you will no longer have a cat. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Papa!!!!” His legs are attacked by a four year old and a six year old at once, and Caleb cannot remember ever feeling this happy.

“Mama! Mama, we brought home kittens!”

“Mutti! I named mine Toby!”

“Toby is a dumb name! Mutti, mine is named Etta! Look Mutti, she’s gray and I love her.”

For being so small the boys are so very fast. Bren shuts the door behind him, Frumpkin on his shoulder, and rushes to catch up with his sons, who are currently attacking his wife in the kitchen.

Oh , Astrid is still beautiful, exactly the same as Caleb remembers, as she stands in the kitchen in the home they’ve made together, her attention divided by two rambunctious boys. She still looks mostly the same: same short dark hair, same bright eyes. More laugh lines on her face, but no less lovely, and her stomach is large and swollen with life.

Oh, Caleb loves her so. He does not want to ever leave this timeline.

“Boys,” Bren barks as the two shout over each other. “Leave your mother be.”

“But Papa!”

“Go find blankets for the kittens,” he instructs, and is met with whiny protest. “ Now ,” he repeats, and the two do as they are told, leaving Caleb alone to kiss his wife. “Guten morgen,” he tells her, and kisses her again, savoring the way she feels against him.

“Guten nachmittag, I think you mean, sleepyhead,” she teases him, pulling away but not leaving his embrace. She pets Frumpkin and coos at him. “I see our household has grown.”

“Ah. Mr. Winston was going to drown them,” he explains, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “I couldn’t let that happen. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all,” she takes Frumpkin from his shoulder and scratches under his chin. “But you are cleaning up after them.”

“Yes ma’am,” he jokes, wrapping his arm around her waist from behind, holding her close and kissing her cheek. “How is my lovely bride today?”

“Cranky. Your child kicks a lot.”

He wraps his hands around her waist and feels the gentle kick from the baby. “Don’t say such bad things about my tochter,” he chastises, and then kisses her again, because he can.

“Hmm. You are going to be so upset when it’s another boy,”

“No, I won’t.” Caleb says, and means it, overwhelmed by the love he feels for her, for their children, for their home.

He kisses her again fully on the mouth, savoring the way she feels against him. She’s not Mollymauk, but he did love her once, and it’s so easy to love her again, to love their home and their family, this perfect life that’s so different from the one Caleb is from.

“I almost forgot,” she says as she pulls away from him, “there’s a message for you, down in the basement.” He groans, leaning his forehead against hers. He only just got back! “Don’t fuss at me about it. I’d be perfectly happy to go on this mission for Master Ikithon, but someone ,” she elbows him gently in the stomach. “Insisted we needed a third child.”

“I want a little girl,” he groans, reluctantly pulling away from her. “Wulf is busy, I assume?”

“I presume,” she turns and kisses him again before placing Frumpkin back on his shoulders. “But look! This time you’ll have company on your mission, ja?”

He pets the orange kitten, and carries it with him to the basement, a scowl on his face. There’s a heavy bang above him, and he rubs his face with his hands. “Boys! No roughhousing!”

There may be a scowl on his face, but there’s a smile in his heart.

There is a teleportation circle in their basement, as well as a letter. It’s written in a code Caleb doesn’t understand, but Bren clearly does, because he rolls his eyes at it. “Duty calls, eh, Frumpkin?” he scruffs the cat’s head and smiles when it mews in response.

He goes through the teleportation circle without problem, and lands in forest outside of a small village. It’s dark here, wherever ‘here’ is, and the village below is quiet and quaint.

“At least it’s a small village this time,” Bren complains to Frumpkin, popping his fingers one by one. “Shouldn’t take too long, I don’t think.”

Before Caleb realizes what’s happening, Bren stoneshapes the earth around the village, creating great stone walls encompassing it.

No one could get in; no one could get out. That gets people’s attention: what was once a quiet place now has people out of their houses, inspecting the sudden walls surrounding them.

Then Bren casts fireball .

And he casts it again.

And again.

No , Caleb wants to scream, to stop, but can’t; unlike the other Caleb he has no control over Bren and what he does, just a passive observer of this time. No, no, no no, what are you doing? What are you doing? Stop this!

There are bodies burning. People are screaming, running, trying to escape the blaze but with the stone walls surrounding the village there is nowhere to go. Caleb can smell the scent of burning flesh and hair.

“They deserve it,” Bren says, outloud, to Frumpkin but also, somewhat unconsciously, to Caleb. “They’ve been hiding injured Crick soldiers, letting them recover and then letting them go instead of reporting them to the Crownsguard. They are traitors to the Empire, and this is what we do to traitors.”

He’s going to be sick. He’s going to vomit, spiritually, from inside this cruel man’s body. Look at what you are doing, Caleb tries to reason with him. There are children in this village! Children just like your own, and you are murdering them!

But Bren’s heart is cold and unyielding, too focused on the supposed good of the Empire to realize the horrible things he’s done, and Caleb cannot stand it any longer: he cast the dunamacy spell and leaves, fleeing like a coward once more.

“--Her dark eyes and hair, same scowl. But uh, my height, I think, and my nose. And he was so serious, boy never smiled, not even when he was a baby. Born with a frown on his face. And his little brother, Milo--Milo is always in trouble. Milo found the kittens, and Milo stole cookies out of the cookie jar, and Milo was the one who put a lizard in his brother’s bed. And, oh , Essek, I killed them. My babies, my boys, they don’t exist anymore, because I left ,”

Caleb had started crying again, and found he couldn’t stop. “First I killed Molly all over again by leaving that timeline, and now I’ve killed my babies?” He cradles his face into his hands. “I remember everything. The way Astrid looked on our wedding day. How small Johann was when they first put him in my arms. The way Molly’s hair looked in the sea breeze on the Mistake. It’s all in my head and I can’t–I can’t –

“They aren’t dead,” Essek assures him, reaching out for his hand once more. “They still exist in that timeline. Same goes for Mr. Mollymauk. Just because you are from this timeline doesn’t mean that those times stopped existing.”

“But their father is a monster ,” Caleb sobs, squeezing Essek’s hand back, enjoying how real and grounded the physical contact makes him feel. He did that--he squeezed Essek’s hand, made that choice, and it makes him feel more at home in his own body. “He--he killed all those people, and he didn’t care . He didn’t care at all, and when I was him I didn’t care, and what kind of monster does that make me, that I can leave them--m-my children, there with a father who--who loves them but is willing to kill them and I--”

He doesn’t realize that Essek has stood up and walked across the room to hug him until he feels his arms around him, holding him tightly. He collapses against him, getting snot and tears all over Essek’s tunic, but he doesn’t seem to mind: he doesn’t say anything at all, just holds him, solid muscle against Caleb’s face.

He doesn’t know how long he cries against Essek, but it’s long enough that he feels embarrassed about it when he pulls away. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, wiping his eyes. “I don’t know why you always have to see me at my worst.”

“If this is your worst, Widogast, you have nothing to worry about.” Essek reassures him, squeezing his shoulders tightly. “Do you need a few more minutes, or would you like to continue?”

He can’t imagine talking at the moment. “Give me a moment to use the restroom, wash my face,” Caleb pleads, wiping his tears on the sleeve of his shirt. “I’ll--I’ll be ready soon, I just--”

“Take your time,” Essek assures him, brushing him away. “I have nowhere else I need to be.”

In the time it takes Caleb to get back, Essek has made a fresh pot of tea, and is reviewing his notes when Caleb returns.

“Sorry about that,” Caleb apologizes again. He has taken the time to change his shirt, and despite everything that’s happened, he belated realizes that it’s only 4 o’clock in the afternoon. He’s exhausted, mentally, and yet he doubts he sleeps at all tonight. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me--”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Essek assures him, cutting off his apology. “When I traveled to the universe where my father was still alive, I had a breakdown afterwards that lasted four days,” he gestures for Caleb to sit, and when he does, he reaches out and squeezes his hand again. “You have nothing to apologize for. That spell--it’s fascinating, but it is exhausting, mentally and physically.”

“Why’d you teach it to me, then?”

“Because you suggested you were interested in learning dunamantic theory , and it’s a great theory spell,” Essek smiles softly. “Less favorable in practice, as you’ve no doubt realized.”

Caleb actually takes a sip of his tea. Essek must have refilled his cup, because it’s warm still. He doesn’t recognize the blend, only that it’s not one of Caduceus’s usuals, and tastes distinctly Xhorasian. It’s sharp and earthy and bitter; though Caleb finds he enjoys the taste of it, he isn’t surprised when Essek puts a spoonful of sugar into his own cup.

“Do you think you can talk about the third timeline yet, or do you need more time?”

Caleb downs the rest of his tea like it’s a shot, and shakes his head. “The third timeline is the easiest. I was still in the asylum.”

He woke up in the asylum, with another version of himself in his own head.

While the first Caleb had been perfectly content for him to take over, and the second had been willing to share, up until he hadn’t, this Caleb (or rather, Bren, broken, broken Bren) fights him tooth and nail every second he’s here.

“Why are you here?” He says out loud in the asylum. “Why are you in my head? This is my head. Get out of it.”

“I’m trying ,” he responds, shaking his head and arguing with himself. “But you’ve got to let me cast--”

“No magic!” The other Caleb screams, tearing at his clothing, claws against his face. “No magic, no magic, no no no no no--”

The guards come and sedate him, and when he wakes up he’s in a padded room, alone with just himself and the Other.

He doesn’t know how much time passes. Too much. Not enough. He can’t focus in here, sharing a mind with a version of himself that is still so far broken. Bren’s mind is a broken ball of glass, sharp and dangerous at every turn. They bring him meals, and he eats like a wild animal. The guards make small talk outside of his cell, but their words might as well be gibberish, for all that he can understand them.

One day, a priestess comes. She’s familiar to him, and beautiful, the symbol of the Archeheart dangling on her chest, and oh , she’s the one who fixed him, last time.

“Oh Bren,” she tells him, casting a spell to cure the wounds he’s made on his face and arms, trying desperately to dig out crystals that weren’t there. “You’ve made so much progress. I hate to see you relapse like this.”

Let me talk to her , Caleb begs the Other. Let me talk to her, she can help us get out of here!

But the Other is stubborn, and refuses, and so the lady merely sighs at him. “Perhaps one day we’ll try Greater Restoration on you again and see how you fair. If you can behave, of course.”

Cast it on me now , Caleb begs. I need to get out of here. I need to get home .

The Other doesn’t listen. The Other bites her hand instead.

“Another time, perhaps,” she sighs, and then she’s gone , and she’s taken Caleb’s hope with her.

Another day--he doesn’t know how long it is, can’t keep anything straight in this stupid broken brain of his--another day, Essek comes.

