Fjord: [To Beau] And why would we have come running in at the first yelp? [âŠ] Why would we have come running in?
Beau: Because we care about each other.
Fjord: Oh, fucking shit, we do? Amazing, does that apply to you as well?
Beau: (mumbling) I donât know.
Fjord: Oh, I think it does. (laughter) Donât do that again.
Caleb: Donât do that again.
Beau: I guess.
Steve is intimately familiar with jealousy in a way he doesn't think most people are. He's been left before, replaced. He knows the burning, bile-inducing sensation of seeing your person with somebody else.
He is still absolutely blindsided by it when Eddie tells him that he's going to Indy the following weekend to meet his previous hookup from a few weeks ago.
Eddie is not his. Eddie can do with his time, with his body, with his feelings, whatever he wants. There's not a single reason in the whole of the universe for Steve to feel jealous.
And, still, knowing the feeling so well, having endured it for so long, he knows there's no other explanation for it.
It's jealousy that makes him snap at Robin when she makes a remark on how the humidity has made his hair explode into untameable curls.
It's jealousy that has him stewing in front of the TV that night with a bottle of lukewarm beer crushed between his knees. Jealousy that has him take a too-hot turned too-cold shower, and scrub his skin until it's an angry red. Jealousy that has him staring at the ceiling at night, kicking at his blanket.
Jealousy, the green-eyed monster that lurks in the dark corner of his bedroom. Jealousy that twists his stomach into a tight knot.
It's worse the next day, when Eddie's around the WSQK, going through their vinyl collection, planning a special late-night rock show together with Robin for all the freaks in Hawkins.
Steve's not done much to expose how he really feels yet, beyond flicking through a magazine about cars or some shit, occasionally frowning in their direction.
But it comes to a head when Robin leaves first to get ready for her date with Vickie and asks Steve to close up the station after Eddie. Eddie's being his usual chaotic self, pulling out Vinyl after Vinyl and taking them out of their sleeves without putting them back properly, forcing Steve to grumblingly clean up after him while Eddie rattles down the entire history of rock ' n ' roll.
When Eddie leans against one of the shelves with his shoulders, gesturing wildly with his arms while rambling about how Elvis was a truck driver before he became a star, Steve ruffs his hair in frustration, combs it back, then pins Eddie down with a glare.
"Do you ever shut up, dude?" he scathingly asks. Eddie's grin falters, his hands falling to his side.
"Seriously," Steve mutters, turns away because he can't stand seeing that hurt in Eddie's large eyes, "You should come with an off-button."
"What- What's crawled up your butt?" Eddie asks, but he sounds more shocked than angry.
"Nothing," Steve throws back, taking the Vinyls he's just put back in order and sliding them into the shelf next to where Eddie's still standing, frozen. "You're just a lot, man. Not really in the mood to babysit your loud ass every night."
He glances at Eddie from the corner of his eye, sees him clench his jaw, nodding along to Steve's words. They've been bickering before, made fun of each other, but never like this, never with any serious intent to hurt the other.
Steve feels like a prick. He wishes Eddie would just punch him, hurl something back at Steve that would hurt just as much.
"Yeah," Eddie says, laughs an almost inaudible, "Christ," to himself before pushing off the shelves. "I just get out of your hair then, Harrington." Another humorless laugh. "Ha, hair, get it?"
Steve doesn't. Steve doesn't get anything anymore. Especially not himself, and how he can act so carelessly with somebody else's feelings. Again.
He's the worst friend. Hasn't learned any of his lessons.
"Eddie," he calls at his retreating back. "You're not getting out of here before you clean up your mess."
Not what he wants to say, but god, he's still so angry.
Eddie throws him the bird over his shoulder and keeps walking.
"Munson!" Steve bellows, storming after him. He shoves Eddie's shoulder when he catches up with him at the entrance doors. Eddie stumbles around and shoves him back with a palm against his chest, hard. And, yes, fuck that's what he wants, Eddie angry, furious, pushing into his space, breathing hard.
