A Little Companion (A Kalicred Short)
Title: A Little Companion AU: Woven Souls OC: Kal'istae Miurani NPC: Thancred Waters Timeline: Post-Endwalker, shortly before patch 6.2 Synopsis: Waiting for Kal'istae to return from whatever adventure G'raha Tia had taken her on, Thancred finds himself at loose ends. While sorting through the supplies in his wife's craft room, he takes it upon himself to finish a project he'd been waiting years for. Inspired by this amazing artwork by @lemon-plort
Thancred was at loose ends, and he didn’t much like the feeling. Normally he’d be in Garlemald right now, sticking to the shadows and helping clear out some of the bandits that had begun infesting the place after the fall of the capital, but he’d told Kal’istae he’d remain available. She’d had something she was looking into with G’raha Tia, but once she was done, she intended to take him back to the First.
Back to their daughter.
And wasn’t that still a kick in the ass. He had a daughter. Not an adopted daughter, like Minfilia, like Ryne, but his daughter, born of him and his beloved Kal’istae.
His fingers flexed as he remembered the weight of her in his hands - so tiny, so delicate, so absolutely perfect. She’d looked up at him with eyes already a misty gold, the tiny horn nubs jutting from her temples, the stubby tail swishing against his hands, and she’d wailed her anger at being thrust into the cold world.
He’d held her as they’d stabilized Kal’istae, as they’d cleaned her up, as they’d taken care of all that happened after the miracle. Ryne had come, wrapped her in a blanket, and Gaia had steered him to a chair, gently pressed him down. He’d barely been cognizant of any of it, every ounce of his being focused on that tiny, angry angel in his hands. Later, he’d crept back into the room as Kal’istae and their daughter slept. He’d peered down into the cradle where his daughter - sweet Minyda, named for Minfilia, for Moenbryda - slept, tiny lips pursed and suckling as she dreamed. “Thancred.” Kal’istae’s soft voice, little more than a whisper, had drawn him to her side; nothing but his wife could have torn him away from that sleeping miracle. She’d smiled sleepily up at him. “Look at you. My big, strong husband, so befuddled by a tiny baby.” He’d felt the tips of his ears grow red. “Kali.” Her laugh had been soft and gentle, teasing rather than mocking. “Come here,” she’d coaxed, reaching for him. “There’s enough room in here for both of us.” “I don’t want to hurt you…” She’d tugged again, harder, and he stumbled forward. “I’ll be fine, love, once I’m in your arms.” How was he supposed to resist her? Skirting around to the other side of the bed, he’d climbed in and slid his arms around her, holding her tight. Wrapped around his love, her heartbeat and his mingling in his breast, he’d slept, contentedly exhausted.
Now Kal’istae was absent again, and Minyda back on the First, in the care of her older sisters. He’d wanted to bring her home, but his wife had flat-out refused. “I’d rather leave her with Ryne and Gaia and Lyna than risk her here. They can protect her. Who here could give such a guarantee?”
He couldn’t argue. On the First, no one would dare disturb them. Back on the Source? It was a daily chore to fend off the requests for help - and inevitable that one would come they could not refuse. And who would they trust to protect their daughter - the daughter of the Warrior of Light - against those who might seek to strike against her mother?
But now he was at loose ends. He daren’t head to Garlemald lest he get tangled up in something and not be free for when Kal’istae returned. And though she’d invited him along, he felt Raha had deserved some of her time - especially since he had no idea why she’d been absent for so long.
So here he was in the house they shared, unfettered. Free. Bored.
Aimless, he wandered from room to room, searching for anything to do. He thought to clean, but the house was in fine shape. He thought to read, but found himself too restless to focus on the words. Perhaps a spot of exercise?
He wandered past Kal’istae’s work room, then paused and backtracked, peering in. Rolls of cloth, skeins of thread, yalms and yalms of beads and gems were scattered casually about the small space; the Warrior may keep the rest of the house clean, but her own personal office was always just shy of a disaster zone. She claimed she knew where everything was, and he saw no reason to disbelieve her…
But he had no idea how she could work in there.
Still, he wandered in, catching the scent of her as he crossed the threshold. Lavender and starflowers and just a hint of sage; the scent of his wife’s hair, her skin, her soul. He inhaled deeply as he drifted in a wide circle, studying the stacked shelves, the overflowing tables.
A bolt of cloth caught his eye; indigo plush wool. Frowning thoughtfully, he stole closer and fingered it. Nearby, he could see purple silks, gold chains, dripping crystals. There was silver thread and a box of glass eyes, two of which he noted had lavender rings.
Had she been preparing to finally fulfill his wish?
He ran his eyes over the worktable and caught sight of some half-hidden papers. Pulling them free, he opened them up, spreading them out across the laden table. As he thought, it was the pieces of a pattern, a pattern for a particular plush doll. He could recognize his wife’s work anywhere, and realized, with a lifting of his spirits, that she had indeed drawn up plans for a Kali doll, just as he’d been asking her to for years.
But when would she have time to finish it?
He studied the plans, noting how neatly she’d written all of the measurements. Using this pattern and the attached itemization, he realized he could probably make the plush. It wouldn’t be as professional as the ones Kali made - but it felt… right… that he should be the one to make the plush of her, just as she’d made the plush of him that was currently sitting on their bed.
But there was no way he could work in this chaos. With a quiet apology to his wife that he had no doubt she heard across their shared soulbond, he set to cleaning up her office.
------------------
Once everything was straightened and put away, Thancred selected the materials he needed and set them upon the now-empty worktable. First, a proper length of indigo plush, soft and elastic and strong - just like the woman who had purchased it. He thought of all of the times he’d sat here, watching her work.
