wise bovine.

caduceus clay of the mighty nein. ' i joined your group of friends - i guess our group of friends, now - as a testament of faith, and it would be a disservice to that faith to turn around because it's hard. If it'd have been easy, I suppose I wouldn't have been needed to be called to it. ' art credit: icon / sidebar & header.

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brknsh‌:

          distraction doesn’t come to him easily. caleb listens, tries to follow caduceus’ words and focuses on too many things at once, before eventually settling on the sensation of fingers stroking over scarred palms. it’s a weird feeling, as cad passes the parts of his skin that are more responsive to touch than others. weird to see him caress the source of all of caleb’s pain. this is where his power shows itself. this is where he causes death, misery and destruction. 

          his thoughts want to spiral and he doesn’t let them. instead of continuing down the path he already started, caleb closes his eyes. it’s less difficult to calm down when he can ignore cad’s eyes on him, attentive and concerned, as they mostly are. he’s vividly aware of how little he believes him. things happen in battle, why? because you want to save your own skin and also the people you’re travelling with. the priorities differ between each of them, but caleb has seen it more than enough to know that all of them have put themselves at a high risk to save the others. hell, that’s exactly what happened right after caduceus teamed up with them. 

          getting hurt happens, yes, but he won’t stop blaming himself for this for a while.

          still, he takes a deep breath. it comes out as shaky as one would expect, but the effort is there. there’s silence between them, quiet caleb uses to try and pick up a few of the pieces that shattered in those few minutes of conversation. it’s only now that he notices that it might be too much for him to work through in this very moment. caduceus is probably right. as any student would, he wants to pick it all apart right now, get every bit of information as soon as possible to try and understand. but his body is tired, and so is his mind. 

          ‘ i’ve never died before. ‘ isn’t that absurd? caleb’s done so many things, endured torture, almost drowning, almost bleeding out so many times, but he never died. he smiles, then, a little empty, a little crazy. ‘ one time, before you joined us, i was pinned to a wall by two spears and didn’t even pass out. ‘ which, to be fair, was partly due to jester’s healing, but it’s the first dangerous situation that comes to mind. his voice sounds as fragile as one would expect, the spill of words suddenly continuous. caleb doesn’t notice, too occupied with everything else, but his fingers return the grasp caduceus has on his hand, wrapping around his in return. even his head tips forward a little, towards the other. 

          ‘ ich weiß nicht. it’s terrifying. ‘

Bile rises in Caduceus’s throat as he, much against his will, imagines Caleb impaled. Yesterday’s experiences unfortunately gives him a good idea of what that might look like. He closes his eyes to whisk the picture away, but instead it only grows clearer. Even though the traces of the injuries must have disappeared by now, his hands itch with the urge to undress Caleb and explore his body for any wounds that have ever been missed by a healing hand.

I love you, Caduceus thinks so clearly that throws himself off and makes his breath hitch. His thumbs still. Obviously, the realization of what he feels for Caleb hit him yesterday, but hearing his own voice ( internal or not ) declare it so determinedly, so instinctively ... it is overwhelming. Love really is, isn’t it? His parents should’ve told him about this -- how his heart seems to take up half of his body and beat furiously at every second spent in silence. Any description cannot do the feeling justice, but a warning would have been nice.

He swallows and squeezes Caleb’s hand. As much as he is overcome with these emotions, he knows it is not the time or the place to express them in so many words. Even if Caleb, by some miracle work of the Wildmother, were to feel the same, he would probably not be capable of dealing with this in a healthy way. Telling Caleb now would not be worth the fallout. It is better to wait. And that’s alright, Caduceus is good at waiting. Time passes differently for humans anyway, doesn’t it? Twenty seasons was perhaps not a mere blip in time, but it was not so long to be alone in the Grove. In Caleb’s company, it will be easy to wait a hundred.

This realization doesn’t change the rush of pure yearning Caduceus feels when he looks up at Caleb and notices how closely they sit, how their heads have begun to angle toward one another, bodies seeking each other out very automatically in the early morning. It feels like physical pain, so tangible that he almost checks himself for remaining wounds.