"Don't be a fucking brat," Steve seethes.
"How about you stop being such a dick, then?"
Steve wrinkles his nose, steps in closer. Eddie backs away, colliding with the door behind him. His eyes widen, but Steve doesn't back off, gets right into his space, curling his fingers into the collar of his shirt.
"Jesus, Harrington. You're really itching for a fight tonight, aren't you?"
"Yeah," Steve agrees, sees no point in denying it. "Will you give me one?"
Eddie frowns at that, eyes flickering down to Steve's parted lips where he's panting. Then his hands come around Steve's wrists, and he's pushed backwards, sideways, shoved right into the wall next to the doors, Eddie's rings biting into his skin. Steve grunts at the impact, pulls harder on Eddie's shirt, lifts his chin in defiance.
"You're gonna explain the bruises to Henderson, then?" Eddie growls, and Steve can't help but remember the time he had him pushed against the boathouse, broken bottle at his neck, Steve's heart racing, running away from him, just like now, and still different.
"You're gonna mess me up, Munson?"
"Only if you keep running your mouth," Eddie says, even lower, eyes flicking down again, fingers tightening around Steve's wrists, callouses pressed right into his throbbing pulse in a way that almost hurts.
"Do your worst, asshole," Steve hurls back, tugging so hard on Eddie's shirt collar that a seam pops.
Eddie seems at a loss for words, his frown deepening. Then, he pushes a thigh between Steve's, tilting his head.
"This is what you want?" He pushes his thigh higher, high enough that it comes in contact with where Steve is rapidly hardening, chokes all the air out of his lungs.
He shakes his head, and Eddie's about to move away, eyes troubled with regret, but Steve puts his jock reflexes to good use and grabs him with hands on both sides of Eddie's face. He pulls him back in, muffles the gasping moan that flies from Eddie's mouth with his lips, and kisses him hard.
Eddie gives back as good as he gets, hands still locked around Steve's wrists like a vice, bruising him with a kiss that feels more like an extension of their fight than any confession.
When Eddie's teeth dig a little too hard into Steve's bottom lip, he pushes him away again with a hand against his shoulder.
Eddie looks completely dazed, pupils blown to shit, brows still knitted together.
"What the fuck is even happening right now?" he asks, sounds less angry and more anxious now.
"Don't go to Indy," Steve blurts, then pulls himself away, so he doesn't have to look at Eddie for the fallout of that declaration. He turns away from him and thumps the side of his head against the wall. "Fuck, I'm the worst."
He can't believe how impulsive he still is, that nothing ever brings out the worst in him more than fearing that the person he wants could want somebody else.
Did he just let Nancy go, so he could make the same mistake with the next person he's... he's- well, no point denying it anymore- falling in love with?
"Steve."
Steve cringes, keeps his eyes shut tight. He doesn't want to look at Eddie after making an absolute fool out of himself.
"Jesus Christ, Harrington, you're unbelievable."
Steve shrugs, can't bring himself to answer. Where's Robin to slap him over the head with some sense when he needs her?
He waits for Eddie to leave his stupid ass like he deserves, waits for the telltale sound of the glass door sliding open, then shut, but it never comes. When he finally opens his eyes, Eddie's right in front of him again, leaning sideways against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest, mouth open wide in a shit-eating grin.
"So, this is your jealous side?" he asks, grin growing even wider.
"My worst side," Steve huffs, scrubs his hands over his face in embarrassment. Eddie catches his wrists again and pulls his hands away.
"Cute."
"You're unhinged if you think that was cute."
"Yeah, what a couple we make, huh?" Eddie laughs, then his mouth is back on Steve's, softening their fight into something warmer, gentler, until finally it feels like the confession it was meant to be from the start.
This is a very long (10 chapter) Caleb Widogast x GN Reader fic. Canonically, the main character is NB, but I've tried my best to write this in a way that feels natural, and still written for you regardless of your own personal pronouns.