First, he used a tracing wheel to carefully outline each of the pattern pieces, pricking tiny holes into the thin, crackling paper. Not every piece, yet - the horns, the tail, the scales, all of these would be done in an obsidian-shaded suede, and that he would save until later - but the body, the head, these would be done in that rich indigo plush.
Once he had traced the patterns with the tracing wheel, he laid them upon the plush, then went over them with a bag of loose chalk, gently tapping it along the pricked lines. This would, he knew, outline the pattern upon the cloth, making it easier for him to cut and stitch it. He could have, of course, used the pattern directly, but he didn’t want to waste his wife’s hard work - and if he messed up, she would be able to fix it.
Once the pieces were traced and cut out, he arrayed them on the workbench. Closing his eyes, he thought back to the countless nights he’d sat in here, perched upon the chair she’d placed for him, reading a book, studying reports, and simply basking in the calm and quiet of being together with Kal’istae. He focused upon those memories of her hands, remembering the steps she’d taken, the moves she’d made.
His own hands began to move, cutting, basting, stitching. Slowly, the doll began to come to life beneath his clever fingers, a plump mannequin of indigo plush, obsidian suede, and silver thread. The hardest part, he found, was stitching the star-like freckles that covered his lover’s body. He knew exactly where each one was; the gods knew he’d spent enough time tracing constellations among them to be able to map them true to life.
But stitching stars in silver thread was harder than he’d expected, and by the time he was done, his fingers ached from the tiny pinpricks he’d endured from the needle. But she was sewn up tight, all but the hole through which he’d feed the stuffing. He took hold of the fluffy cotton batting Kal’istae used on her specialty plushes and began to feed it into the dall, watching it plump up. Kali’s tiny hand could easily fit inside, allowing her to place the cotton precisely; Thancred had to depend on a rod with a comb-like head to do the job.
Soon, he had himself a plump - and naked - doll. Turning it over in his hands, he studied the glitter of the stitched silver stars, the lay of the suede scales, the midnight-blue hair he’d painstakingly threaded into the doll’s head, then braided together. Sure, the stitches were somewhat crooked and there were a few places where the seams didn’t quite match up - but it wouldn’t look terribly out of place among Kal’istae’s more professional creations.
At least, he didn’t think so.
All that was left was to find clothes for it. He couldn’t hope to mimic any of Kal’istae’s intricate outfits; silk and leather and lace, all draping and flowing and elegant. In the end, he took some lavender cotton cloth, some denim, and an applique star and made a simplistic approximation of one of her casual outfits. He dressed her, then set her upon the bench to give her one last examination.
And cursed. One of her eyes was missing.
He searched the bench, scooping up piles of scraps and remnants to see if perhaps it had rolled under them. He got down on his hands and knees, crawling upon the floor to see if he could catch a glint of it. Coming up empty handed, he instead dove into the eye box to find another eye with a lavender limbal ring.
And there were none to be found.
Maybe he could make her an eyepatch, like the cloth he wore once upon a time? But she had never, to his knowledge, worn one.
Damn it! Where was that eye?
In the end, he dithered over which eye could replace it - though none of them had the signature lavender limbal ring that Kal’istae sported. He almost chose a plain blue eye when a box of buttons caught his eye.
Maybe…
------------------
“Thancred.” Despite the exhaustion he could feel from her, Kal’istae’s voice was laced with laughter. “I know you’re eager, but I just want to bathe and change and eat something right now. Let me get some of my energy back before you start trying to trip me into bed.”
His hands were everywhere, and her clothing didn’t stand a chance. By the time he’d backed her into their bedroom, her gear was littering the floor, and his own had mostly followed. “It doesn’t have to be bed. We’ve proven over and over that the bath is more than big enough for the both of us.”
Her tired laughter rang again and she squirmed out of his grasp, grabbing at the post of the bed to spin herself out of his reach. “You may join me,” she allowed, “but I want to get clean before you go to the trouble of getting me all dirty again.”
He reached for her eagerly, then skittered to a halt when she suddenly gasped. “What? What is it! Are you hurt, Kali?”
Her lavender-edged eyes were round as she skirted around the side of the bed and reached out, picking up the plush he’d laid on his pillow. “Where did you get this?” she demanded. “Thancred, I told you I’d make one eventually…”
“I made it,” he said quietly, and stopped her cold.
Blinking, the plush in her hands, she peered up at him. “You? You made it?”
Scowling, he tried to shove his hands in his pockets, only to remember that his pants, like the rest of his clothing, were strewn across the living room. “Yes. I saw the plans in your office and I thought maybe, since you’d written them out so well, I could do it for you. As a… surprise. After all,” he quipped weakly, trying to recover the mood, “why should both of us be lonely?”
Lips shut tight, Kal’istae turned her attention to the plush in her hands, turning it over and over, studying it carefully. “You did an amazing job,” she said finally, and he could feel nothing but surprised pleasure from her no matter how deep he delved into her heart. “Thancred, I’m genuinely impressed. You never expressed any interest in learning a craft before this.”
“Only that once,” he told her. “My fingertips still ache.”
Kal’istae smiled at him over the top of the doll’s head, then reached out and rubbed her finger over the button eye he’d sewn on. “I thought I had two lavender eyes.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “You… did.”
“Ah.” Gently, she laid it upon the bed, then tugged her Thancred plush over until they were cuddled together. “Come here, my love,” she murmured, holding her arms out to him. Nothing loath, he reached for her, drawing her into his embrace, and walked her backwards towards the bath. She allowed him to lift her up and set her gently in the water, then reached out to him again as he sank in beside her. “I missed you, my own,” she murmured.
“And I you, Bright Eyes,” he replied, bending his head to kiss her.
On the bed, the plushies embraced, oblivious to the goings on in the bath, together.
