#'as essek soon realizes' WHO ARE YOU HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT

[spottedenchants]

sometimes the narrator of TS separates a teeny bit farther from the pov character than usual and it's always kinda jarring to me, like who are you and why are you telling me this xD

[mareastrorum]

i thought matt said essek's goal was to ingratiate himself to guide the nein away from the truth of his crime, not to kill them?

Correct! He did! I also realize looking back at my post that I didn't quite elaborate on something--mostly because I did not realize just how many people would read it. I'll take this chance to clarify a few things.

First, context. A short while ago, a post cycled a few times through my mutual group, many of whom are Essek fans/lovers/haters for various reasons, before I added in some sauce. For those who don't want to click, here's a screenshot:

Then I received an ask noting that they didn't think it was proven that Essek had given the Scourger a shiv:

Then I received another ask, which was the long post about why I thought Essek would have wanted to give the Scourger a shiv:

Which led to a bunch of other asks because, despite main tagging the characters, I didn't actually expect anyone to pay any mind to the post. I don't usually do meta posts, so I didn't anticipate all these responses. That's how we wound up here.

All that said, because my focus was on making a persuasive case for why murder was one of the options available to Essek and therefore why he had motive to ensure the Scourger had a shiv available to attack Caleb, I did not do the best job at emphasizing that murder was one of the options available. I don't think killing the Nein was the only option, the first option, or even the favored option. I think it was one of many and the Scourger just happened to be convenient.

So time to finesse. Next, yes, Matt absolutely chimed in on Essek's motivations of getting to know the Nein in the Campaign 2 Wrap-Up:

Marisha: Well, I'm curious, because-- and you've kind of loosely touched on this before-- that Essek was kind of supposed to be a bad guy, and then we made friends with him, and his heart grew three sizes that day? Matt: Yeah, you totally Grinched that motherfucker. ... Marisha: What was his plan? Matt: Essek-- Essek was designed not to be a major antagonist but an antagonistic force in the world. You guys kind of barged into the Kryn Dynasty and gave this extremely sought-after, thought-lost artifact that is intrinsic to their entire culture and religion. And as soon as you did that, Essek was like, "Well, first off, I know how they got that beacon, and I'm attached to this. I'm the one that smuggled it out, so I need to get in real close with these people and keep an eye on everything they do, because they're now the biggest loose end on my guarded person." You know, like-- like-- you know, if-- it's like committing murder and someone walks in and is like, "I found a boot in your yard," and he's like, "Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!" You guys brought this in, and he was like, "I have to get to know them well." He immediately was like, "I'll take care of them. I'll work with their business. I'll figure out what they're going, and I'll be their-- their--" you know-- Laura: Liaison. Matt: Chaperone, essentially. And so it was him just trying to cover his ass while also trying to figure out what you were up to, what your connections were, how much you knew. And then the more he got to know you guys-- because his whole goal was just to keep this thing going with the Dynasty. He was fed up with a lot of the political structure of the Dynasty, or-- come to think of it, sorry, with the-- with the Assembly. He was fed up with a lot of the Dynasty's zealotry and he doesn't really have any formal interest in the Luxon, and he thinks that it's misguided. He thinks that there's a lack of interest in seeing what Dunamancy can actually do because everything is regimented instead by the cultural history of it, and he just wants to advance to see what is possible, and he found partnership in the Assembly in that way. But you guys kept, like, inviting him over for dinner, and asking about his-- Liam: We really scrambled his eggs. Matt: Yeah! Liam: For real, when we left him, I was like, "Well, I really hope that-- I see things that I have in common with him and I empathize, but he's going to need years to unpack his shit, or he's not, or he's just going to bend back and do all the things he was doing before without us." And then the time we met up with him again, he was a changed man. Matt: Yeah. Well, he was still struggling. He didn't know who he was, and at a certain point, your guys' interaction kind of showed him that he could be better, and he was struggling with the-- with being convinced that it was too late for him. And so it was this idea of like, "I've already fucked up my entire life, and I didn't realize it until I found people that actually cared to look past my position and my abilities." And he'd been a solitary figure his whole life except for his relationship with his brother. He didn't get along with his parents. He didn't get along with most people in the Dynasty unless they helped him maintain and advance his position of power and influence, and so you guys fucked him up. ... ... a large part of his early times was just trying to deflect and misdirect and like, "Don't look at me. I'm just here. Just here paying attention. I got nothing to do with any of this. That's weird, huh?" Then the more you got to know him, he eventually let that fall away. Yeah, I was not expecting any of that.

That's all the stuff from the wrap up specifically on Essek's intentions with the Nein. (I trimmed a bit about consecution since it's not directly relevant to this topic.) Note that, among all the things Matt said, he didn't write off any particular option that would have been available to Essek, but at the first interaction, he knew he needed to keep the Nein close. However, close doesn't necessarily mean friendship, and considering his position, experience, and cold attitude, Essek probably intended to foster a more formal and politically-minded relationship from the start.

Rather than restate everything from my earlier post that I should have finessed, the part that I really should have fleshed out was this:

Regardless of which situation this is, the best outcome for Essek would be neutralizing the interlopers before they come upon, intentionally or not, his involvement in the theft of the beacons.