[RE: SPOILERS] If you have only watched the animated series, which currently only has one episode released, this entire series will be spoilers from Chapter 1. For CR watchers/listeners - Since this fic's subsequent chapters take place over the entire campaign, from episode 33 to 141, and is canonical to the best of my ability, spoilers are inevitable at some point. The number and title of the episode that the chapter takes place in are in each description BUT if youâre not caught up, please proceed with extreme caution.
Set in Critical Role C2E33 (The Ruby and the Sapphire); Jesterâs friend from home with a bit of mysterious past meets the Mighty Nein when they visit Nicodranas for the first time since Jesterâs departure, and Caleb finds himself intrigued by the strange tattoos they bear on their chest.
WC: 4511
A/N: For this first chapter, I'm tagging everyone who expressed interest in this fic in some manner simply because its been so long since I originally posted about it. If you're no longer interested, dw, I won't tag you in the next release unless you ask me to in replies or inbox!
âIâm bored...â the blue tiefling complained.
You rolled your eyes. âThen think of something to do,â you offered unhelpfully.
Jester groaned. âWhy is that my job?â
You shrugged and picked at the leftovers youâd snagged from the kitchen after close. âThatâs our thing. You think of something dumb to do, and I say okay.â
A moment passed before Jester sat up in her bed and brought her hands to her face, giggling. âIâve got it.â
You smirked. âOkay.â
Your life in Nicodranas after Jester left was dull, each day more so than the last. Morning after morning, you arose before dawn to ready your pastry shop for the breakfast crowd in silence. It had been months since Jester had found herself on the wrong side of that insufferable Lord Whatever-the-fuck and had to flee without so much as a goodbye. No longer did you have a mischievous tiefling to drag you around the city in the dead of night and make trouble, and gods, did you miss her.
Your thoughts wandered as you kneaded the dough before you. It was to be bear claws; perhaps thatâs why she was on your mind at the moment. Just as you added your signature dash of cinnamon, there was a gentle knock at the back door of the shop. It was entirely too early for customers to be showing up, and the millerâs boy wasnât set to arrive with your flour delivery for a few more days. Your brow furrowed as you wiped your hands on your apron.
As you contemplated, the gentle knocking escalated to harsh rapping until you called out, âWho is it?â
A gruff voice answered back, âItâs the Zhelezo, open up!â
You huffed â the Zhelezo had been by a few times since Jester left, presumably at that Lordâs ârequestâ to make sure Jester hadnât been hiding out with you, but months later? This was ridiculous.
âIâm a very busy person, and this intrusion is entirely unwarranted. What could you possibly want from me?!â you all but shouted as you swung the door open. But rather than being met with a few Zhelezo as advertised, the sight before you was a short, dark-skinned human girl. Confusion twisted your expression into knots as the girl brought one hand up and curled her fingers in a contrite wave.
âMorning⊠Is that cinnamon I smell?â You watched stunned as she stepped past you through the door and made a beeline for the oven, pulling the door open to get a good whiff of the finishing biscuits.
Your heart stopped when you realized this girl was armed, but then a familiar playful smile crossed her face. âWhat, donât you recognize your best freakinâ friend ever?â She twirled dramatically and when she stopped, she was herself again.
Tears welled in your eyes as the realization struck you. âJester!â you shrieked, closing the distance between you in two steps and wrapping your arms around her shoulders. Jesterâs giggle spilled from her lips and she hugged back tightly, her strong arms nearly bruising your ribs. âGods, girl! Where have you been? Iâve been so worried!â
âLike, seriously, all over!â
âW-wow! All over, huh? Thatâs quite the journey.â She nodded feverishly and began scouting the kitchen for something to eat. âWait, we?â
âOh, yeah! I made lots of friends out there. We travel all over and help people and kill stuff! Itâs really cool. Theyâre waiting out front.â She gestured to the front door of your shop with one hand and stuck the fingers of her other in the fresh bowl of icing.