“That wasn’t the ending you deserve. You deserve something ... peaceful. Old. In a time far away from now.” He tightens his hold on Caleb’s hand. “I’ll do my best to keep that from happening again, but no matter what, you will not meet your end on a battlefield. I promise.”

[rowyndodendron]

Campaign 2 Episode 30 

Caduceus ‘What’s a smut shop?’ Clay 

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he.

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brknsh‌:

          hearing it really shouldn’t shake him this hard. caleb is a smart man, and everything he processed until now pointed to that exact conclusion. nevertheless. it hurts. 

          he laughs, humorless, no smile on his lips as his entire upper body shakes with it. caduceus has heard it before so it’s not difficult to recognize the panicked breathing, which is what it slips into, after a second or two: his hands start travelling from his forearms back to his shoulders, the gentleness from before gone. scratching, clutching, digging his nails into his skin to feel some pain, to know that he is, indeed, alive. they clumsily end up pressed against his eyesockets, eyes pressed close tightly. is this a panic attack? maybe. caleb mostly just feels like it’s an appropiate response to hearing what he just did.

          heaving the air out of his lungs feels like soundless screaming, and while his heart flutters in his chest, he feels better afterwards. it’s the one moment of vulnerable weakness he’ll allow himself about this - as soon as nott wakes up, he can’t do this anymore. he doesn’t deserve the comfort she’ll try to offer. he doesn’t deserve the comfort caduceus will want to offer, either, but caduceus is here, has spent the night on his floor with untreated wounds to make sure caleb stays alive, so he can’t exactly throw him out of the room. 

          he still hates this. all of it. when his hands retreat from his eyes he presses his palms together, ignores the obvious tremor in them and looks at caduceus. or, he tries. blue eyes are still a bit blank, still staring through. he doesn’t consider how familiar it must seem to the other. 

          ‘ dankeschön. danke, caduceus. ich … ‘ wait, no, that’s not right. he tries again. ‘ you saved my life. ‘ he has to dig his fingers into the back of his hands to stop them from reaching out. caduceus is so close, and all caleb wants to do is take a better look at the firbolg’s hand, inspect if the diamonds are gone, if he’s okay. there’s a lot going on in his head, but most of it is circling around how he does not deserve this. ‘ i wasn’t - i wasn’t worthy of it, but, you - you did. are you … ‘ are you okay? are you the only one who saw me like that?

          nott is right next to him, the scent of alcohol evident with their proximity. she deserves so much better. every single one of them deserves better. he could’ve died, and she would’ve been alone again. he would’ve abandoned her when he knows exactly how much she needs him to stick around and help. he did die, and he’s only here because caduceus thought he was worth saving. his pathetic, murderous, useless, disgusting self of a human being. 

          ‘ who - who saw? did - were you the only one? ‘ which is the moment his thoughts tumble back to the injuries he saw on caduceus. ‘ did … did those happen because of me? ‘

Panic is something Caduceus has seen on Caleb’s face more times than he can count. By now, he knows every little pull of his mouth, every rushed breath, every tense muscle in his neck. But even a stranger would find it a challenge to ignore the extreme signs of distress Caleb shows.

Caduceus almost reaches out to clutch Caleb’s arm and keep him from hurting himself, but before he can, Caleb has lowered his hands and is speaking – what he says, Caduceus is not entirely sure. He thinks he’s heard this ‘dahnguh’ before, probably a few times, but it never occurred to him to ask what it meant. Nevertheless, it is a relief to see Caleb change his mind about causing himself pain. That is a start.

You saved my life. Caduceus smiles even though he feels more like grimacing. It sounds so grand when he puts it like that – certainly grander than rushing to him after it was already too late. I wasn’t worthy of it, Caleb says, and Caduceus automatically shakes his head. All life is sacred in the eyes of the Wildmother, but Caleb is sacred to him. Caleb will have to accept that. Perhaps these feelings Caduceus has discovered himself to be harboring aren’t requited, but that doesn’t mean he will stop taking care of Caleb. It has always been his job – and a job he does with pleasure.