“Caleb,” he tells him, standing outside the cell door. The guard don’t seem able to see him, so maybe he’s not really there after all. Maybe he’s just Caleb’s own dream here to torment him. “I tracked your dunamantic signature to this timeline. Are you there?”

YES he screams, but the Other doesn’t answer. He just sits there, like he can’t see the drow in front of him. Yes, please help me!

Essek says something in Undercommon that sounds like a swear, and then he reaches through the bars and presses his thumb to the center of the Other’s forehead. “I’m going to take you with me, and if you aren’t my Caleb I promise you I’ll bring you back, but I’ve got to try,”

The Other attempts to bite him, but he just bites the air, unable to make contact with Essek’s incomporial form.

“--Then I woke up here, with you,” Caleb explains, feeling calmer and more rational than he has all evening. Essek was right: talking about it did help separate it in his mind. “And that’s all I remember.”

Essek scrawls something down on his notes, but otherwise leaves Caleb alone to his thoughts. He pours another cup of tea and downs it; he finds the more he drinks of it, the less he minds the bitterness of it, actually sort of enjoys the sharp taste.

Essek finishes his notes, and with a few arcane sigils in the air, sends his notes off somewhere else. He smiles warmly at Caleb. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” Caleb admits. “Not--not a hundred percent. But better.” He finishes another cup of tea. “I really like this tea you’ve made,”

“It’s coffee,” his companion explains, humor on his face. “It’s made from ground up beans from Southern Xhoras. I can’t believe you drink it black,”

“Am I not supposed to drink it black?” Caleb asks curiously. Coffee was good. He liked coffee. He would have to invest in these beans if they ever left Xhoras.

“You can, I suppose,” Essek laughs. “It’s just much better with cream and sugar. I’ll make another pot if you’d like,” he stands up and move towards the little stove in the corner. “Don’t be surprised if you find it hard to sleep tonight, though. It’s a stimulant. Helps keep you awake.”

“That’s alright. I doubt I could sleep anyway. I still feel too--too--”

“Like your body isn’t your own, and you are some impostor walking around in someone else’s meatsuit?” Essek guesses.

“Yes! Exactly that,” Caleb grins as Essek pours a scoop, two, three of what looks like dirt into the pot on the stove. “Speaking from experience?”

“Perhaps,” he sets the pot on to boil, then floats back to the table across from Caleb. “It’s a common feeling after reality jumping, I’m told.”

“Hmm. Any advice on how to fix it?”

“Sex, if you’ve got a willing partner,” Essek says plainly, without embarrassment, even if his words bring a small flush to Caleb’s cheeks. “Barring that, any sort of physical exertion helps. Running, walking, sweating--it helps make your body feel like your own again, instead of something you’ve borrowed.”

The pot on the stove boils; Essek floats over, turns the fire off, his back turned to Caleb.

Sex sounds lovely, if he’s being honest. Of the three altered realities he visited, two of them were getting laid a lot more often than he currently is. And he could--he could see the benefits, that Essek mentioned. The physical exertion, helping to make him exhausted enough to sleep. The choice and control over what he does with his body would help make it feel like his own again.

Alas, he lacks a partner in this timeline. But maybe--

He stares, longer than he intends, at Essek’s backside. He’s not wearing his long mantle like he usually does. Instead, he dresses simpler: a long tunic, leggings, boots. It’s simpler attire, but the material still looks expensive and fashionable. The leggings are tight on him, clinging to his form in the best way, but the tunic is too long, hides his most attractive features.

Molly would have wolf whistled at him.

Astrid would have laughed. “A crick, really, Bren? I suppose he is handsome, though.”

He shuts his eyes tight, then swirls the last bit of coffee around his cup. “Is that what you did?” Caleb asks curiously, deliberately not looking at Essek. “When you came back?”

“Yes. The one and only time I had sex with a woman,” he laughs, straining the liquid into the teapot. “She was a lovely girl, but not for me, I don’t think. It still helped.”

He feels his ears turning red. “You have, ah, different preferences?”

“Is this an interrogation, Widogast?” Essek grins, turning around with the teapot to set on the table.

“Nothing of the sort. More--trying to find common ground,” Caleb explains. “You know I was with Mollymauk, in the first timeline. I cannot judge you if you prefer men, because I also enjoy being with men, and--”

“I prefer men,” Essek interrupts him, an amused glit to his voice. “But I’m more curious about why you are asking, Widogast.”

He feels his face flush, and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t, ah, currently have a partner. I don’t suppose you are interested at all?”

Notes:

I left it there so you could have it open to interpretation. Does Essek accept? Does Caleb go upstairs to find Fjord/Caduceus/Jester and have fun with them instead? It's up to you. A choose your own adventure kind of ending.

#critical role #fanfiction #shadowgast #so long #widomauk #caleb x astrid

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me-myself-and-my-fos · 5 years

Text

Cold Graves Week Day 2: Lost

Pairing: Cold Graves

Summary: When the Knowing Mistress seems to have left Nic to her own devices, she finds comfort in Caduceus

Word count: 1,191

The pyramid-esque object that sat on the ground in front of Nicole taunted her. It taunted her with its secrets and mysteries and hidden knowledge. The magic radiating from this artifact was unlike anything she or Caleb had ever come across. The closest they’ve ever come to that power is the Dodecahedron or the “Ball of Happy Fun Tricks”. Both artifacts were still mysteries but at least the group knew how to work them. This object was a complete and utter mystery.

They had acquired it a few weeks prior during a simple festival. Many folks were selling their old junk and this artifact caught Nott’s eye with its shiny surface and gold shine. After a quick Detect Magic from Caleb and Nicole, the group quickly spent the three silver to procure said object in hopes of figuring out what exactly it did. While both the Zemnian and the Druid were experts on nearly everything magic, and knew more than the entire group combined, Nicole was always given the task of figuring out strange objects. She relied on her personal knowledge as well as anything the Knowing Mistress would tell her. And to say she relied on the Knowing Mistress was an understatement.

Nicole meditated and prayed to her every other day, and always praised her for any insight given to them. But these last few weeks Nicole has become irritated. She hadn’t been able to figure out what this artifact was, not even its name. And the Knowing Mistress wasn’t coming to her. Thus Nicole’s frustration grew with each day that passed.

The Nein had set up to camp in a nearby field, not too far from the road they were travelling back to Zadash. Nicole had immediately hopped off the cart, pyramid in her arms as she marched off to a spot far from the noise of Jester’s chatter or Beau’s crude jokes. She didn’t give any of them—not even Caduceus—a glance as they called out her name.

Fjord had sighed and muttered a “let her be” before going back to unpacking the cart.

Jester and Nott were worried about Nicole, and rightfully so. She had become almost obsessed with the pyramid, but only Caduceus knew how deep her troubles really rooted. He was the only one who knew how she would stay up nearly all night trying to figure it out, and the only one who knew what was truly bothering her. Nicole could claim it was the pyramid making her distraught and upset all she wanted, but he knew that all of her frustration was because she felt abandoned.

Now here she sat, near dusk in the bitter winter air that bothered her not while she glared at the object of her obsession, the bane of her existence. The way she stared at it, one would assume it grew autonomous and killed her whole family. Alas, it was simply a puzzle she had yet to solve.

“Your thoughts are very loud,” Caduceus stated as he sat down next to her, his legs outstretched on the brown, dying grass.

Nicole clenched her fist into a ball. “I’m frustrated.”

“I know.”

“Why can’t I figure this out?!” She exclaimed loudly, disrupting a few birds nearby. They squacked and flew away, Caduceus’ gaze following them. “What am I missing?”

“Nothing. You’re thinking too hard.” He said as though it was obvious.

Her glare snapped over to him but softened just as quickly, and she sighed. “I must be doing something wrong.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I did something wrong.”

“She hasn’t left you,” he stated. “She can’t give you the answers to everything.”

“But I’ve given her everything.” Tears pricked at her eyes. “I was loyal and obedient and trusting and–”

“And you relied too much.” He placed a hand gently on her shoulder. Her body trembled slightly as she held back a frustrated sob. “There’s no rush. Give yourself time. Give her time.” Caduceus stood, pressed a small kiss to her head and walked back over to the camp the party had set up hours ago.

Nicole took a deep breath and stared up at the orange-pink sky. She closed her eyes, legs crossed and hands placed softly on her knees. She took in a few more breaths, allowing herself to calm down and reflect on his words.

Nicole opened her eyes and she sat in a snowy field, the sky heavy and gray as snow slowly fell from the heavens onto the earth. It was serene and peaceful and felt like home—almost, actually. It almost felt like home. She blinked and before her stood an old woman, draped in dark clothing, the hood of a cloak pulled over her head, obscuring the view of most of her face.

Nicole knew her.

“Don’t be so troubled.” The Knowing Mistress said. Her words were whispers in Nicole’s ears, and for the first time in her life she felt a chill roll down her back. “Answers will come in due time. Patience is important.”

“I–I thought you left me.” Nicole murmured, too ashamed and too humbled to speak clearly.

The goddess chuckled. “I would never leave you. Like a bird, I felt it was time for you to leave the nest. You cannot rely on me forever.”

“So I have been told.”

“You have others that will guide you, and help you along the way. Learn to rely on them, but more importantly learn to rely on yourself. And don’t forget to cherish those closest to you.”

Another blink and the Knowing Mistress disappeared. Nicole felt something in her hand, and opened her palm. A small, pink flower laid in the center. When she looked up, the snowy field and dark sky was replaced with a warming sunrise and a field full of pink flowers. Nicole smiled. It felt like home.

She opened her eyes and realized it was dark. The once sunset-kissed sky was now dark, sparkling, and gentle. The only light source at the moment was the pinkish-purple glow from Caduceus’ staff as it sat between her and the Cleric himself.

“Oh good,” he smiled. “You’re back.”

“Back?” She raised a brow but doubted he would be able to see her expression in such low light. “I never left.”

“Okay.” He said in a tone that expressed he didn’t believe her. “You missed dinner,” he added, gesturing to the bowl of seasoned vegetables in front of her. “I didn’t want you to go to bed hungry.”

“Thank you, Flower.” She replied gently. Nicole tapped her fingers against her knees, mind wandering off to the Knowing Mistress. A small smile graced her features. “Is Jester still awake?”

“She’s on first watch.”

“I think it would be a good idea to put this artifact—” she pressed a hand to one side of the pyramid, “—in the haversack. I mean, there’s no rush right?”

Caduceus grinned. “You talked to her.”

“It felt more like she was… reminding me.” She smiled wider and leaned forward, kissing his cheek. “Thank you for everything and being patient with me. These last few weeks I’ve felt lost, but with you, I’ve found home.”