You laughed and made your way to the door as Jester began packing herself a box of goodies like sheâd never left.
Upon swinging open the door, you were met with a tuft of bright pink chest hair. Before you could manage a word, the furry figure stepped past you into the small dining area. âOh, wow, this is- this is just great.â The figure inhaled deeply and seemed to follow his nose to the counter.
Trailing in behind him, you found a handsome half-orc, who greeted you with a wide smile and introduced himself as Fjord as he passed. The next to follow was a lean, muscular figure with her arms crossed who gave a small nod and muttered, âSup?" It was⊠hard for you to imagine this woman befriending the bubbly, garish tiefling, but you knew if Jester had set her mind to it, even someone this rough around the edges would fall victim to that impish charm.
When you turned back to the door, there seemed to be one figure left standing outside, nervously wringing his hands in your doorway.
âAre you coming or what, Caleb?â Jester shouted from the kitchen with a full mouth.
The eyes that stared back at you shone like the shallow part of the ocean, where the sun glitters all the way to the bottom. As they flickered across the intricate pale green shapes covering your chest, you took stock of the man before you; he wore a long, torn leather jacket, fur lining stained, and it was ill fitting for his slight frame. Lean and lanky, he was still a half head taller than you. His hands looked calloused, and oddly a bit charred. Dirt was caked under his fingernails, and a mess of auburn hair sat atop his head, falling charmingly into his face. A wiry ginger beard sprouted from a deceptively strong jaw line, begging to be trimmed.
Another half moment passed before he cleared his throat. âO-oh, uh. Yes, so long as that is alright with you, friend?â His accent was soft, but still dripping from nearly every word. It reminded you of your motherâs.
Jester snorted as she made her way into the front of the shop. âYes, friend, is it alright?â She raised her eyebrows at you. She hadnât felt the need to ask your permission for just about anything in a long time.
You laughed and gestured to the open tables. âYes, of course. Any friend of Jesterâs is a friend of mine.â Caleb, as you had learned he was called, smiled sheepishly and ducked past you to join the rest of his friends.
Just as you were about to shut the door, a small shadow darted in behind him, disappearing into the group of visitors. You looked to Jester in a panic. âDid you see that?!â
She smiled back at you, batting her eyelashes innocently. âSee what?â
Caleb was the one to break your stunned silence. âMy apologies. I would have hoped Jester might tell you what to expect from this bunch, but there is still one introduction to be made...â He stepped to the side and looked down.
You followed his eye line, and there, clutching Calebâs jacket in their hands, stood a small figure, about half Calebâs height. Two piercing yellow eyes leered at you from behind a porcelain mask and you felt terror well up in your chest.
It must have been evident in your expression, because Jester said, âReally, itâs okay!â She reached around you to push the front door shut, and her voice dropped to a whisper. âSheâs a good goblin!â
You instinctively took a step back, hesitant to accept that there was such a thing. Growing up in the Zemni Fields, you'd heard many horrifying tales, mostly first hand accounts from your mother.
âShe is called Nott,â Caleb began. âShe has been through much, but has a good heart. I can assure you no harm will come to you by Nottâs hand. Or anyone here, for that matter.â He gestured to all of the strangers before you. Sincerity was written across his soot-smeared face, even as his brow furrowed with concern at your reaction.
âI-I suppose⊠itâs nice to meet you, Nott.â Your voice quivered a bit despite your best efforts.
âItâs nice to meet you, too, Pastry Person.â Her voice was hoarse, but she at least spoke Common. You supposed that was something to her credit.
âAre you all hungry? I can perhaps put on some tea?â You suggested, unsure if scones would satisfy this crowd.
âThat would be great,â the tall mass of pink fur responded with a broad, lazy smile.