At first, he’s confused what Caleb is talking about, until he hears the panic in his voice. Oh, the injuries. “No,” he insists, finally reaching out and grabbing Caleb’s hand. It is cold, but most humans run cold in comparison to Caduceus. “They weren’t your fault, they weren’t anybody’s fault; that’s just what happens in battle sometimes.”

His hands cup Caleb’s, thumbs tracing slow patterns on his skin. The purple light reflects against the red gemstone of the periapt that rests against Caleb’s chest, still undiscovered. “We can talk about all of this later,” he says, purposefully lowering his voice -- both in terms of pitch and volume, “but right now, Caleb, you need to take a deep breath, and relax.”

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circusglass‌:

Caduceus makes room for him and that, more than anything else, has Molly’s breath shivering violently out of him, hands grasping in an effort to stay buoyed.

He is a warm body Molly presses against the instant he opens for him, arms shoving around him, fingers clutching, twisting into the fabric of his shirt, tail betraying him more than the wet eyes or broken gasps. It snakes around one of the cleric’s legs, flexing, loosening, flexing again. Every breath splinters beneath his sternum, through his ribs, puffing against Caduceus’s fur, and he should lift his head so he can breathe, but he doesn’t want to take the chance and lose this bubble of safety, no matter how momentary. 

He’s warm. He smells like earth, but not the cold grave dirt muddying Molly’s clothes and skin. There’s something fresh to it, something tended. Alive. He shifts the barest amount, temple nudging to the wet impression he’s already pressed into Caduceus.

There are gentle, repetitive circles buzzing against his back. There is the rise and fall of Caduceus’s chest, measured and at odds with the whispered sobs still ripping through him. His arms are a pair of steady weights holding him in place. There’s a heartbeat, gentler than his own.

You can count them, Gustav suggested years ago when the emptiness yawned open to trap him inside of it. You can count breaths. He hadn’t known how to count then, but followed the pattern of Gustav’s tapping fingers where his hand was planted against his shoulder, starting with his thumb, then the press of his index, his middle and ring and pinky.

So he listens for the thump, then casts out for his own.

Eventually, the shuddering breaths ease. Eventually, Molly can blink without his gaze fracturing with tears. The clutch of his tail softens, squeezing in time with Caduceus’s pulse. He doesn’t feel empty, only leaden. He swallows, withdraws a hand to scrub an eye, though makes no move to shift away. He’d held Toya like this, once upon a time. His hand anchors against the soft fabric of Caduceus’s shirt.

“I don’t.” His laugh is small, scraped raw and forced, winds away from him, “Cry for just anyone.”

Crying is a lot like music, Caduceus thinks to himself as he holds the shaking body of Mollymauk Tealeaf. His chin carefully comes down to rest on top of the tiefling’s head, despite the horns that terrify him a little; not as a concept, of course, but it is unnerving to have a pair of sharp horns close to one’s face -- especially when they’re shaking.

Nevertheless, he enjoys the contact, the soft hair tickling his neck, and it is the best place to get a sense of another person’s smell, which is another thing Caduceus likes to investigate whenever he meets new people. Right now, Mollymauk smells of earth, which Caduceus doubts is a reflection of how he normally smells, but it is nice nonetheless.

When Mollymauk speaks, Caduceus chuckles along with him. Even though his voice feels entirely too loud, being so close to Caduceus’s sensitive ears, Caduceus doesn’t comment on it; he doesn’t want Mollymauk to interrupt an embrace he so clearly needs. Caduceus doesn’t mind putting aside his own comforts for a moment.

“Well, thank you, I’m honored,” he says truthfully, still rubbing soft circles on Mollymauk’s back. “I used to comfort people like this all the time.” He pauses. “Well, not exactly like this, but my family keeps a graveyard dedicated to the Wildmother, so I’ve seen a lot of people at their lowest point. They always get better, though, and so will you, Mister Mollymauk.”

