i don't think i could possibly resist 12 "when they haven’t seen each other for a while (bonus point if they’re not sure the other one is alive) and all this time they’ve been trying to stay strong, but when they reunite, they crash into each other’s arms, and completely breakdown… "
yes. YESSSSS. this is a bit modified to fit current parameters but, you knew what you were getting from this one ;)
“Essek? We’re about to come back to the outpost. How are you doing? Have you seen anyone? Are you alive? No one’s kidnapped you, have they?”
He opens his mouth to respond, in the process of looking up from his work, and stutters for a moment. “I— yes, I’m fine, I’m here—should I be concerned? Jester? Ah— Hang on—”
He knows better than most how valuable spell slots are for someone who might shortly be stranded somewhere outside an established outpost here, so he twists a couple of runes between his own fingers.
“Jester, is there a concern? Should I put the outpost on alert?”
“No, no, no, don’t worry about it! We’ll see you really really soon, we have a present for you, I think you’ll really like it—“
And then the magic cuts her off, and despite her assurances, he stands from his desk, anxiety dancing across his skin like electricity, and he pulls his cloak over his shoulders and mantle, walking to the door.
The cold hits him as the guards fall into the formation for individuals sighted—he should return inside until they’ve confirmed that it is in fact the Nein, but the gut feeling that sits with him makes him continue moving, pulling his hood over his head to let the white fur blend into the landscape.
From a couple hundred meters out, seven figures approach, in their eclectic assortment of warm clothing, and though nothing looks particularly wrong, they have a habit of arriving very calmly with terrible news, and he speeds up his movement as he hurries to intercept them.
It’s only when he reaches them that he can see the bloody noses and the scrapes that he recognizes as the effects of a particularly bad teleport attempt, and he stops short. “What happened?”
“Oh, Caleb teleported us into a mountain, is all,” Fjord says with a forced casualness, but Caleb, in the center, only stares at him like he’s seen a ghost.
Caleb stumbles forward to close the last space between them and, even as beat up as he is, catches Essek in a bone-crushing hug, clutching him to his chest.
Essek can barely breathe by the time he lets him go, as much from how tight Caleb holds him as from his own shock, and Caleb’s fingers scrabble at his arm, clinging to him, as he stammers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t—“ He looks more frightened than Essek has ever seen him as he fishes with one hand in the pockets of his coat, and Essek just stares at him and lets him hold tightly to his sleeve as he pulls out an amulet that Essek has only seen on a couple of occasions.
“Put this on, please,” Caleb says, every syllable clipped, and Essek fumbles for words.
“What? I’m— Where did you get this?”
“From Trent Ikithon’s private torture dungeon,” Caleb snarls, and as cold as it is out here, exposed beyond the edge of the outpost, a deeper chill wracks him. He takes the necklace and clenches it in his palm. “He knows— he knows—“ He shakes his head. “You’re the only person left we need to protect from him.”
“He knows that—“ Caleb looks to the sky and takes a breath to steady himself. His fingers are still tight on Essek’s sleeve, and for the first time he realizes that Caleb is shaking. “He is angry. With me. And he knows that you have taught me. He believes that you might be important enough to me to coerce me.”
Essek doesn’t let himself ask if Trent Ikithon is right, but with how unwilling Caleb is to release his grip, he doesn’t think he has to.
Fjord clears his throat. “Perhaps you should both talk? Somewhere more private?” And Essek’s heart pounds, but he nods slowly.
“Come,” he says, and looks around at the group, spotting the identical amulets around their throats. “This certainly changes… a lot.”
“We don’t need to leave again now, I hope,” Beau says, rubbing the blood streaming from her nose on the wraps around her knuckles.
“No, no, certainly not,” he says, and gestures them to continue toward the outpost. Through the walk, Caleb’s hand doesn’t let him go, and he wraps his own fingers around Caleb’s on his arm. “I am alright, Caleb, really,” he murmurs under his breath, as they near the outpost, and Caleb nods quickly, but his grip does not release.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have— I’m sorry,” he says again.
Essek should be terrified, he should be panicking as badly as the last time they’d arrived, but he knew this was only a matter of time, and the edges of the metal against his palm are sharp in a pain that is… well, a little comforting in the knowledge of the protection it offers. Protection that Caleb felt comfortable entrusting with him.
“Every decision that has led here I’ve made myself,” he whispers with a pleasant mask of a smile, and if the guards notice Caleb holding onto him as though worried he might dissolve beneath his fingers, they don’t mention it. And if he presses closer to Caleb to take advantage of the anti-scrying magic that he wears that Essek has not yet attuned to, it is fine that the guards may talk of other things. “I told you that I don’t expect to live very long as it is, but… if this allows us to protect each other, then I am grateful to you for the opportunity.”
As he ushers them into his quarters where they last convened, he squeezes Caleb’s fingers once before he lets go and follows them inside.