Jester patted your cheek. âSee, guys? I told you itâd be fine.â She dropped into a seat, and the other followed suit. âOh, this is so wonderful!â she said, âOld friends meeting new, I get to see Mama soon, and the weather is so nice today!â Jester sighed contentedly and clapped her hands together.
You learned much over the course of the next few hours, deciding to leave the shop closed for the day and instead spend some much needed social time with this strange troop brought to your doorstep. You learned the tuft of pink was called Caduceus, and the one who had âassholeâ written across her face was Beau. She turned out to be far more sociable than appearances would suggest, and you wondered how much of her unapproachable demeanor was intentional.
By the time the sun rose, you had received a full, if a bit scattered recounting of Jesterâs time away from home. Caleb took over the bits detailing her kidnapping and the subsequent rescue mission, and for that you were grateful. Had you not known through the entire telling that she was right there next to you, home and safe, you surely would have had a conniption.
When conversation finally reached a lull, Jester asked Caleb for the time.
âIt is about 10:47,â he responded, in spite of the shuttered windows.
âOh, good! Mama should definitely be awake by now. Are you all ready to meet her?â
The group murmured a confirmation, and Caduceus downed the remainder of his third cup of tea.
Jester turned back to you, smile brightening her face. âMama should be performing tonight. Wanna come?â
~
After Marion was formally introduced, Caleb, Nott and Beau retired to one of the rooms that she had arranged for the Nein in search of a bit of quiet after a long journey. At least, thatâs what Caleb was after.
He settled onto the bed and detached one of the books at his side, beginning to mimic the shapes heâd seen in your glowing tattoo.
Beau, peering over his shoulder, chuckled. âThat looks familiar.â
âAs it should.â He continued sketching as Nott approached for a peek. âThese markings that Jesterâs friend bears are⊠very unique.â He finished up the sketch of the parts he recognized and began vague approximations of the shapes he didnât with a lighter hand.
âGimme the pen, youâre forgetting something,â Nott said, small green hand reaching out.
âImpossible,â Caleb responded, but gave her the pen regardless.
Just above his own sketch, Nott drew two curved, mirrored lines. Below his sketch, she did the same, these vertical, creating the vague approximation of the body that wore the tattoo. âI think this is maybe what youâre most concerned with.â She continued with unnecessary detail, and when he realized what she was getting at, Caleb flushed.
Beau laughed heartily. âYeah, me too honestly.â
Caleb snatched the pen from Nottâs grip. âHeathens,â he muttered, flipping the page and beginning his sketch anew.
~
The Lavish Chateau was always a bit of an enigma to you. You knew its purpose, and youâd even lived there a short time, but that was years ago, and your shop and home were now in the Skew, what Marion would politely call the âaffordableâ part of Nicodranas. The truth was, it was a bit of a shit hole, at least compared to the Opal Archways. And no matter how well you fit the bill or played the part, it always seemed to you that the privileged denizens of the Opal Archways had a sixth sense for, well, âthe poors.â
You smoothed down the simple black fabric youâd chosen for the evening and fought the lump in your throat. Jester bought this for you for a date years ago, and youâd certainly⊠aged since then. The fabric, thankfully, had a bit of a give, and even though you felt cramped in the first formal article youâd donned in a long time, it did its job to make you presentable.
Gazing up at the intricate stonework, you felt no more welcome now than ever before, despite the explicit invitation. Eventually, you willed your feet to move, and they did, carrying you up the steps and into the darkly lit interior of the Lavish Chateau.
Only a few scattered patrons were already seated for the eveningâs performance. Your new friends werenât among them, but you could faintly hear Jesterâs excited chattering echoing down the upstairs hall and followed the trail. Bluud nodded and stepped aside as you approached. You continued with a passing thanks before knocking at Marionâs door.
The hinges squealed as it opened a sliver, only Jesterâs bright eyes visible through the space. âMamaâs mostly naked right now. Go wait with the others.â A small blue finger poked out from behind the door just long enough to point to the room opposite Marionâs before it abruptly closed again and you heard the chattering resume.