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sapphiretrickster‌:

             “We should totally do it, then!” Jester gasps excited, clapping her hands together as a thousand ideas start running through her mind. Nott and Beau can be their coaches, and Caleb could probably be some kind of referee, probably. He’d be fair enough. Yasha could be their final fight, whoever wins the fight of the two of them goes against her.. But, then again, that might be too much. Maybe she’ll just settle for sitting down with Fjord and cheering. She’d be a great cheerleader! “What?” She shakes her head coming back to reality, frowning right after, “Why would you borrow Fjord’s falchion? I don’t– I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works, I think. But I think… you could probably make your spiritual weapon look like it, if you really like it. It’s a pretty cool sword.”

Her enthusiasm is both endearing and infectious. As many issues as Caduceus can see with their plan, he doesn’t really want to point them out. “That’s true, but I was thinking more in terms of having a physical weapon, if that’s what you’re saying you wanna teach me; physical fighting, that is. And I don’t have any -- except,” he adds, a sudden idea striking him, and he leaps from the table to grab something in the corner of the kitchen and hold it out, “this. This could work, right?” It is the shovel he has brought all the way from home.

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assholeadjacent‌:

reading is not in any way a comfort for nott (not in the way it is for caleb and beau, who like to learn, or even in the way it is for jester, who likes to be entertained) so it’s fine that cad doesn’t want her help with it. it is, however, what she was bracing herself for. it seems like he and nott are always on opposites ends of any spectrum: tall and small, sneaky and eye-catching, calm and anxious. wants-to-help-with-reading and doesn’t-want-to read. 

she’ll deal with it, though. caduceus is worth it. mostly. 

‘ oh! that’s a great idea, actually! ’ her mind goes blank on games, especially games that caduceus might enjoy. or even games that she’s good at (not many at all). ‘ there’s this game jester taught me when we first met but, um…. i’m not very good at it. but we can try!! ’

So many of -- if not all of -- the Nein need to have a healthier relationship to themselves and their capabilities. It always disturbs Caduceus slightly whenever one of them says something negative about themselves, even though he understands the idea of one self being one’s worst critic and so on. Nevertheless, it is not nice to hear the people he has come to care about putting themselves down. It isn’t what they deserve.

It also isn’t something to bring up on a whim, though. Nor is it something that can be changed overnight -- especially not for Nott, whose self-hatred is comparable to Caleb’s. “I’m sure you’re great,” he says as lightly as he can, “and I definitely want to try that. Do we need anything: cards, dice?” He doesn’t have any on him, but someone on the ship is bound to have some.

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firegast‌:

    the pink light caused caleb to squint further, but he didn’t seem annoyed. just groggy. blue hues focus on the healing potion, the urge to say *no, that costs way too much* already bubbling up but he forced it down. caduceus would see caleb practically tell himself it was okay, then his eyes lock on the books.     curiosity and hunger are the first two emotions, before the look from before returns as caleb takes the books. it’s almost as if he is weighing up this entire exchange, running numbers when there shouldn’t be any to run. “ th-thank you, caduceus. you didn’t need to… “ he spoke softly, careful not to put the books on frumpkin who had just curled back up in caleb’s lap. “ it only made sense that you got the necklace. i try to be further away from the fights, and i can’t exactly heal. “

Caduceus shrugs a shoulder in reply, and leans against the wall. By now, he has figured out that Caleb prefers a sort of ‘ tit for tat ‘ interaction with people, and he supposes this was even prompted by Caduceus’s how interest in settling scores ( because what else could it be? ), but it isn’t actually that important to Caduceus. What is important is helping people. 

“In that same way, it only makes sense you should have this.” He smiles, now leaning his head against the wall, too. “Potions for when Jester and I are out of reach, and books because you’re the book-person.” The logic makes perfect sense to him at least.

