Still laughing about Caleb casually telling Essek in front of the Marble Tomes that he was in training to be a Scourger, when they have one in custody right that second for attempted murder in the Dynasty. Like from Caleb's perspective he'd established his goodwill pretty loudly via the beacon and even said he was from an "inner circle" of the Empire. But I feel like "btw that inner circle was assassins" is like a next level of bold to say when there has just been an assassin attack. And Essek maybe reads Caleb's earnestness correctly because he doesn't seem alarmed and just quips "are you telling me you're a Scourger?" and easily accepts the answer of no; it came across almost more like a teasing remark than anything else. But I also can't help but wonder if Essek, secretly-working-with-the-leader-of-said-assassins-(among-others) Essek, was also playing 5D chess with himself in his head for a moment as Caleb unknowingly threw yet another wild curve ball specially formulated to incite Crisis Mode for one (1) traitor in particular
I think the Mighty Nein should become Privateers and take over Darktow after they deal with this whole saving the world thing
I don’t have pirate names for all of them, but we would at least have a few.
“Plank King” Tusktooth
“Plank Queen” Sapphire of the Seas (Jester would paint over every L so it read “Prank” Queen)
Beau “Bad Bones”, “Strong Beau Bones” or even just Beau “Bones” and her wife Yasha, and it’s just Yasha as she needs no intimidating nickname. Although Beau would definitely try to give her one like “The Judge”
“Saint Clay” for the ever noble Cad or “The Undertaker” (as suggested by @avuhnoo) or maybe “Saint Undertaker”
I’m sure there are other amazing pirate names out there that I just haven’t thought of them yet.
Edit: Throwing these in as a edit note as I didn’t come up with these initially and I want to make it clear I’m not trying to trick anyone into thinking my brain works that fast. These aren’t great but they are a jumping off point
Caleb is simply “The Conflagration”
Veth could go by “Black Veth”, a play on Black Death with a reference to her use and love of black powder. Although, and I’m sorry I can’t remember who suggested this, but also she could just go by Nott again.
If Jester got the Eyes ALONGSIDE Beau and Caleb, you bet Beau would have joined in. Chaos Crew, yeah? Caleb might have as well. Can you imagine all three of them spamming the Tomb Takers. "This is the Molly remembering channel that you cannot turn off"
Oh HELL YEAH. And Caleb “Petty Bitch” Widogast would definitely be throwing his lot in. It’s not like Lucien can remote detonate a Rend Mind. As long as they’re out of range, HE CANT DO SHIT. HE HAS TO TAKE IT. Or what? Remove the eyes? Oh no Mistah Nonagon pwease not that.
Just sitting around going “hey remember when Molly-“ on main while Lucien screams MAKE YOUR OWN SUB-CHANNEL ALREADY.
There’s moments, when his hand stills in the air and stops shimmering, where he softens his whole expression and runs the feather of his pen along his lips, and Jester almost thinks he looks relaxed.
It’s been months, and Jester still hasn’t wrapped her head around Caleb’s magic. Her power comes from a place of faith and worship, but his, his is all timing and knowledge and science, and every night, while she whispers her thanks to the Traveller, he pours over his book, eyes glazed and glowing with arcane sparks, and Jester doesn’t know where he finds the patience for it.
Tonight is no different.
It’s early enough that they’re still around the fire, all laughs and punches when someone gets too loud, and then it’s back to whispers, like everything’s a secret being shared at a sleepover.
Jester likes it, likes it a lot, the not sleeping alone, the constant buzz of conversation, the giggling. At night, she’s far away from her lonely bedroom, and she’s surrounded by friends, and they fill her life with noise. Sometimes it gets really loud. Other times, it’s very very quiet.
It describes what’s around her perfectly.
Nott is full on standing on Fjord’s knees, has him held by the ears and is smushing their noses together, and Beau carefully observes, checks if either of them are blinking, and Jester wonders who’d be the best of the Nein at that— she doesn’t have to think much to suspect it’s Caleb. Caleb, whose eyes are glued to his spell book even in the dark, with only the flicker of the fire and the soft glow of his lights helping him read.
He’s not just reading tonight, though. Jester sees the inkwell at his feet, and there’s the distinct scratch of nib on parchment joining his usual routine.
Now she’s really wondering how long it will take him to blink, being as engrossed as he is in his work, so she keeps staring.
It turns out that too much is happening for Jester to keep looking just at his eyes. The spell book is laying on his crossed legs, and his right hand just keeps moving, drawing shapes in the air that occasionally spark and leave faint traces of light. Every time something like that happens, and it happens a lot, he hunches over, writes something down, and immediately goes back to casting quietly to himself.
He reaches a point where the glyph in the air doesn’t show any instability, and Jester wonders how long it’s actually been since she started watching him. Yeah, she’s noticed that he always pours over his book before sleeping, and for so long she just thought it was because he liked reading. She didn’t think he was studying. She’s just glad the Traveler asks for faith and mischief instead of essays in exchange for magic.
It’s pretty clear Caleb doesn’t mind working for his magic, tho. He’s started casting again now, and Jester has to blink the sleep out of her eyes because she’s sure she’s not seeing things right anymore— until now he was casting with his other hand, and using his left to write, but now the quill was in his right hand, tracing lines on the page with the steadiness of a surgeon.
How did she never notice before? He does usually study in his own room when they’re resting indoors, but still! She’s an artist, these are the things that she should notice before anyone else!
She goes back to staring at him with newfound interest. She squints, even, doing her best to catch any stuttering in his handwriting or his casting, fueled by curiosity. How many things has she been missing out on just because it’s become so normal to see him study?
There’s moments, when his hand stills in the air and stops shimmering, where he softens his whole expression and runs the feather of his pen along his lips, and Jester almost thinks he looks relaxed. It suits him, when there’s no deep crease between his eyebrows, and she wonders if she could ever look that calm while she draws. She’s all wide strokes and weird faces, nothing like the wizard sitting on the opposite side of the fire.
There’s a squawk from Nott that snaps her out of her trance, and for a moment Jester realizes how engrossed she had been into this observation session. She’s deconstructed all the layers of clothing she can see, from the gloves to the shirt that makes the little diamond shape when it’s buttoned, and how the size of the coat makes him look even thinner than he is.
His current disheveled state doesn’t take anything away from how non-Caleb he looks right now. While he is, obviously, still fully dedicated to his book, there’s no sign of the usual tenseness in his shoulders, and that grimace that makes it look like he’s always scowling isn’t there at all. He’s mouthing at his thumb in deep thought, and Jester is suddenly reminded of things that belong between the walls of the Chateau. Things that definitely don’t fit the campfire mood, and things that she would never have associated with him— humble hand kisses and compliant nods when someone parts your lips with their fingers, or the chalky feeling of candy at the corners of your mouth.
She shakes herself out of it, feeling her face grow warm, and she looks up, to the starry sky and the moons, only briefly flitting her eyes over to him. Oh, oh, he’s tilted his head now, and the hair that he’s tucked behind his ears glows in the firelight, and she swears it almost looks like he’s on fire himself.
He’s so… peculiar, is the adjective she settles on, not wanting to think too hard about how magical he looks with his eyes aglow from whatever runes he’s mumbling under his breath.
The clap of the book being closed makes her let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and her face still feels warm when the Mighty Nein decide it’s finally time to sleep, when she reaches for her own special book and starts sharing her day with the Traveller.
Jester makes sure to dip her nib in the red ink first.