âAlâŠright,â you said to yourself before spinning on your heel and repeating the process on the next door. This time, Beau was the one to answer.
âOh, hey..â she greeted awkwardly.
âUh, heyâŠâ
âWhatâs up?â She asked coolly. She shifted her weight to lean against the door as she spoke and the door, predictably, moved with her weight, causing her to lose her footing, if only for a moment before the ki flowing through her balanced the awkward monk.
âJester said I should wait with you guys.â
âOh! Yeah, that makes sense. Câmon in, I think weâre getting ready to head down. Get in a lilâ pregaming before the show.â She chuckled to herself and closed the door behind you as you wandered in.
The plush velvet curtains that matched the deep maroon of the bedspread were pulled back, revealing a large window on the far side of the room. The last of the sunâs hazy rays poured through the window, illuminating the dancing dust particles that filled the space. The same beautiful dark hardwood that ran throughout the Chateau continued here, mostly hidden by an ornate rug that ran the length of the room. Sitting squat in the center of the bed was Caleb, lost in a book that seemed to have no title. Nott sat curled up in the armchair in the corner, twirling a crossbow bolt between her fingers like a baton.
Beau took a seat at the edge of the bed, startling the focused wizard briefly. âSo, uh⊠where ya from?â
âIâve been in Nicodranas for years, close to a decade by now. But my family is from Yrrosa.â
âOh, nice⊠I think I know where that is. Kinda near Kamordah, right?â You nodded noncommittally. Kamordah was on the other side of a mountain you could hardly see from home, but still in the Empire, at least. Beau coughed in the pause that followed. âWhat brought you to Nicodranas?â
The circumstances of your move, if you could call it that, werenât something you spoke about often, and usually only thought about on the worst of nights.
âWellâŠâ Images of your last night in Yrrosa crossed your mind. You once again felt the snap of your back, and your eyes stung at the memory of the blood that had poured from your head.
There was a time when these thoughts would have sent you spiraling. And while your pulse did quicken, this casual question was one youâd been asked many times over the years. âI-I lost my family...â you stuttered.
âOh, shitâŠâ Beau said, crossing her arms in front of her. âSorry.â
âIt was a long time ago,â you smiled politely, trying to break the tension.
Caleb snapped his book shut, maybe sensing your discomfort. For his part, he certainly didnât want to be talking about dead parents. âLet us go drink, ja?â
~
By the time Marionâs performance came to a close, you had had enough to put down a small Minotaur. Beau kept drinks coming throughout the show, and initially, you had nursed the beverages as the Zemnian beside you had. But something about this situation made you incredibly nervous. As if you were on display. You couldnât pinpoint what, whether it be the atmosphere or the hour, or even the simple fact that you were surrounded by strangers. Either way, your apprehension paved the way for a bit of drunkenness.
When Jester noticed youâd had a few, she kindly offered to find a room at the Chateau for you to stay in, but you brushed her off. âI appreciate it, but Iâd rather sleep in my own bed tonight.â
Jesterâs brow furrowed a moment, and she looked like she was about to protest before Caleb interrupted.
âJesterâs concerns are earnest,â he stated simply. âWould you allow me to escort you home?â Heâd had his eye on you all night, waiting for an opportunity. Not that youâd noticed.
You watched Jesterâs expression shift from petulance to confusion, and then in a moment, to a semblance of clarity. Or perhaps it was suspicion. You were just a bit too drunk to be sure.
âYâknow what? I think thatâs a wonderful idea, Caleb,â Jester answered for you, eyes locked intently on him.
Caleb cleared his throat, and you swore for a moment that even in the low light of the dining room, you saw his ears turn pink. âYes, well, thenâŠIf you will,â he said, turning away from Jester and motioning to the door.