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tiefsleuth‌:

           disoriented , he gratefully accepts the offered hand and once he’s returned to a vertical position he takes a moment to let himself double over , hands on his knees , as he takes a few deep breaths .  so he hadn’t died , that was good news . it sure had felt like it at the time , but he reckons a lot of things might feel like dying to someone who hasn’t done it before . the last traces of nausea subsides and he stands up straight , his face splitting into a smile that cracks spots of mud that have dried on the side of a pink cheek . ‘ well , dead or not , i suppose the thanks still stands .  ‘ he replies as he pats down the front of his coat , small clouds of dust and dirt escaping into the air as he does so . the suggestion of tea elicits an eager relief that quickly squashes any doubts sparked by the — ominous comment . he’s cold and his aching head feels so heavy he fears it might just roll off on it’s own , a hot beverage sounds like salvation .             ‘  that’s mighty hospitable of you , mister – uh , ‘ the polite curl to his lip goes brittle for a passing second as realization dawns upon him , and for a moment he can almost feel the distinct daggers of his mother’s glare at the back of his neck , ‘ oh , where are my manners , i haven’t even introduced myself  ! i’m bastion . what may i call you , if you don’t mind me asking ? ‘  

As soon as Bastion rises, Caduceus becomes very aware of the fact that the tiefling is almost as tall as himself. It is a rare occurrence, that. But it is pleasant not to have to develop a crick in his neck just in order to speak with someone. What is also humorous to him is that they sort of match -- in color, that is. While Caduceus’s fur is grey on the most of his body, it turns very distinctly pink in places where it grows longer, such as on his head or his chest, and this tiefling is certainly also pink -- though not quite as strongly; his color is a little more muted.

“Nice to meet you, Mister Bastion, my name’s Caduceus, Caduceus Clay; I’m the caretaker of this place. Please, follow me.” He tips his sunhat and leads Bastion through the graveyard, dodging headstones as they appear in his way, though he doesn’t even have to look at them to know when to step aside.

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phoenixcursed‌:

    hrafn stood up and stretched out his back before he looked about. “ they eat most plants, fungi, and algae. “ he told caduceus. “ there was a nice little area back this way actually. would be a good place to leave it. “     he began to walk, waiting for caduceus to come beside him. “ i’m hrafn by the way. “

“Oh, that’s great,” Caduceus says with another grin. Although he means to refer to the name being great, he might as well have meant it for any of the other information Hrafn has supplied. “I’m Caduceus, Caduceus Clay -- you can call me Cad or Mister Clay, whatever you prefer. My friends call me this and that.”

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someone rly needs to stop me from making a gi.lmore blog

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cad wouldve been such hot commodity in early medieval ireland

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ep. 50

live bloggin as i watch !! spoilers ahead

“i just got that, not even kidding” i love my ‘doesnt understand a single joke’ boy

“i’ll stick with you :-)” yea u’ll stick w caleb lmao

“cad do u know how far underground we are?” “nope! :-)”

cad casting light behind the crystals!!!!!!!!!!!! “i couldnt help myself”

modern au cad’s bedroom is full of crystals and moss and he owns at least 4 different himalayan salt lamps

cad is the LEAST stealthy int his stealth check w his 21 sbdjshdhg

MAP TIME

cad being nervous over caleb being pulled in,,,

“we could ask it politely to carry us”

“please, thank you, that gets you so far”

BEAU. i can just imagine cad going “hm interesting” to the smut jkdhjkh

cad going along w asking the hammer who its owner was skdhjkh

“caduceus when he does this he cant hear us” “what? oh. ive been talking a lot”

they found kobolts!!!!!!!!! theyre the main race in my group’s campaign

“we can make food or the cat can have its way...”

“bye buddy”

what the fuck i had no idea they were bringing in a guest kjsdhjksh

the guest’s kobolt has the exact same wicker basket + little creatures game as one of the kobolts we fought once

the “hey how u doin” to the skunks kjdhsjkh

“hi bees” “oh not the bees”

“do u want to follow us to the light at the end of the tunnel DKJHDKJHDKJH

“this kid thinks ur his mom” “that is rly super duper sad right now” im ckjshdkjhsjkh

ik it’s just tal being strategic but cad Constantly looking out for caleb is just. such gay energy

FJORD GETS HIT BY A COW

nott why are u alone

t h i s   i s   t e n s e

“i think abt my beautiful husband and i run across the lava” :(((((((

EIGHTEEN D 10

ok that was tense for a while but there was no way nott was dying so that definitely was a low-tension fun just as i’d hoped!!!