#foweek #cold graves #cold graves week #cleric bf #Self Insert #self shipping #self ship #self ship community #self shipping community #self insert community #self insert fic #mywriting

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angelsndragons · 3 years

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Okay, so, I have a lot of really complicated Ace!Caduceus feels, being an ace myself, so I am going to talk about them here. Warning, this is a rambling word vomit.

So, first of all, the fact that Caduceus is asexual isn’t surprising or unexpected in any manner. Lots and lots of us have latched onto him and claimed him as one of us for literal years. I first got into Critical Role around this time last year primarily because of him. He clicked with me in a way few others do and I clocked him as ace from the beginning. It’s weird to try to explain to allosexual people, what specifically about him made me go ‘yeah, definitely ace’ but it was there. In little things, the way that he listens but doesn’t see the point of smut or sex, in bigger things, the way he acts like any possible hint of being hit upon is a joke he doesn’t have the punchline for, in the biggest things, the way he interacts with his friends. It’s very tricky to try to explain.

When you’re ace, all the talk of sex and banging and how important it is and what it means to you just literally confuses the fuck out of you. That’s the best way I can put it; it’s like someone just breaks into Latin in the middle of a conversation. And you can learn all the key Latin roots and understand the concept of what they’re saying but that doesn’t change the fact that they are randomly speaking Latin in the middle of the conversation. That’s weird, man. And what’s weirder is they don’t even know they’re doing it! At all! In fact, most people you meet just randomly burst into Latin in the middle of a conversation. And because everyone else is, they don’t realize that you aren’t.

We aces saw Caduceus say, “that’s like five gold to fix that bodice” and went “oh thank god, someone who isn’t randomly bursting into Latin.” But others insisted that Caduceus did speak Latin at some point - and we’ll get to that- because everyone does. Or that if he didn’t, well, it’s because he’s “innocent” or “hasn’t learned how” or “oh, he’s just speaking Italian, it’s close enough.”

Here’s the thing that I don’t think has been talked about enough: that Taliesin had to make it 100% explicitly said, no ifs, ands, or buts, just to get not only the fandom at large but his own friends to understand what Caduceus’ deal is. He has been playing Caduceus as asexual this whole time, has been on multiple Talks with different cast members, and they, well informed, well meaning, educated people that they are, still didn’t get it. Look at everyone’s reactions to both Awaeda flirting with Caduceus and their reactions to Caduceus explaining that sex ‘isn’t my thing.’ Everyone but Liam and Matt was actively going ‘yeah, Caddy, get that’. Everyone. While every ace in the house was laughing at the sheer absurdity of the idea that Caduceus would be interested. And when Caduceus started explaining? There’s no clicking ‘oh, yeah, duh’ to be found, it’s all ‘huh, wow, really, that’s a thing? okay.’

This isn’t a dunk on Critical Role or the cast or whatever, so don’t you a-holes start anything. This is simply me trying to explain A) how monumental it is that we have an asexual character at all and B) that asexuality and its cousin aromanticism are still very much invisible orientations. This cast is fully comfortable with playing a wide range of queer characters and even they needed a quick primer.

So I get it. At the same time, words cannot express how happy and how frustrated I am that Taliesin had to go this far to get allo fans to listen. I know in my heart, being a scientific type, that absence of evidence does not mean evidence of absence and I try to be understanding. But then I think that we did have evidence of absence and it wasn’t enough for people and I get frustrated. Or I think about those people who were headcanoning Caduceus as ace because ‘he’s so innocent’ or ‘he just loves everyone equally’ and I remember that even well-meaning people still don’t get it and I wonder what the fuck it’s going to take to get it through people’s heads: asexuality and aromanticism aren’t tied to personality traits any more than any other sexuality or romantic orientation. They just aren’t. All they are is identifiers: this person does not experience sexual or romantic attraction 95% of the time. That’s literally it, that’s all those two words mean.

Which brings me to my next point: there is a hell of a lot of nuance involved with asexual and aromantic identities. I mean, a hell of a lot. I personally do not identify as aromantic even though I literally cannot tell you where the line between romantic, platonic, and at times even familial love is. Because, for me, physical actions are not at all coupled with any feeling of love. And because there is a lot of nuance regarding asexuality and aromanticism, do not be surprised if different people read Caduceus differently or write him differently with regards to his orientations.

I get that allos now want to be respectful of ace identities and I thank you for it but again, don’t expect any single way of writing Caduceus to be “correct” or “right.” There are so many grey areas in our identities and our lived experiences that I can’t be bothered to list them all. The only advice I can give on this front is, when you’re writing Caduceus, to remember that sexual attraction plays no part in his life. What does that look like? Again, that’s complicated because nuanced identity. My best advice is to look to canon: Caduceus indulges in the timed honored ace tradition of watching the soap operas around him while munching on a bag of popcorn. He doesn’t get what sex jokes directed at him have to do with him or anything important. He understands the physical concept of sex and why people do it but it is so far down the priority list it might as well not exist. He has very specific ways of showing individual characters he cares about them (gift-giving and compliments to Fjord, taking care of Beau, quiet conversations with Yasha, letting Jester vent and bounce off him, listening to Caleb and openly affirming Caleb’s best nature to him, letting Veth mother him). That’s what is important when writing asexual characters, no matter their specific type of asexuality or their relationship status: how they care for the people around them and show interest in them. When writing ships, ask yourself how the asexual character shows they care for that specific person and in what ways. That’s it, really, it’s that simple and that complicated.

TLDR: Caduceus has been ace this whole time, asexuality is complicated, and I cry happy tears at finally being validated.

#caduceus clay #cr spoilers #the mighty nein #c2e114 #asexuality #my meta

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sockablock · 3 years

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Chapter 11: Make Yourself at Home

“So, this is the place you were talking about, huh? I’m not going to lie, it’s much better than I expected.”

“Aw, thanks! It’s my momma’s cabin. She owns a bunch of places around here, but this is the closest one to school.”

“A bunch of places? What a lucky woman.”

“Wait ‘til you find out what else she owns.” Nott draped her coat over the nearest hook. “Lucky doesn’t even start to cover it.”

The rest of the gang filed in through the door.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Beau began with a grin, “I wouldn’t mind staying the night in a—"

“Anyway,” Fjord coughed into his hand. “Isn’t there something more important we should talk about?”

“That is right.” Caleb turned to Molly. “Namely, what it is we should do about…well, you.”

“Is that so?” Without looking back, their newest cabin-mate strode into the living room. He threw himself across Beau’s favorite chair. “Good luck with that, then. I’ll be here in the meantime.”

“In the meantime? What’s that supposed to mean?” Beau followed him in and made a mental vow to steal her seat back as soon as possible.

Molly waved his hand. “I was under the impression that your…angel would be taking care of things. That’s her new job, isn’t it? To mask me from bikers?”

“Only for now.” Yasha met his gaze with a stern frown. “I cannot look after you forever. I will not even be here for much longer.”

“Which would be our second problem,” Caleb sighed. Behind him, Jester—and for some reason, Caduceus—danced around looking for bedsheets and extra toothbrushes, the hallmarks of an excellent host.

“Right,” said Beau. “We sort of left off on a…I hate to say it, but sort of a dead end.”

“Really? Weren’t you working something out?” Nott asked. “What about all that stuff with the dictionary, Caleb? And those star charts?”

“Those are only a start,” he shrugged. “With our current level of information, it is not enough. Like I said…when was it now, yesterday?”

“It felt like years ago.” Fjord combed dirt out of his hair.

“Regardless,” Caleb continued, “we need more clues. Something. Anything. At this point I would even take subjective commentary. Like the way the sun felt. Or if there was much sun at all, Yasha.”

“You mean like if she was on the moon?” Nott asked.

“I mean like if there was a lot of shade. Like in a jungle.”

They turned to Yasha. She sighed.

“I’m not sure, I…” she squeezed her eyes shut, “…I think…yes, the sun. It…felt warm.”

When she opened her eyes, they were still staring. “Er….”

Caleb came to her rescue. “Okay, perhaps I should have been less literal. Sorry, Engel, but that was not very helpful.”

“Pajamas!” Jester spun back into the living room. Behind her, Caduceus was holding a tray of tea, topped off with a little jar of honey. “Here you are, Molly!” She leaned over the couch. “And let me say again, welcome to our house! Demon of not, I think you’re great. I’m excited to hang out with you some more!”

“Ah, you’re a darling,” he flashed her a smile. “I can already tell you’ll be my favorite. Although, perhaps, I think I’ll be better company once I’m clean. If you all are going to keep talking about…whatever important thing you’re talking about, I’d like to use this opportunity to shower.”

“Oh, yeah, here,” Fjord quickly stood up. “You can borrow my shampoo, the bathroom’s there—"

The two of them wandered off. Caduceus handed everyone else their mugs.

“Let’s keep going tomorrow,” Caleb said, trying on his most reassuring smile. “Who knows? We might find something after all. And with more time, Yasha, you might regain more memories.”

It was small, but Beau noticed Yasha skip past his gaze to stare deep into her cup.

“Maybe,” she said. “I hope so. Otherwise…”

“It’ll be okay,” Caduceus smiled. “In my experience, the best things come with time.”

— — —

Beauregard lingered by herself in the hallway outside their room. Currently, Jester and Fjord were giving a freshly-washed Molly the grand tour of the cabin while Caleb and Caduceus—with varying degrees of contribution—rearranged their room to accommodate him. And since Nott was calling her family in the living room, this would probably be Beau’s best chance to talk to Yasha alone.

She breathed in.

Nearly every conversation they’d had since the initial fall had ended in a tangled mess. Not to mention, Yasha’s situation had changed dramatically in the last few hours. On top of that, Beau was still roiling in guilt for lying to her all those days ago. It was very likely that neither of them would be in the right headspace for a heart-to-heart, and that wasn’t even taking into account how nauseous Beau felt at that very phrase—“heart-to-heart.”

Something else was poking at her too, something she’d had to shove aside earlier but now couldn’t shake away: it had been a while since she’d seen Yasha’s wings, but she knew for a fact that the first two times, they had been…well, they had been white—

And coupled with the fact that the angel only recently had started acting so anxious to leave, whereas before she’d been confused, but way more relaxed…

Beau breathed out and stared at the floor. Maybe it was time to stop wondering about what her own motivations were. Caleb, Fjord, and Jester had all made valid points, but truth be told, she was starting to get the sense that right now, how she felt wasn’t as important.

Still, the question did remain. What would she rather do?

“Yasha?” She tapped her knuckles on the doorframe. Sitting up, and dimly framed in moonlight, Yasha’s mighty silhouette turned.