The prospect of company, especially that of this caliber, was not unwelcome. As you stepped into the crisp, seaside night, relief washed over you, not only with the cooling breeze, but because the judging eyes youâd been avoiding all night were now behind thick doors. You took a deep breath at the top of the steps, enjoying the briny taste of the air.
âI hate to admit that I donât know the way to your home,â Caleb spoke up from behind you.
âFunny thing for an escort to say,â you joked, glancing back at him to catch the faintest glimpse of a crooked smile.
âYes, no doubt,â he said, stepping up to stand beside you. âHowever, I can promise if you show me just once, I will remember forever.â
âForever is quite a long time, ZemnianâŠâ you trailed off, beginning your descent of the stairs.
âWahrer als du denkst,â he responded, following at your side, âBut thisâŠâ he reached up to tap his temple. âThis isâŠâ He clicked his tongue and turned an invisible key.
That phrase was one you knew well, a Zemnian saying your mother used. âMore true than you know,â or at least, thatâs what your father said it meant after she passed.
âI see,â you responded, pausing at the bottom of the stairs to wait for a break in the crowd. Despite the hour, there were still scattered whirls of activity through the streets of the Opal Archways. âThat must come in handy when you Nein are out and about. Especially with someone, and I say this with all love possible for another, as⊠flighty as Jester.â
This earned you a soft chuckle. âYes, very much so. And the monk you met, Beauregard? She is an excellent note taker. Carries around as many books as I do, filled with mostly coherent observations. We donât miss a thing.â
The bustle outside the Chateau subsided and you continued down the cobblestone roads, Caleb keeping pace.
âA blessing and a curse in your line of work, Iâd imagine,â you mused aloud.
Caleb paused for a moment, even his step slowing. âYouâre very wise for a pastry cook.â
This time, you chuckled. âYes, wellâŠâ You shifted your gaze to the ground below you as you rounded the next corner. âSome will say wisdom comes from the Gods. Others, experience or age. But I disagree.â You felt the influence of the alcohol pushing you to be more forthcoming than usual, words tumbling from your lips as soon as they were thought up. âI donât believe wisdom is about what youâve been through⊠but rather, your ability to go on despite it all.â
Caleb let the silence hang and shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat. âDoes this belief come from your own experience?â
The gate that separated the Skew from the Opal Archways came into view in the distance. âIt does, in fact.â
âThat is quite an admirable belief. Weâve seen many broken souls in our travels, and could do nothing for them. Itâs hard to imagine them.. leading full lives, but even the hope of it is comforting.â There was something pained in his expression.
The Zhelezo at the gate hardly took notice of the two of you as you passed; it wasnât people entering the Skew that they were watching. âI have to believe it's possible. Perhaps not always on their own, but to be so far gone...â you trailed off, shaking your head.
âAnother interesting opinion,â was his simple reply. After a beat, he asked, âDo you think there are any who cannot⊠go on?â
Maybe it was just the booze, but you felt there was something more to be read between those lines. Like he was asking for himself, not for the sake of conversation.
You gave him a pointed look. âThis world makes many things difficult, but you should know better than most, wizard, that nothing is impossible.â
Caleb flashed a hollow smile. âTruly a wonderful sentiment.â
You couldnât help but feel youâd said the wrong thing. There was certainly something there to be pried out. Much like your own past, though, itâd probably take more time than you had in one moonlit walk. But Gods did you want to try.
âI have to ask about Nott,â you settled for after a few moments of awkward silence. Calebâs attention turned back to you. âHow did you end up traveling with a goblin?â
âI once would have called her a friend of circumstance, howeverâŠâ he paused, and you worried you had struck a nerve, but eventually, he continued. âI understand your apprehension, but thereâs more to Nott than meets the eye,â he answered. âShe may be a goblin, but she has risked her life for my own, and for Jesterâs and every otherâs, more times than I can count. I wonât discredit her for an accident of birth.â
You nodded, considering. Youâd never been one to judge, least of all for something out of oneâs control. âThatâs more than fair,â you decided. Tempering your fear around her was becoming less and less challenging, anyway. Especially once you realized she was almost always sloshed.