[acepalindrome]

What if Caduceus grows a winter coat when it gets cold so he’s extra soft and fluffy all over

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brknsh‌:

          the diamonds in caduceus’ hand glisten in the light of his staff. it’s not a heavy shine, not extraordinarily bright or colorful, but it’s enough to catch caleb’s attention. the panicked whimper leaves him before he can stop it. with the lacking energy his mind doesn’t immediately spiral into its usual cycle of loathing and hatred, but his mind does jump to his own arms - his hand stays pressed against the middle of his chest as he lowers his gaze to find them naked, bloody bandages neatly folded together next to his bed. 

          palms wrap around his forearms in a rather pathetic attempt to hide away, his body curling into itself. he feels so much more vulnerable with his scars visible than he does without his clothes and it shows, very clearly. right now, the minor comfort he finds in covering them as much as possible is enough to not worry about the implications of caduceus seeing them. his mind moves on to registering everything around himself, bit by bit. his gaze goes from the hand to nott, who’s currently hugging her flask against her chest, calmly rising and falling with each breath she’s taking. to see her alright and alive right next to him is so reassuring that he lets go a rush of air he didn’t realize he’s been holding. it sounds a little delirious.

          there are no wounds on his body, but he still feels horrible. the skin on his chest is unscarred, seemingly untouched, and caleb doesn’t know if he can trust that when it’s still hurting so bad, an ache he can’t seem to shake off. you got hurt pretty bad, caduceus says, and caleb remembers that. remembers being caught off guard, falling to the ground, unable to fight the darkness as it creeped closer. did he pass out? did caduceus save him?

          when his gaze falls back onto the cleric he’s considering his words properly, for the first time. if there was an awkward pause between caduceus holding his hand out, asking him questions, and caleb actually replying, he doesn’t realize. it’s all so much to take in, he doesn’t know where to start. so many questions to ask, and every word feels like he’s heaving more stones onto his chest, adding to the pressure that feels like it’s suffocating him.

          we’re all fine, caduceus says, and caleb can’t help but notice that caduceus looks horrible. untreated wounds fall into his sight of vision easily, given how out of place they look on the firbolg. there’s red gashes across his left shoulder, right arm. the loose shirt he’s wearing seems to be soaked in blood on one side of his hip. and his hand. gods, his hand. only as he thinks about it a second time, without the indications of his own trauma, does caleb realize that there’s not a lot of reasons why he’d have diamond pieces pressed into his hand. 

          jester’s voice passes through his head, her eyes so mournful that he felt even worse about mollymauk dying. i need to buy diamonds, so that this doesn’t happen again.

          ‘ cad - cad, you look like shit. ‘ part of him wants to slip off the bed, but he doesn’t feel nearly strong enough to move from this spot. he doesn’t know if touching caduceus right now would help his overwhelmed mental state, either, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to creep closer just to determine how badly he’s wounded. ‘ did you not heal yourself? ‘ 

          then, quieter, because he’s not sure if he really wants to hear it already, or if he’s ever going to realize it on his own: ‘ how … how bad? ‘ how badly did i get hurt?

No one as observant as Caduceus would miss the way Caleb folds in on himself, suddenly anxious to hide his body. At first, Caduceus worries that he feels violated from being taken care of, or even that he is remembering his injury too vividly, but he quickly realizes that Caleb’s desperation has a focus: his arms. Usually covered by bandages, Caduceus has never seen Caleb’s naked arms before. Even in the low light, he can see a huge collection of little scars. Not a lot of medical training is needed to see that they are the result of cuts.

Caduceus is, unfortunately, not surprised. Whenever he allowed himself to think of what the reason behind those bandages could be, this was an obvious possibility. Having those scars exposed when they are usually wrapped up in secret must give him a feeling of great shame. That would be a solid guess as to why his reaction is so strong.