Maybe she’d always known the answer.

“Beauregard. Hello. Is it time for bed?”

“No, uh…no, probably not for a while.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I think Jes is showing off her mom’s jewelry. Fjord tagged along—it’s probably to be polite, but also to make sure Molly won’t steal anything. They’ll be at that for an hour at best.”

“It is good for Fjord to be careful,” Yasha nodded. “Though I am more worried about your souls being stolen than jewelry.”

“Yeah, uh, that thought also crossed my mind.” She made her way inside. “I mean, I’m mostly…not worried at all, but—wait, should I be worried? Do you think that’ll happen?”

Yasha thought about it. “He already knows your names, which is…not great. But as long as you do not make any promises, I think you should be fine. Do not shake his hand. No matter what he says.”

“Really? Like…metaphorically?”

“Either. Both. Deals are bad.”

Beau sat down on the wooden dresser beside Yasha’s makeshift cot. Even at this angle, Yasha was still taller.

“You’ve said stuff like that before,” she remembered. “You told me that ‘your kind’ had been corrupted that way. Right? Because they dealt with us?”

“Sort of. There is less blame on you, it is…just that mortal souls are powerful.” Yasha ran her fingers through her hair. “Basically…the short version is that there are pieces of light that exist inside you, light from the very essence of our world. It fuels us, and it keeps us alive, but too much and it can drive us mad. We lose sight of everything else in pursuit of more and more and…more of that light.”

Beau let her words sink in. “Yikes.”

“Yes. That is why we have so many rules. Why demons are dangerous. Why I am risking so much by staying here.”

Beau tilted her head. “Do you feel mad?”

Yasha didn’t answer right away. And then Beau steeled herself, she said—

“Your, uh, wings—"

Yasha went still.

It would not have been hard to miss. But Beau had spent so much time together with her in the last few days that when her breathing stopped, her shoulders stiffened, her eyes affixed to the sheets—

“Shit, I-I’m sor—"

“You know what is happening then?”

Yasha’s voice was a quaver. Beau paused.

“I…really don’t know a lot about angel stuff,” she said slowly, “but I do remember what I…saw. And I know that it isn’t the same as what I saw the night you landed. And then…I started thinking about how panicked you were about ‘interfering,’ and…well.”

She avoided Yasha’s gaze. “It’s my fault, isn’t it? It’s because I convinced you to stay with me—with us. Instead of just letting you go.”

The silence lingered on. Beau bunched up the edge of her shirt and waited, dreading, the answer—

“…I don’t know.”

Her head shot up.

“You…what?”

“I, ah.” Yasha’s shoulders drooped. “I really do not know. Nothing like this has ever happened before. On the one hand, in all my visits to Earth, this is the first time that I ever talked to mortals. But…at the same time, I—I don’t actually think I’ve done anything to…to justify a fall.”

Beau opened her mouth. She closed it again.

“So…huh. Then that’s—you really don’t know.”

“No,” Yasha sighed. “Although, you should know that I do not think you could blame yourself in any case. I would not have stayed if a part of me did not want to, Beauregard.”

Beau actively worked to shut down her facial features. Her reply, a pitched, “Oh.”

“One thing is definitely certain, though,” huffed Yasha, unaware of the battle raging in Beau’s mind. “The longer that I remain on Earth, the…the worse things could become. My wings are not…all that good, but…I still have them. That means I am still an angel. That…I am still an angel.”

Beau nodded, and managed to re-focus. “Then…then I bet it’s alright,” she said. “I mean, you aren’t out of time. And you know how stubborn we all are, there’s no way we’ll give up now. We’ll make sure you find your way home. You’re one of us now, Yash, we’d do anything for you.”

Yasha’s mouth twitched. “Thank you, Beauregard.” It was a smile. “For everything. Really. I…can never express to you how grateful I am. How lucky I was to land in front of you.”

Beau’s eyes flew wide, and Yasha backpedaled. “I just mean—no—well, no, not no—I didn’t—that was—that is—all of you. Everyone. You and your friends. Are good people. I…thank you.”

“Well, hey,” Beau’s arm shifted as if to almost reach out, and then she thought better of it. “My friends are your friends too,” she said, quite awkwardly, instead. “You’re one of us. And we’re friends. We’re…all friend, here.”

“Right, er, right,” managed Yasha; it was getting hot in their room. “Yes. Exactly. We are friends. Uh—"

In a fit of absolute panic, she stuck out her hand. Amazingly, Beau took it.

Their hands shook. Neither of them looked.

“Th-thank you,” said Yasha, when they finally broke away. “Besides, um…you know, I’m not leaving yet. I still don’t’ know where I’m going. There’s also the, uh, the—Mollymauk. I do not want to fly him across the world with me.”

“Right,” said Beau. “Yeah, that’s…we…we’re all kind of following your lead on that one.” Then she hesitated, and when Yasha blinked back in confusion, Beau suddenly inhaled so sharply it almost hurt.

“Look, uh, look, there’s something I gotta say from a while ago—it was a, well, a—Yasha, I owe you an apology.”

A beat.

Yasha stared at her. “Me?”

“It’s…really dumb,” Beau blurted out. “Not that—no, not that—you weren’t dumb, I was, I did—I lied to you. Back then.”

If anything, she looked even more perplexed.

“You…did?”

“Sort of,” her eyes fell to the mattress. “I, uh…when you told me about auras, that one time, I…freaked out and told you a lie. I, uh…I don’t know if you’ve noticed at all, but I kind of like being…mysterious. God, no, not mysterious, it’s just…look, I was feeling conflicted about some stuff. Stuff that I wasn’t…ready to share. So when you told me that you could see my aura, I panicked. I told you it was shitty of you to do that, which…that was really shitty of me.”

“Oh,” said Yasha. “Is that…then, does that mean humans are okay with me reading them?”

“I’m pretty sure humans aren’t aware of it enough to actually have an opinion. The point is,” she sighed, “I lied to you. You had way more reason than I did to be confused, and upset, and…and just unsure. But when you reached out to, like, understand me, I pushed you away. I…don’t ever want to do that.”

She risked a glance up. “I’m sorry.”

And then, to her shock, Yasha nodded.

“It’s okay.”

Beau blinked. “It…is?”

“Er…yes,” said Yasha. “I think it is. You were just being protective of yourself. That is alright. Especially if you…were not ready to share things. And you did not mean to hurt me, yes?”

“Did I hurt you?”

Yasha considered this. “To be honest, um, no. You didn’t, not really. And if you did, then I forgot about it when Caleb told me I was missing 6,000 years of my memory.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Er…is that ‘yikes’?”

Maybe it was the relief, the sheer drop from such panic, or maybe it was the way Yasha’s eyebrows were bunching, but Beauregard could not keep herself from bursting out into laughter.

Yasha looked startled at first, but she recovered when Beau gave her a grin.

“You know what? I think it is time for bed.”

“What? Oh,” Yasha still looked puzzled, but she nodded. “Oh, er…sure. Yes. No problem.”

— — —

There was just one problem.

Jester groaned, pressing her face into her pillow. “I take it back. I take it all back. This is the worst thing in the world and we should call that circus right now.”

“Can’t,” muttered Nott. “Don’t have their numbers.”

“Maybe we can put up posters,” Beau suggested. “Let the evil bikers know where he is. They can have him.”

There was a rustle in the darkness. “Yasha,” said Nott, “are all demons like this?”

Another rustle followed. “Er…I have heard that the most fearsome demons plague their victims with visions of hellfire and ruin. But I think there are many ways to torment people.”

“Where the does not shutting up come in on that list?”

Yasha also had a pillow on her head. “The very top, I think.”

From the other side of the all-too-thin wall, a flood of music poured through. Fjord had made the crucial mistake of telling Molly to “make yourself at home,” and since Molly’s only home had been a crowded RV full of mostly-drunk carnies plunging down the highways of America at midnight, he’d said it was impossible for him to sleep without some “background noise.”

“Oh, sure,” Fjord had said. “Background noise should be fine.”

“He’s a guest,” sighed Jester. “We basically kidnapped him. I felt bad, and I didn’t think…I didn’t think he’d be like this.”

“Maybe someone will come to our rescue,” said Beau. “Maybe Caleb will finally snap and kill him.”

“Oh, if anyone would do it, it would be Caleb,” Nott agreed. “Fjord’s too weak. Or…maybe Cad, the quiet ones are always murderers.”

“It wouldn’t be murder,” Beau called sleepily. “It would be a civic duty.”

“Maybe we can plug our ears.” Yasha rolled over to look at the other girls. “Do any of you have some beeswax?”

The deep pause that followed would have been silence if not for the blaring—let’s have a party there’s a full moon in the sky, it’s the hour of the—

“I wanna die,” said Nott. “If he doesn’t, I will.”

“I can try to find some bees if I must,” Yasha pressed. “I feel guilty. I am the one who dragged him into your lives—"

She jumped when something brushed the side of her leg.

“We don’t need bees,” said Beau, who was slapping around the edge of her mattress, totally blind. “Here, I’ve got extra. Everyone, come get some. Earplugs. They’re not enough, but…helps.”

Yasha recovered quickly, reaching over to accept the little pieces of orange foam. There was some general shuffling and muted “thank yous” as Nott and Jester acquired pairs as well.

“Nice,” said Beau, rolling over on the floor. “Adds a pop to your monochrome.”

Yasha couldn’t tell whether that was addressed to her. But when it seemed clear that Beau had just passed out again, she carefully pressed the earplugs in. Then she sat there a moment longer, staring at her leg, surrounded by the muted blare of a hundred trumpets.

Off in the distance and dulled, Nott said, “I’m gonna go threaten to cut his head off.”

— — —

And then, eventually, there was quiet.

— — —

See:

Not…not a storm at all. Not even a lingering cloud.

Instead, there is just the blue and endless sky.

Somewhere, she is…lying down. The sun is warm. She is…somewhere. She is somewhere where a field of green-turning-gold-turning-russet wild grasses ripple slow.

There’s a gentle brush against her leg. She looks down. It’s a little white flower.

It’s…it’s being held in…someone’s hand.

Her head jerks up.

“Wait, who are y—"

— — —

Her eyes focused on a face.

“Huh?” said Beauregard. “Was that for me?”

Yasha sat up so quickly that Beau had to jump backwards. “Whoa, there—"

Yasha ignored this, whipped her head around, took in two unmade bunks, a mess of blankets, golden sunlight—

The curtains by the window rippled slow.

“I…but…”

“Yasha?” Beau frowned. “Hey, Yash, is everything okay?”

“But I…there was…” Her hands dug into the sides of her face as she squeezed her eyes shut. “There was…a field,” she bit out. “Grass. Under the sky, and a flower, and a p—"

She froze.