You hung a left and just ahead swung the sign for All You Knead. Reaching into the tiny, practically useless bag you brought for the evening, you produced a few keys. Approaching the door, you turned to say your goodbyes.
âThank you, Caleb. While Iâm sure I could have made a ten minute walk in my own city by myself, the company was nice.â
A small smile crept across his lips, hardly visible behind the mess of facial hair. âThe pleasure was mine.â He shifted his weight and cocked his head to the side. âCould I trouble you for one more thing? I have a bit of a curiosity, if you would indulge me.â
âWhatâs that?â you asked, a bit absent minded as you flicked through your key ring.
Caleb gestured to his own chest. âYour tattoosâŠâ he started hesitantly. âTheyâre quite lovely.â
Of course, you thought, smirking. âThank you. Youâre not the first curious wizard, you know.â
All of these conversations started the same. Marion exhausted her connections years ago trying to find someone who could tell you the nature of the glimmering, almost glowing green tattoos that stretched across your chest, throat, and shoulders, but none could. At best, they could give you an approximation of what it was probably meant to be.
âThe phrase âcurious wizardâ is a bit redundant,â he joked. âWhere did you get those?â
You sighed softly. Often, when asked, you produced some bullshit about a legendary talented artist somewhere beyond the borders of the Clovis Concord, but the truth was⊠âThatâs tricky to answer. I donât remember much of the time around when I got them.â
Caleb nodded, as if that made perfect sense. âCould IâŠ?â
âIf you believe it will sate your curiosity, be my guest.â You leaned back against your door, making yourself comfortable while Caleb began incantations you were vaguely familiar with. He stared for a moment before producing a pearl from his satchel and lightly placing it against your chest.
After a moment, his brow furrowed and he replaced the pearl. âHow oddâŠâ
You stood up straight and again began fiddling with your keys. âIsnât it?â you answered, a strange sense of pride at having stumped another wizard building.
âIt is incredibly strong abjuration magic,â he said almost to himself. âI canât get a grasp on what exactly it doesâŠâ he reached out, and hovering hardly an inch from your skin, pointed to a swirly bit in the middle. âThis here...â His finger glided to the left, above your collarbone and then to the same spot on the right, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. âAnd these, I donât recognize, but thisâŠâ His breath tickled your face as he muttered, and it sent a chill up your spine.
You glanced up to notice heâd inched closer in his inspection, and when you did, he seemed to notice himself. He stopped speaking when your eyes met, and his lips parted ever so slightly. This close, you could appreciate how stunning he actually was in spite of his lack of effort. In the low light of the night, his previously bright blue eyes looked stormy, and his eyelashes cast a long shadow over his cheeks. His hair was tucked behind both ears, a single auburn lock left to frame his face.
You heard his breath catch before Caleb took a quick step back. Only then did you note the thrumming of your heart.
âI apologize. Curious wizards often forget themselvesâŠâ
You cleared your throat and tried to slow your pulse, sure he could hear its beat. âAnything else?â
He reached up to tuck back his stray strand. âJust that whoever put this on you wanted you protected from⊠well, everything.â
You smiled. âThatâs something, at least. Given that Iâm standing here, Iâm sure itâs served me well.â
âAs am I. I would love to study it more, if you would allow. I can promise to remember personal space, should you be so generous.â
âIâll have to think on that,â you laughed, finally managing the right key. As exciting as the feeling he left you with was, it was equally terrifying, and you were eager to call it a night.
âUntil next time, then,â Caleb answered, letting the worst of his suspicions consume him.
doctor will fix me they'll do a scan and find a terrible darkness seated in my stomach and be like "oh my god we're so sorry we were supposed to remove this at birth like everyone else, i don't know how this was missed, we're so sorry you've been living like this your whole life" and it'll fix my brain too and all clouds will part
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