You look like shit. It is not exactly a declaration of love, but Caduceus huffs a laugh and is satisfied regardless. There is the blunt Zemnian he knows. He regrets not healing himself now, but only because it seems like it distresses Caleb to see him like this -- probably because he is the main healer; if he goes down, everyone goes down with him ( which, by the way, is an incredible amount of pressure ).

Having now seen that Caleb is as alright as one could expect him to be, Caduceus mutters a Lesser Restoration. All of his wounds -- the slashes on his naked shoulder, arm, and side, as well as the puncture wounds on his hand -- immediately feel a lot better. Not perfect, but not infected. The swelling of his hand diminishes greatly. He flexes his hand, and then casts a Cure Wounds. Little bits of diamond drop to the floor as his wounds close. He feel refreshed.

“I wanted to wait until you woke up,” he admits, trying to pick his words carefully. Now that his pains have minimized, he rises from the floor ( with a good amount of cracking sounds from his back ) and carefully seats himself on the edge of the cot. “You were... there’s no way of saying this nicely, I’m very sorry, but you were bleeding out. The Wildmother brought you back. I’ve been... I’ve been staying, just to make sure you were alright -- and you are.”

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polyphoniie‌:

The remarks catch her off-guard. Most things Caduceus says have a habit of doing that. Just when she thinks she’s getting used to it…

“Uh..” Beau was not expecting to get so personal right now, and it shows, as she flounders between the truth and the lies that simultaneously find themselves on her tongue. He means well, she has to remind herself. Not everyone is out to get you.

“I mean, you like your parents, though. Right? I mean…you get along?” Beau crosses her arms over her chest and slumps back into her seat. It’s a defensive posture, though she’s trying to act casual and apathetic. “Mine want nothing to do with me, so…” She shrugs. “I dunno if I’m worried or not. Or if we should go to Kamordah. Doubt Ioun gives a shit about me, anyway.”

Caduceus hums quietly. Although he has only little experience with inter-family issues, he has met many over the course of his tending to the graveyard who have difficult relationships to their parents. In fact, he sometimes had visitors, who came to see their parents for the first time in years, the only thing left at this point being their stones.

Hopefully it won’t come to that for Beauregard.

What Caduceus knows a great deal more about than bad parents is religion. He doesn’t pretend to understand gods, not even the Wildmother ( or perhaps especially not the Wildmother ), but he thinks he has some experience in trying to communicate with one. “The gods sometimes show us things in ways we don’t realize are signs -- or she might not be communicating with you, but that might be a sign of its own. Gods are complicated. If you prefer to listen to your own mind as opposed to a god, I wouldn’t blame ya.”

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brknsh‌:

          sometimes, caleb has nightmares. mostly about his parents. at times about the scars enveloping his arms. every now and then he sees astrid and eodwulf. the constant reminders of past mistakes aren’t anything unusual, though he’d lie if he’d say he’s used to them. 

          all of them are painful, but none of them happen tonight. there’s a warm weight pressed against his side, he’s in bed, his body has the time to rest and recharge. for the current circumstances, this is as good as things can get. his mind stays free of troubles, even the physical ones. some subconscious part of him knows that nott is near. they’ve been sleeping in the same bed for as long as he can remember, both of them in need of companionship, of a friend. maybe that helps with prioritizing his physical trauma over the mental one. 

          it’s only towards the beginning of the day that his thoughts start to act up. maybe it’s because he’s slowly coming to consciousness again - the deep slumber he’s been taken by slowly being pulled away, leaving nothing to protect him from what it means to be alive again. dying isn’t pleasant, but being pulled back into the world of the living without much of a choice isn’t easy, either. the veil reveals what is a sick feeling to his stomach.

          he feels it shift from there, into his chest, and that’s where it sticks. he doesn’t see the blade that got ripped into his chest, but he certainly feels it. a deep, guttural feeling that leaves him feeling naked, feeling ripped apart, feeling like he should be something that he isn’t, not anymore. his chest is tight, tighter than it should be, and he awakens with a similar gasp as he did the first time, not sitting up, but arching his back off the mattress as his eyes fly open. 