“Uh…Yasha?”

A…person. There had been a person. Someone—but who? It was someone…important…

And then the thought—no one can know.

“N-nothing,” Yasha blurted, though she didn’t quite know why. “It was…it was nothing. Er…but there might be something more I have for Caleb to work with.”

Beau’s concerned expression vanished. “Oh, what? Oh—hey, that’s awesome!” She closed the distance, even went to clap Yasha on the back. “That’s great! He’s gonna be totally thrilled! And that’s one step closer to you getting to…go. Oh.”

They both fell silent. Through the door, the clattering sounds of the rest setting a table.

Beau’s hand fell back to her side.

“Of course, we always knew you were gonna leave at some point. And…you know, you were ready to bolt, like, two days ago, so it stands to reason that you…should be happy to leave…”

Yasha looked up at Beauregard.

A person. Someone important…

“Beau, um…Beau, I think I—"

The door burst open. Nott shoved her head in, eyebrows raised.

“God, what’s taking you two so long? Cad made pancakes! C’mon, we’re waiting!”

— — —

A thick slab of blueberry-laden goodness landed in the center of Yasha’s plate. A sweet, buttery, slightly tart aroma wafted through the kitchen.

“So, I think I still have a bit more catching-up to do, don’t I?” said Molly, who was sitting in a chair with a slouch so bad it looked like his spine was broken. “For one, it seems like I’ve missed the book club meeting that made you all friends.”

“We met in college,” said Fjord, rubbing his eyes. “Not a book club.”

“Same difference,” Molly shrugged. “It’s just that I can’t help but feel a tad bit excluded from your pre-existing lovefest.”

“It would be easier to include you if you knew how to be quiet sometimes,” Nott grumbled.

He stuck his tongue out, and it was stained with blueberry.

“I think we are overdue for a proper meeting anyway,” said Caleb, spearing his pancake. “A lot has changed in the last twenty-four hours. We should review our goals and priorities.”

“Get home,” said Yasha. “Do that by finding ȣɿɕƺᶋɷ.”

“What the hell,” said Molly.

“Later,” Caleb sighed. “Right, okay, that’s item one on our list, our continuing mission to find Iothia. And once we do…?”

Yasha shuffled. It was quick, almost missed, but she glanced at Beau.

“Er…then I…leave,” she said. “I fly there, and I can return home.”

“Aw, really?” Jester pouted. “You’re really just going to leave right away?”

If anything, Yasha’s next expression was even more complicated. She fidgeted again. “I, er, sort of…sort of have to. As…quickly as possible, I think.”

“Man, that sucks.”

Yasha managed a tiny smile. “I know.”

“But you can’t go until you’ve taught me repression,” Molly said, quickly waving his fork for attention. “I need to get back to my circus, my dear. And I can’t do that safely until I learn to hide.”

“Which means you’ll be sticking around a little longer, Yasha.” Caduceus down the plate of pancakes and took a seat. “Isn’t that nice?”

“And you’ll be hanging out with me,” Molly grinned. “I expect we’ll get to know each other very well.”

A loud thump shook the table and everyone’s heads suddenly turned to Beauregard.

She blinked. Then she looked down.

“Shit, uh…sorry. I think I missed my plate.”

“Jesus christ,” said Fjord. “That’s an inch into solid wood.”

Beau gripped the handle of the knife she’d sunk into the table. On the second try, she managed to yank it free.

“Sorry, uh…sorry again,” she said. “Jes, your mom can bill my dad.”

“Are both of you rich girls?” Molly asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” she shot him a deep scowl. “You just worry about…about learning to shut up your aura, or whatever. Then Yasha can get on with stuff that’s actually important, and you can finally leave us all alone.”

“My, my, someone’s touchy, isn’t she?” Molly folded his hands over his lap. “Anger issues are bad for your health.”

“You know what else is bad for my health, asshole? Not being able to fucking sleep ‘cause someone needs a rock concert every night—"

“Okay, okay, okay,” said Fjord, holding his hands up so fast he almost knocked over the milk. “Alright, I think that’s enough, you two. Molly found headphones eventually, right? And now he knows better.”

“What am I, a child—"

“And we’ve got to be a little more understanding of a man who’s just had their whole life turned around. It’s not every day we find out we’re not even human.”

“Not a man either,” Molly added.

“Ah, sorry—"

“It’s alright, dear.” He sighed. Then, with a swoop of what could only be described as exaggerated magnanimity, he turned to Beauregard.

“Truce? Not surrender, just armistice.”

She rolled her eyes, but did concede. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Back to the matter at hand, then,” said Caleb, as that piece of breakfast theater concluded. “Yasha. Even though your sense memory from last night was…for lack of a better term, undescriptive, it gave me the idea that we could perhaps try to use images of natural places to trigger more. Jester’s mother has a number of picture atlases in the study, after all. Perhaps we could start there today.”

Yasha lowered her fork. “Actually…while I was asleep, I remembered something more.”

This was followed by a chorus of clattering and hurried exclamations, the loudest being Nott’s, “What, really?!”

“Er…yes, but it was very small,” Yasha said. “I…remembered lying down. In a field of golden grass. And, um…there was a flower. It was, um, white.”

“Is that all?” Caleb said after a while.

She hesitated.

Then, “Yes.”

“Well, that’s not too bad,” said Caduceus. “It might even be a great, actually. Most flowers only grow in specific climates anyway, and if we’re lucky, it might only be native to a certain area.”

“Ooooh, oh! What did it look like?” Jester asked. Then her eyes lit up. “Oh—Yasha, you should draw it!”

She jumped out of her chair and was running back from the living room with her sketchbook before they even processed this.

“And you’re getting so much better at art too,” she squealed, “this’ll be great practice—"

“Jester, are you sure—"

She pushed Yasha’s plate aside and handed her a pencil triumphantly. “Close your eyes! Picture it! Then draw!”

Even Caleb seemed reluctant to argue with Jester. He shrugged and said, “But also please describe it to us, please.”

Yasha put her fork down. She took the pencil.

“I’m really not good,” she said, weakly, but she did her best to envision the flower. “Okay, um, it was small…very small, and it had seven little points like this…”

A moment later, everyone leaned in to see the drawing.

“Aw, it’s so pretty!” Jester beamed. “Good job!”

“Ah—thank you.”

“Any idea what it is?” Fjord glanced at Caduceus. “Have you seen this before?”

Cad scratched his chin. “I can’t say I have, but…it shouldn’t be that hard to find. You said it’s white?”

“And small,” Yasha added. “As big as someone’s—someone’s fingernail.”

“My momma has tons of books on flowers,” Jester supplied. “Maybe those can help?”

“I’m sure they will. And Caduceus is right,” Caleb added, “this is an excellent jumping-off point. If we have this drawing too, Yasha, I can take over from here. That will give you time to help train our newest...divine associate.”

“You don’t have to lay on the flattery that thick,” Molly smiled. “Though I appreciate the compliment.”

“I meant that literally.”

“Why, thank you—"

“I can help you too.” Beau was determined to silence Mollymauk quickly. “Again, it’s not like I’m doing much anyway. At least this time there’ll be pictures, right?”

“Are you sure?” Yasha leaned backwards. “If you don’t want to—"

“No, no, really. I’ve told you, Yash, and I’ll say it again, I really don’t mind any of this. I want to do this. And you can’t stop me.”

Yasha met her gaze, then nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Exactly,” said Beau, and raised her chin in a display of satisfaction. Then she hesitated, turned towards the rest. “But if the rest of you don’t feel like helping, I mean…I’m a deadbeat, but Fjord, you’re supposed to be reading for a summer class. And Nott, you’ve got stuff for your job, right? And Jes—"

“How about we clear up the living room and do what we need to do together?” Fjord asked. “Solidarity. It’ll be like…like study hall!”

“I’m game!” said Nott. “As much as it sucks, I should probably get on that.”

“Me too,” Jester clapped her hands. “It’s not as fun as fishing or introducing Yasha to fries, but studying won’t be so bad if we’re all together!”

Molly stared at her incredulously. “Are you—really?” He turned to the rest, aghast. “You’re all really going to sit down and do…do work? Willingly? Nevermind, this is much worse than a book club.”

He leaned over and nudged Yasha in the shoulder. “My goodness, aren’t we lucky to be divine? I’d rather do anything than, ugh, read.”

—

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luckyjak · 5 years

Text

fic: Declaration of Intent (1/5)

“Then it’s settled,” Caleb beamed, pleased with his own cleverness. “We’ve got to find you a husband, before your mother finds you a wife.”

Essik has a problem; Caleb has a solution. Both of them are so good at pretending that their hearts may never recover.

[The Caleb-and-Essik-Fake-Dating/Fake-Engaged-fic you didn’t know you wanted. Shadowgast. Canon-compliant as of episode 63 but probably won't be for long.]

a/n: This is like, the opposite of a slow burn. This is a fast burn: two characters who get together way too quickly and are way too intimate with each before their feelings can catch up.

The rating may also go up as the story progresses, but I don't want to promise something and not follow through on it.

AO3 Link

There was something wrong with the Shadowhand.

It was subtle; from the outside, the man was as composed and as polished as ever. But Caleb had been spending a lot of time with him, and Caleb was nothing if not observant. He was sharper, more critical than Caleb had ever known Essik to be, and while practicing dunamancy was normally one of Caleb’s favorite activities, the afternoon had made it something of a chore. It was in the way Essik moved: his spellwork was...strained, and his concentration waned. He was irritable, and nothing Caleb could do seemed to help ease the irritability, no matter how flawlessly and fast Caleb learned. They had been at this particular spell for hours, and it was beginning to become a problem that would reach a boiling point soon.

“No no no, you are doing it wrong!” Essik snapped, for the fourth time this afternoon. He ran one hand through his cropped hair and the other along the spellbook, tracing arcane ruins with long fingers. “The pronunciation is el-sol-la-de , not el-sal-la-de , you--”

Caleb snapped back. “I would have done that if you said so earlier instead of just handing me a book written in Undercommon and expecting me to just 'figure it out'--”

“I don’t expect you to just figure it out, I expect you to use your brilliantly gifted mind and--” Essik stopped mid-sentence and rubbed his face with his hand, his eyes scrunched shut. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “I’m sorry. I am being unkind.”

You think? Caleb thought, but didn’t say out loud. Instead, he merely nodded in agreement; Essik had been uncharacteristically unkind towards him all afternoon.

“Perhaps we should take a break. I’ve been pushing you hard, and it’s not your fault. Dunamancy is a difficult school of magic to learn even on the best days, and we’ve been going at it for hours now,” The gentleman moved to sit down on the couch in the library/lab, and he gestured for Caleb to follow.

They sat together in quiet stillness for a moment; Essik stared out of the window, lost in his own thoughts, and Caleb stared at Essik. The other man was tired, Caleb realized, and clearly stressed about something, but what the young wizard couldn’t hazard to guess.

“You have been off all day,” Caleb broke the silence, sitting down next to the drow on the opposite end of the couch. “Is everything alright?”

Essik brushed him off immediately. “It is a personal matter. I should not allow it to interfere with my work.”

“What bothers you so?” Caleb tried again, his curiosity peaked. It wasn’t often that he saw the Shadowhand as raddled as much as he was. Essik stopped, his face scrunched in hesitation, which made Caleb wince in sympathy. “If it’s too personal, you do not have to--”

“No,” the drow shook his head. “I should talk to someone about it. And you are a neutral party, from a different culture. Perhaps you could advise me in ways others could not.”

Caleb bowed his head slightly. “I’ll do my best.”

“Right. I, uh,” the Shadowhand stumbled with his words uncharacteristically, stilling looking not at Caleb but at the dark window, as if it might hold the answer he was looking for. “I’m getting married.”

Oh . That was unexpected. “Congratulations?” He said, hesitantly. The thought of Essik getting married was...unanticipated.

Of course Essik would be getting married, Caleb thought with uneasy queasiness. He was a powerful, beautiful young man, with an important career and a lot of political influence. Of course he would have caught the attention of someone special, somebody young and beautiful, somebody not at all like Caleb.

“It is not my choice,” Essik bit his lip, turning his attention away from the window and looking at Caleb’s face once more. “You know I am--young, right? Not compared to you and your kind, but in elvish terms I am barely grown,” Caleb nodded in agreement. It was difficult to comprehend 200 years old as a young person, but when a species lived to be in the thousands, it was easier to acknowledge. “I’ve accomplished a lot in my short life, which is made even more impressive given that my soul is not consecrated, and this is only my first life. But, ah, my amille , my mother, she, ah, thinks I need to wed. For the good of House Theylas.” The drow shook his head in disagreement. “She’s arranged for me to meet with and betrothed myself to a young woman from Den Olios, and I--I do not wish to.”

“Because you do not like this young woman?” Caleb venture a guess.

“Because I do not like any women,” Essik’s face flushed a darker purple, and he hid his face in his hands. “For a woman who has lived 800 years and three separate lifetimes, you’d think my mother would understand that!”

“Ah,” Caleb winced in sympathy. “Admittedly, I still do not know much about your culture. Is such a thing frowned upon?”

He wanted to ask Essik, since he apparently didn’t like women, if preferred the company of men, but he didn’t want to assume. For all Caleb knew, the Shadowhand was like Caduceus, and didn’t want to be with anyone, no matter their gender. A small part of Caleb--a part he didn’t like to acknowledge--rather hoped that the Shadowhand did prefer men.

Men like Caleb, even, although that part remained wisely unsaid.

He also wondered if Essik’s face would always be such a delightful shade of dark purple. “It’s not frowned upon. Ah, we are a reincarnation society, right? So sometimes a pair of veru come back the same gender as before, or different. My father, he was a man when he married my mother, but when he was reborn he came back as a woman. She and my mother are no longer together, because they never vowed atemay , but they could be together if they wanted to, yes? It doesn’t matter that they are both women.”

Caleb cocked an eyebrow. “But it matters that you don’t wish to marry a woman?”

Essik sighed. “It--it does. It’s--it’s important for there to be children, yes? Especially in powerful dens, there needs to be heirs, because we reincarnate. Because I am the highest ranking member of my family, I’m considered Den Theylas’s heir, despite being my mother’s youngest child.”

It was starting to make sense to Caleb. “Because you are the Shadowhand.”

“Because I am the Shadowhand,” Essik repeated with a groan, leaning over to place his head in his hands. “I could--I could solve everything if I just stopped being the Shadowhand. My sister Meela would be my mother’s heir then, and Meela is already married with two children.”

That sounded like a terrible solution to Caleb. “But you don’t want to stop being the Shadowhand.”

“I love my job,” Essik agreed, with a pained expression. “What I do is important, to the Dynasty, to the Bright Queen, and to the study of dunamancy. I would hate to leave it.”

The thought was curious, however. “What would you do then, if you weren’t the Shadowhand?”

“I don’t know,” Essik answered honestly. “It wouldn’t be this, though,” he gestured around the room to where he and Caleb had spent most of the afternoon training and studying. A lump began to form in the back of Caleb’s throat at the thought of what Essik was implying: if Essik was no longer the Shadowhand, he would not be the person assigned to watch over and guide the Mighty Nein. Someone else would take his place.

Caleb tried to imagine somebody else in Essik’s role as their guide. In his mind, he pictured someone who would be less kind to their diverse group of adventurers. Someone who might have a problem with the fact that they planted a giant tree on the roof, or someone who would take issue with the fact that Caleb and Beau were humans. Someone who wouldn’t teach him dunamancy, and someone who wouldn’t be nearly as amused as Essik often was at their antics.

Someone less attractive, almost certainly, and that was reason enough for Caleb to protest. “Well, we cannot have that, then.”

“But I don’t know what else to do ,” Essik sighed, his head hung down low. “My mother is the Den Mother for all of Den Theylas. She’s an incredibly powerful Warlock and an uncanny politician. More importantly, she’s very good at getting what she wants, and she’s been trying to arrange a marriage for me for years. I’ve outsmarted her before, but I don’t know...I don’t know how to get out of it, this time.”

Caleb leaned over closer to Essik, so that his knee was barely brushing against Essik’s. “Is there anyone else you could get help from? Would the Bright Queen assist you in any way, if you appealed to her? You serve on her Council--surely that must account for something.”

“The Bright Queen and my mother have been friends since before I was born,” Essik shook his head. “If I went to her with this, she would side with my mother, and then I’d really have no hope. The Bright Queen’s word is law.”

“Could you suggest an alternate partner? Maybe the young lady from Den Olias has a brother?”

“She doesn’t, I’ve already looked. And if my mother is the one doing the arranging, then all she will care about is me having an heirs,” Essik rubbed his wrist with concern. “Which means a--a lady, a wife.”

“Which you don’t want.”

“I prefer men,” Essik confessed, and Caleb stomach flipped a bit happily. He had assumed, given Essik’s dilemma, but it was still nice to know he and the Shadowhand had that in common. “Sexually. Romantically. I don’t dislike women. But I cannot imagine myself ever being in a relationship with one. At least happily.”

It was a shame, too, because Essik was quite handsome, in Caleb’s opinion. It would be a terrible waste: Essik, with his beautiful smile and sharp chin, trapped in a loveless marriage, forced to spend--however obscenely long it was that drow lived for--with a woman he didn’t know and didn’t love.

At least if the girl in question were human, he’d only have to wait less than a tenth of his lifespan.

Oh.

A surge of brilliance struck through Caleb as an idea slowly began to take form. “What if you were already promised to another?”

That caught Essik’s attention. “How do you mean?”

“Could your mother marry you off if you were already engaged to someone else?” Caleb asked, his knees brushing against Essik’s on the couch.

Essik paused, his mouth frowning. “No--I, no, she couldn’t. Don’t get me wrong, polyamory is a thing here,” Good to know. “But once a bond has been established, no one outside of the bond can decide to extend it, no matter how much influence they may have.”

“Then it’s settled,” Caleb beamed, pleased with his own cleverness. “We’ve got to find you a husband, before your mother finds you a wife.”

Essik smiled at him softly, but it was not the overjoyed ‘ah, Caleb, you are so terribly brilliant’ smile Caleb had hoped it would be. “I wish it were that simple,” Essik shook his head. “But my mother is crafty . She will want to interrogate whoever I’ve chosen to marry, and she would have to approve of the match in order for it to go through. And I have,” he looked outside of the window at the dark day out there, “very little time to find someone.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow at Essik. “Would your mother ever accept a human?”

“You can’t be serious,” Essik breathed, catching on with the finer, unsaid aspects of Caleb’s plan.

“Why not?” Caleb shrugged. “We work well together. Better yet, we can convince the rest of the Nein to collaborate with our story. No one will argue too much with the Heroes of the Dynasty, no?” The red head leaned back on the couch, stretching slightly. “I have no other prospects for the moment. And I live a much shorter lifespan than you.”

“You are serious,” Essik’s eyes grew impossibly wider. “Widogast, that’s insane.”

“Why?”

“ Why? Lots of reasons!” The drow exclaimed, jumping up from the couch so he could pace the room. “We barely know each other! We’re--we’re from different worlds , two different countries, different cultures, different races--we can’t--we couldn’t possibly convince my mother that we were lovers, much less engaged! I’ve known you less than a month!”

“People do crazy things all the time, especially when they are in love,” Caleb smirked at his teacher. “Haven’t you ever been in love before?”

The Shadowhand turned to glare at him with his arms crossed. “I’m a little less than two hundred years old. What do you think?”

Caleb thought a lot of different things, and could have said as much, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood up and walked closer towards Essik. “It’s just a con, you know? Just a bunch of lies told together, to tell a semi-plausible story.” He stepped even closer towards Essik, until the two of them were face to face. It might’ve just been the atmosphere of their conversation, but Caleb felt taller than Essik for once. “You mean to tell me that you, Essik Theylas, Shadowhand of the Bright Queen, spymaster of the Dynasty, have problems lying?”

Essik flung his arms apart, poking Caleb in the chest. “It’s not my ability to lie that concerns me, Widogast. It’s yours .”

Caleb couldn’t help but chuckle. “Believe it or not, Shadowhand, but I’m quite an experienced con-artist. Nott and I used to run a con similar to this back before we joined up with the rest of the Nein, actually.”

Essik raised an eyebrow. “You and the little goblin girl used to pretend to be married for an extensive period of time?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly the same,” Caleb blushed, stretching the back of his head. “ I--I, uh, pretended to be her father, actually.”

“Ah. And how did that go?” Essik looked a little impressed, though still a bit skeptical.

“It worked, for a while. Better in some towns than others. Made a decent amount of money at it. Kept us fed and dry. Certainly worked longer than this particular con would need to.”

Essik shook his head, turning away from Caleb and staring down at his feet. For a moment, Caleb had the strangest thought that the man was about to leave , just walk out of the Xhorhouse and never come back. But he didn’t. Instead, he turned back to face Caleb, his expression cold and methodical, as if their conversation was a game, and he needed to think 2000 steps ahead of Caleb in order to win.

“And what, exactly, do you get out of this, Caleb Widogast? I doubt you are willing to help me this much out of the kindness of your heart.”