          there’s no sight, the first second. there’s just copper, bronze, too much red to think of anything but pain. everything feels sore and he doesn’t know why. no thoughts about death, or having died, just that he’s here, and that he’s hurt, his basic human instincts kicking in. caleb is very close to panic, he knows that, with his heart ringing in his ears and his body feeling like its pulsing with it all. his sight returns as he sits up, breathing heavily. the blood rushes from that spot in his chest into the rest of his body - or at least, that’s what it feels like. like things are assembling themselves again. like his body is putting back the final pieces of itself.

          his hand is pressed against his chest, although he doesn’t remember placing it there. now that it is, though, it’s easy to feel the skin beyond his fingers. some part of him expects a hole to be there, like he’s trying to reach for something that doesn’t exist, but it’s calming nevertheless. sensations return to him one by one: the mattress he’s sitting on, the sleeping goblin at his side, the soft moonlight outside slowly being replaced by the sun, the warmth he’s been harvesting all night and of course, of course, the firbolg on the floor.

          as blue eyes land on caduceus, caleb doesn’t truly see him for a good minute. staring through him, as if he was a ghost caleb’s mind manifested to cope with all of this a tiny bit better. he’s not coping at all, right now. maybe just with feeling alive again. every little meaning behind that, though, is still far from him. he still hasn’t fully grasped the concept of being back. or that he died, really. the focus in his pupils shifts, until it eventually arranges just right.

          ‘ ca - ‘ he starts, and is immediately startled by how rough his voice sounds. it’s like he hasn’t talked for months, although it can’t have been that long, can it? maybe he’d give himself more time to adjust, but right now, with the anxiety slowly swelling up again, he needs an anchor to hold onto, and caduceus is the closest thing available. he can’t drown. not again.

          ‘ i … ‘ loss. so much loss in his eyes, confusion he doesn’t realize is there. what’s happening? where is he? what did he do? where are his parents? ‘ what … cad? ‘

For a sleeper as light as Caduceus, a sudden gasp is equivalent to an earthquake. He is startled awake. The first thing he notices is that he is lying on his back on the wooden floor of the Evening Nip. The second thing he notices is that the majority of his body hurts. The third thing he notices is that Caleb is awake.

For a moment, he just stares up at the general shadow of Caleb, the light from outside just enough for Caduceus to see an outline. Despite his lack of proper sight, he can easily sense Caleb’s confusion and anxiety. Caduceus wants to jump up from the floor and run to him and hold him to his chest. His body disagrees. It groans and whines and he can’t ignore how much it would hurt to spring around like a newborn calf. Even though it would be for Caleb.

They need light. Well, sometimes Caleb can see without light, but Caduceus needs it. So, he mumbles a familiar incantation and sets his staff, which leans against one of the walls, to a deep purple. The room is filled with light that enables Caduceus to see Caleb’s features, but isn’t harsh on morning eyes. As he expected, Caleb looks scared. It hurts to see, and again his body must fight to keep him on the floor.

It doesn’t win, not completely. Despite the somehow both throbbing and stiff pain in particularly his torso, Caduceus pushes himself up to at least sit. He manages to remember to not use his cut-up hand, which feels like it has been run over by their cart several times. A soft groan of pain sneaks out of his mouth while he isn’t looking.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he says softly, holding out a hand in Caleb’s direction. They aren’t quite close enough to touch. That might be for the better, though, because with his uninjured hand occupied with propping him up, it is his diamond-infested hand that is stretched out. Despite the purple light giving everything a monochromatic hue, Caduceus can tell, from the swelling alone, that it is infected. He will have to take care of that later. “It’s alright, you’re safe, this is safe. You got hurt pretty bad yesterday, but we fixed you. You’re fine, we’re all fine.”

‘Fine’ might be generous for his current situation, but considering how much Caleb has gone through, this is nothing. In the purple glow, Caduceus tries to imagine that the plumes of black are bits of night sky that have attached themselves to Caleb, and not dried blood. As tired as Caleb must be, they should go to a bathhouse and get him cleaned up: it would probably do his mental state more good than it would hurt his physical state.

“How do you feel? Do you need any healing? Or anything else?”