Caleb shrugged. “I figure the Shadowhand of the Dynasty owing me a favor is a good thing to have.”

“None of that,” Essik snapped, stepping closer to Caleb. “I don’t play those games. Be specific about what you want, or stop wasting my time.”

Damn . Caleb had hoped to get by with a favor. A favor could be anything; a favor was negotiable, depending upon what the party in question was asking for.

Well, he’d just have to make due, then. He stepped closer to Essik, until the two gentlemen were face to face, merely breaths apart. “I figure as your husband, I might have access to your spellbook,” Caleb breathed, his face inches from Essik’s own. “You know. What’s mine is yours and all that.”

“Absolutely not,” Essik’s face flushed with what was quickly becoming Caleb’s favorite shade of dark purple. “I have some very powerful, very confidential spells--I could never just give you my spellbook.”

“But you could let me look at the rest,” Caleb gave a counteroffer. “Hide the confidential parts, and let me study at my leisure.”

The drow took a step back away from him, lost in his own thoughts. Caleb could tell he was considering the idea, and he tried not the get too giddy at the prospect.

Conversing with Essik like this was...exhilarating, in a way nothing in his life had been since he had been at the Academy. He had missed this, he realized suddenly. Verbally sparring with someone of equal intelligence was a game he had forgotten he missed.

It reminded him of how he used to talk with Astrid, actually. But that was a thought to analyze at a different time.

“Or you could get married,” Caleb teased, perhaps a bit mean, his thoughts returning from his former flame. He turned away from Essik, running his hand along the table in the center of the room, taking his time as he spoke. He could be terribly patient when he needed to. “You know, if the lady from Den Olios looks anything like the Den Mother Zethris, she’ll be quite beautiful. You’ll have that to work in your favor at leas--”

“The whole book,” Essik interrupted, stretching out his hand for Caleb to take. “Minus the confidential parts. And only while I’m around for you to copy it.”

Caleb grinned, and shook his hand firmly. “It’s a deal, then.”

“And if you blow yourself up with time magic, well, that’s just one less thing for me to worry about,” Essik grimaced, letting go of Caleb’s hand. He turned his back on Caleb, turning towards the table in the center of the room, with spellbooks and scrolls still opened up to various different dunamantic spells. Methodically, Essik began packing up, putting each book and scroll back in it’s case.

“It wouldn’t have to be real, you know,” Caleb offered, his voice quiet as he followed the drow around the room. “The Mighty Nein, we are planning to leave for a bit anyway. Have an errand to run in Nicodranas. You could try and find a legitimate partner while I’m gone, and we could, ah, break up when I return,” Caleb seemed unbothered by the prospect. “Or you said it yourself, that polyamory is a thing here. If you found another whose company you preferred, I would not be opposed. Or we could separate, after a time. When you thought it was safe,” Essik didn’t answer him.

Caleb watched Essik as he meticulously placed several books back into his bag, seemingly intent on ignoring Caleb. “That is a thing here, right? Divorce?” Caleb asked with genuine curiosity. If it wasn’t, perhaps that would be why Essik was so hesitant. “When two married people don’t want to be together anymore, they can separate legally?”

“We call it annulment, but yes, that’s a thing here,” Essik paused his packing momentarily to look back at Caleb. “It’s not terribly common, but it does exist. It--it wouldn’t be out of the question for me to seek an annulment.”

“Then perfect!” Caleb beamed, clapping his hands together. “We get married, you let me copy your spellbook, your mother gives up on finding you the perfect bride, and then we go our separate ways as friends and--”

Essik kissed him.

It was strange, being kissed by Essik. Sure, the drow man was incredibly attractive, but Caleb hadn’t thought to ever do anything about that, beyond a nighttime fantasy or two. What started as a simple press of lips quickly grew more passionate, as Caleb opened his mouth, and Essik opened his. Caleb was pushed with his back up against the table, as Essik had one hand flat against the table and the other crawling across the length of Caleb’s back. Caleb kept his hands pressed in the space between Essik’s neck and jawline, fingers tracing upwards towards white hair and pointed ears.

Essik kissed Caleb the same way lightning came with a storm, sudden and unexpected, a hot surge of energy radiating against Caleb’s skin. Caleb felt like his entire body was on fire; each place the drow kissed or touched left smoldering in its absence.

He didn’t know how long they kissed for. But they had to breathe at some point. Essik pulled away slow, then rested his forehead against Caleb’s own. “Well. That was nice.”

“Were you concerned?” Caleb asked, catching his breath, his back made uncomfortable by the way the table was digging into it, but unwilling to move any farther out of Essik’s embrace.

“Of course. I had to make sure we were compatible in that way,” Essik was teasing him, although it was hard to tell based on how serious his voice sounded. “For all I knew, you were a bad kisser. I couldn’t marry you if you were a bad kisser.”

“Hmm, well,” Caleb grinned, licking his lips where Essik’s had been moments ago. “Glad I passed the test.”

Essik smiled at him, a little coyly, and then kissed Caleb on the forehead. “I would not ask anything of you that you would be unwilling to do.” The drow promised, both of his hands on Caleb’s cheeks. “But my mother has a soft heart. If she thought I genuinely loved someone, she would support me, no matter who they were. We--we would need to convince her that we were in love, though.”

More kisses then. In public, where people could see. Certainly, there were worse things than kissing a handsome man in public. Caleb nodded, and bit his lip at the thought of kissing Essik again. “Ja. I can do that.”

“And--drow society is not always kind to outsiders,” he ran one hand down the side of Caleb’s face. “You would-- I would expect my cousins to be better people, but I cannot promise that they would not be unkind to you. There would be--rumors and gossip, always . My immediate family in particular may not be warm or friendly, especially at first.”

“It is nothing worse than what I have already endured,” Caleb confessed. Given everything he had already lived through, he could handle a few gossiping tongues. “And you are teaching me dunamancy. I feel it is only fair for me to help you given how you have helped me.”

Essik smiled, reaching out and taking Caleb’s hand into his own. “Your hand in marriage, in exchange for dunamacy lessons?”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “Well, when you put it that way--”

“I am being serious,” Essik said softly. “You don’t know how much this means to me. You,” he stopped and squeezed Caleb’s hand. “If this works, you’ll have saved my life.”

Caleb could tell he meant those words. Whether that meant Essik would have ended his own life to avoid a loveless marriage, or if he just meant that his life wouldn’t have been worth living, Caleb couldn’t tell.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Caleb whispered. “I don’t--I am not always the best at realizing what that is at times, but I know this is right. I would want someone to do the same for me, if I were in your shoes.”

Essik kissed him again, softly this time, and he pulled away far quicker than Caleb would have liked. Instead, he took Caleb’s hands and brought them to his lips, kissing both hands, one, and then the other. “You bring me honor by considering me as a partner.”

His words sounded solemn, like those of a vow, but Caleb didn’t know the context beyond that. It felt important, however, so Caleb remained silent, and let Essik speak. “I promise you loyalty, first to my Den, of which you will become a part, then to my Dynasty, and lastly to our line, that it may be prosperous. I promise you hearth and health, for as long as I am able to provide it, and that you may always have a home in Den Theylas, no matter what life you take on next. Above all, I promise to be your partner, in life and in love, through failure, sorrow, triumph, and joy, so long as you should have me as your husband,” Essik’s face glowed slightly. He then took off his cloth belt, and wrapped the fabric tightly around Caleb’s right wrist.

They were quiet for a moment as Caleb admired the newfound cloth bound tightly along his wrist. It was dark in color, like most of the clothes Essik wore, but it was silk, a nice fabric, and there was a recognizable emblem of Den Theylas sewed on it. The wrapping was tight, but not uncomfortable, and in hindsight, Caleb had seen others with their wrists bound like this that he had passed on the street. It’s like a ring, he thought, and felt his cheeks color. “I don’t know what to say.”

“ Yes is the preferred answer, given that this was your idea,” Essik kissed his clothed hand again.

“Yes, then.”

“I imagine the Empire has a slightly different traditional proposal?”

“It’s much simpler,” Caleb felt his face flush. “But, ah, seems less romantic in comparison.”

“What’s it like?” Essik asked with curiosity, and Caleb recognized the gleam of someone who wanted to learn as a kindred spirit.

He knelt down on one knee before Essik, taking the other man’s hand into his own. “Will you marry me?” He asked, fully aware of how red his face was. Essik didn’t seem to mind, as he was still smiling at Caleb.

“Oh, much simpler,” the drow grinned, squeezing Caleb’s hand. “Yes.”

“Traditionally, I’d have a ring, too, but you caught me a bit off-guard.”

“Any ring?” Essik asked, taking one off his fingers and offering it to Caleb, who was still kneeling.

“ Nein , not quite,” Caleb laughed, putting the gold ring back on Essik’s hand, the mimicry of an actual proposal. “It should be something we pick out together.” He stood up and kissed Essik again, softly and quickly, the way he might’ve if he had actually proposed to someone.

For a moment, he imagined that it was real. That he and Essik had fallen deeply, madly in love, in such a short time that they’d known each other, and decided tonight to promise themselves to each other. He could picture it, easily. The drow shly inviting him to dinner, late one evening after a long day of dunamancy practice. After an evening of witty banter and stimulating intellectual arguments, they’d retire to Essik’s private library, where the Shadowhand would try to impress him with his collection. But for once in his life, Caleb would be more distracted by his partner than he would be the collection of books. They’d kiss then in the library, hesitant at first but growing until the late hour demanded Caleb return to the Xhorhouse, alone but gifted with an overactive imagination and the promise of a second date.

After that, their relationship would move quickly; soft, hesitant kisses exchanged for evenings spent in one another’s bedchambers. When they were exhausted, they’d trade stories and secrets to one another. In his mind, Essik accepted every dark thing Caleb had ever done, and promised to help him figure out the dunamatic magic he needed to achieve his goals.

The Mighty Nein would love him; hell, the Mighty Nein already liked Essik, a lot. He was the first invited guest into their home, and Caleb imagined that it would not take much to invite him into the fold, the way they had done with Yeza. He would get teased, of course; “Cay-leb has a boy-friend~” Jester would sing, and Caleb would blush, but Essik would be beside him, squeezing his hand gently, and it would be worth it.

It just made Caleb wish the fantasy were real , that’s all.

“I suppose the only thing left to do is to tell the family,” Caleb smiled, shaking himself out of his daydream. “Mine and yours.”

“Tomorrow night,” Essik promised, suddenly solemn. “My Den is having a gathering tomorrow night. I--if you would do me the honor of escorting me, I thought we could make the announcement there. And you could meet my family, such as they are.”

“We need to talk more before then,” Caleb agreed, leaning down to lace his fingers with Essik’s. “Get our story straight, decide on what we want to tell them. It will be easier if we go in with a plan.”

“I’d love to,” Essik let go of his hand. “But not right this second. We’re hardly alone right now, darling.”

Caleb hadn’t noticed, but at some point in the past few minutes, Yeza Brenatto had opened the door to the library, and was staring at them sheepishly.

“So, you and Essik are getting married?”

“Ja.”

“But not for real?”

“Only...sort of for real?” Caleb shrugged, leaning back against the wall of the War Room. “It’s so Essik doesn’t have to go through with an arranged marriage.”

“Are you in love?” Jester asked, teasingly.

“If anyone asks, yes.” Caleb winked at her, conspiring. “We are trying to make it look convincing.”

“Because Essik’s mother is terrible?” Beau added. “And doesn’t want him to marry a boy?”

“She wants him to have children, yes. Whether she takes issue to him marrying a boy specifically, that I do not know.”

“That’s real shitty of her,” Beau practiced punching her fist into her palm.

Caleb nodded. “I agree. It’s part of why I’m helping him.”

“Do you even like boys?” Fjord asked, with genuine curiosity in his voice. “I’ve never known you to flirt with... hell , anybody, really.”

“I like boys,” Caleb confessed. “And girls. Generally, I like pretty people. I am not terribly picky when it comes to partners.”

“That’s what Molly used to say,” Yasha smiled sadly.

“Well, he was a smart person.” And a pretty one, Caleb thought but didn’t add.

“But you used to have a girlfriend.” Nott accused him.

He didn’t particularly want to talk about Astrid again. “And now I have a boyfriend. Husband. Fiance. Whatever,” Caleb waved them off. “We’re just pretending, anyway.”

“Cause Essik’s mom is a huge homophobe and we’re not about that?” Beau grinned, spinning around in her chair. “I’m into this plan.”

“Your involvement in this plan is minuscule.”

“Still into it.”

“Well, I’m happy for you, Mr. Caleb,” Caduceus smiled into his cup of tea. “I think you and Essik will make each other real happy.”

Caleb frowned at the firbolg. “We, ah, we are only pretending to be a couple, Mr. Clay.”

“Real happy,” Caduceus repeated, and with such seriousness that Caleb wondered if he spoke the truth, or if he knew something about the future that Caleb didn’t.

Yeza raised his hand in the air like a well-trained student, unlike the rest of the Mighty Nein who had talked all at once all over each other. “Mr. Caleb, sorry, but I have a question. Wouldn’t it be better for Mr. Essik to marry both Lady Olios and yourself? You said polyamory was a thing,” he shot a look that Caleb didn’t follow towards Nott. “Wouldn’t that solve the problem better? Then his mother wouldn’t be angry.”

“I believe that he doesn’t want to do that, so we’re not going to. But it’s a good suggestion if everything goes to shit.”

“Follow up question,” Beau raised her hand, mimicking Yeza. “Is Lady Olios hot, and can Essik introduce me to her?”

Caleb sighed. “ Beauregard.”

He didn’t get the chance to chastise her further. There was a knock on the door that then opened, revealing a slightly flustered Essik. “Sorry. I know I said I was leaving, and I am , but I had a thought,” he smiled at Caleb warmly, and walked over and kissed his cheek. “Hi babe.”

Caleb winced. “ Nein . I hate it.”

“Honey?” Essik tried instead while Jester cooed at them.

“Even worse.”

“Alright. No pet names,” Essik shrugged. “I just wanted to know, do you happen to have a cloth of some sort? Something with your family’s sigil on it? It should really have your den’s emblem on it, but I was under the impression the Empire didn’t really have Dens like the Dynasty does.”

“Ah,” Caleb looked down at his Essik’s bare wrist. “For your wrist, I assume.”

Essik raised an eyebrow. “To show that I am promised to another, yes.”

“I thought we weren’t meeting your family until tomorrow night.”

“We aren’t. But I thought wearing a band now would start the rumors going at least.”

Caleb didn’t look up from the floor, feeling his cheeks burn red, as they had so often in the drow’s presence. “I, uh, I do not have a family, Essik. So I do not have any sort of cloth with my family’s insignia on it. I don’t--”

“He has a clan, though,” Fjord interrupted him unexpectedly, standing tall. “ Us . The Mighty Nein. Would that work?”

Caleb felt a surge of pride rush up into his chest. He may not have a family anymore, but he had the Nein, and that was--that was something.

Essik raised a curious eyebrow. “Do you have a cloth with the Nein’s insignia on it?”

The seven individuals (plus Yeza) who made up the the Mighty Nein all shared a look. “Not right now,” Yasha spoke first. “But I can sew.”

That was a little unexpected, but the barbarian was full of many hidden talents.

“So can I!” Jester added.

“Excellent!” Essik beamed. “It doesn’t have to be large. About yea big. You can use mine as an example,” he held up Caleb’s wrist to show the band off, his thumb placing emphasis on the emblem of Den Theylas. “The important part is that people will see it and recognize that I’m being courted by a member of your Den.”

Jester and Yasha shared a look. “We can come up with something, Caleb!” Jester offered excitedly. “That way Essik has something to wear to show off the fact that he loves you and totally wants to be your husband and that you guys are going to get married and adopt like, all of the babies, and--”

Caleb held his hand up to cover his eyes. “Jester, there can be no dicks on it.”

(“What.” Essik asked with disbelief, his eyes going from his pretend fiance to Jester and back again. “ What?”)

The tiefling immediately deflated, collapsing back into her chair with a pout and her arms crossed. “Not even a little one? Just a teeney tiny little dick?” She tried to bargain, her fingers almost pressed together in simulation of the size. Caleb shook his head no, and she huffed in response. “What could we even use as a symbol for the great Den Mighty Nein if not a tiny dick?”

Essik nearly collapsed on the floor, he was laughing so hard. “A tiny dick!” He laughed, his face a dark purple. “How scandalous! Truly, I’m marrying up in this world.”

Caleb scowled, his face still pink, and shoved his pretend fiance towards the door. “Go away. Go, do your job or something. Make enough money to support me and our nine adopted children.”

“ Nein ,” Essik howled, still laughing even as Caleb closed the door to the War Room behind him. (Or maybe it was “ Nine???” like the Shadowhand couldn’t possibly imagine his and Caleb’s imaginary union resulting in nine adopted children. It didn’t make a difference to Caleb.)

“Well, now I gotta sew a little dick on there,” Jester argued, leaning back dangerously in her chair, her arms still crossed sourly. “I’ve never seen him laugh before.”

Neither had Caleb. But he was eager to see it again.

“Are you sure about this, Caleb?” Yasha asked, questioning. “Marriage is a big deal. I know you can separate whenever you want,” she brushed her hand aside, like she didn’t quite believe what Caleb had told her. “But it’s still a big commitment. And it’s a big thing, living with someone. You really get to know them, the good and the bad.”

“I live with you all currently,” Caleb argued. “It hasn’t changed much.”

“It’s different, when you share a bedroom. And a bed,” Yasha continued. “I don’t think you are taking this seriously enough.”

“And I think all of you are underestimating what a boon it would be to have the Shadowhand’s favor,” Caleb glared a bit, leaning over the War Table. “We have been wanting to ally ourselves with the Krynn. This is just another way of doing that.”

Without speaking, Nott stood up and crawled onto the table. She walked across the War Room table, bare goblin feet trending on oak wood, until she stood face to face with Caleb. By standing on the table and with him leaning over, she was eye level with him in a way she normally wasn’t.

She took his face into her hands, and cradled it gently. “Caleb. You deserve to marry for love, sweetheart. Not political favor.”

“It’s sweet that you think anyone could ever love me, given what I’ve done,” he rested his forehead against hers.

“Caleb ,” She admonished, pulling away from him. “ I love you. Everyone here,” she gestured around to the others seated at the table. “Loves you. What makes you think that there isn’t someone out there who could love you, too? Romantically even?”

He pulled away from her further. “Nott. I’m going to marry Essik. I’m sorry if you disapprove--”

“On the contrary,” Nott interrupted him. “I like Essik. I like Essik for you, even. He’s a good boy who has supported us when we’ve needed him to. He’s smart, he’s handsome, he’s loyal. He’s everything I could ever want for you. But,” she reached out for him again. “You don’t love him, Caleb. And you deserve to have someone who loves you, like I love Yeza,” she looked back at her husband, who was smiling at her, full of pride.

“Nott has a point, Caleb,” Jester added, her voice a little sad and a little soft. “You should marry for love. In every book I’ve ever read, love is like, the greatest thing that’s out there, and Nott just made me really sad thinking that you don’t think you deserve to be loved? How could you?”

“Hang on just a second,” Fjord shook his head, a confused look on his face. “What are we even talking about love for, anyway? Caleb’s a grown man, and it’s his decision. He does Essik a solid by marrying him, and gets to learn fancy drow magic and we get in even better with the Bright Queen? I’m not seeing a downside.” Fjord rested his elbows on the table. “Maybe Caleb and Essik don’t love each other, but Essik doesn’t love this drow girl, either, and it’s not fair to make him have to get married to her if Caleb backs out of this.”

“Bingo,” Beau threw her thumb towards Fjord. “Essik’s been good to us. Better than we expected. We should help him if we can. I’m on team marry-the-pretty-drow-boy”

“I was too, until Nott started talking about how he should marry for love and stuff!” Jester argued.

“Regardless,” Caduceus stood up, scooting his chair back, towering over everyone at the table, including Nott who was still standing on the table. “It’s Caleb’s decision, ultimately. And we’ll support you, no matter what you decide.” He walked over to where Caleb was standing, and squeezed his shoulder firmly.

“I have already agreed to this,” Caleb held out his banded wrist for everyone to see, the symbol of his engagement to Essik on display. “I’m going to follow through with it.”

“Good for you,” Caduceus patted his shoulder again. “We leave for Nicodranas in five days. Do you think you’ll still be able to join us?”

“I should,” Caleb removed Caduceus’s hand from his shoulder. “I already told Essik that that was our plan.”

“Excellent!” Caduceus grinned. “I need more tea.”

With that, the large firbolg left the room, and one by one, the Mighty Nein followed, until only Caleb and Nott were still in the War Room.

“Nott---” He shook his head. “It likely won’t be forever. Either I’ll find someone, or more likely, Essik will, and we’ll separate. This is just one way I can help him and further my goals, all at once.”

“I know,” Nott said sadly, and patted his cheek again. “I just hope you don’t get your heart broken in the process.”

You could not break what you did not have, Caleb didn’t say. But he followed her out of the room regardless.

#critical role #shadowgast #caleb widogast #essik theylas #mighty nein

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