By neutralizing, I meant specifically making sure that the Nein were no longer a threat, not necessarily killing them. That could have been sabotaging their status as Heroes of the Dynasty, distracting them, getting them out of the Dynasty permanently, setting up a scapegoat, or any other option of ensuring that these specific people--who somehow obtained a beacon he stole and returned it--would not further jeopardize his situation.

Still, the rest of my post focused on why and how killing them--specifically, setting up the Scourger to attempt to kill Caleb--would have been possible and even likely because the history of the posts I had been responding to were questions about why and how I thought he would. Unfortunately, I got so wrapped up that I failed to notice some (though not all) of my language dipped into sounding like I thought that was his plan all along.

No! I thought that was one of many potential moves Essek was arranging as an attempt to keep the Nein off his trail without losing control of their presence in the Dynasty. As their liaison, they went to him for help and advice even though they clearly didn't trust him. He had a position of power over them and used it well. He racked up favors so he'd have some leverage to pressure them if he so chose. He directed them to Waccoh, who had nothing to do with the beacons and would certainly request things of them that would help the war effort because her job was designing war machines. He encouraged them to investigate the Angel of Irons because that wasn't related to the Beacons either. Neither was their quest to the forge in Caduceus' s dream in the Flotket Alps nor the trip to Mythburrow.

You want to risk traveling to Bazzoxan and didn't even ask me to teleport you to save time or avoid risk? EXCELLENT, have fun on the death trip, make me proud! You want to go investigate a volcano in bum fuck elsewhere? EXCELLENT, have fun maybe freezing or burning to death. You want to find a dragon? EXCELLENT, have fun maybe getting eaten and/or frozen. You want to talk to the Scourger that hates you? EXCELLENT, gimme some time, I need to get that bitch a shank.

I'm sure that every time the Nein went off on a dangerous mission that had nothing to do with the beacons, Essek was relieved and hoped that some of them would die along the way. It was a temporary distraction and hopefully a permanent solution.

And it wasn't until episode 77, right before Essek escorted the Nein to see the Scourger again, that Essek told the Nein that the Bright Queen wants them to find the other beacon in the Empire. Whether you agree with me or not that Essek arranged for the Scourger to have the shiv, at that point, the risk the Nein posed to Essek had risen greatly when she made that decision. That mission inherently carried risk that they would learn about what he had done because it necessitated investigating the Cerberus Assembly. Time and time again, they had demonstrated their skills by doing all these missions in the Dynasty. We don't know exactly when the Bright Queen told Essek her wish, but considering the timing, it wouldn't surprise me if that was one of the reasons that Essek shifted from hands-off options to setting up a potential assassination.

All that is to say that I don't interpret Matt's exposition in the Wrap-Up as Essek wanting to be friends with the Nein. I interpret it as attempting to keep them from fucking him up, and as much as Essek makes a turn around in Eiselcross, he got the title of Shadowhand and the Bright Queen's trust for a reason. He was evil for a reason. And that would include the willingness to risk someone else's life for his own sake.

[the-kaedageist]

Here’s your regularly scheduled snippet of the day! Today’s prompt is brought to you by @catgirlthecrazy, who requested “Caleb & Essek using the Dream spell for a date and/or booty call, depending on how spicy you feel like being”. It did not end up being all that spicy, but it’s definitely a date...

Essek didn’t usually sleep when he was on the road - trancing was more efficient, and safer to boot - but the siren song of the scroll he’d just copied meticulously into his spellbook called to him, tempting him to do otherwise. It had been six months since he’d been home, after a particularly close shave with some Dynasty assassins in Rexxentrum, and he missed Caleb so fiercely that he ached with it.

He was settled in an actual inn that night. The threat to his physical safety was minimal. The time difference between Vasselheim and Rexxentrum presented a bit more of a problem, but Essek solved that by taking a nap during a chilly winter afternoon instead. He curled up in his uncomfortable inn bed, closed his eyes, and whispered the vocal components for Dream while clutching his arcane focus.

It was his first time using such a spell, and it took a few minutes for him to realize he was truly dreaming. At first, he was just strolling along the beach with Caleb, the sounds of waves echoing soothingly nearby. Caleb’s hand was solid in his, and he pulled Essek to a stop and reeled him in, murmuring at him in dreamy-sounding Zemnian before kissing him softly.

The first brush of their mouths brought Essek back to himself at once, realizing that this was not just a pleasant dream at all. He pulled away from Caleb, earning himself a slightly adorable whine for his trouble. “Caleb,” he said. “It is really me.”

Caleb stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. He grinned, lazy and carefree in a way Essek had never seen in reality, heartbreakingly earnest.

“I know,” he said, tugging Essek back in for more kissing. “I would not be doing this,” he added, punctuated with a kiss, “if you were not you.” It took a stronger man than Essek to resist the sweetness of those kisses, and he let himself be lost in sensation for the space of several breaths.

He pulled away again, further this time, untangling himself from Caleb’s embrace with a stern look. “Caleb Widogast,” he said warningly. “Listen to me. I found a scroll for the Dream spell. I am here, right now, in your mind while you sleep a world away from me.”

For a moment, he wondered if sleep-Caleb was a bit less sharp than his waking counterpart; the words didn’t seem to be registering. Maybe Caleb turned off the higher functions of his brain when sleeping? Something about the thought of that was almost charming.

Caleb seemed to finally clue in to the conversation all at once. “The Dream spell?” he repeated hazily. Then the synapses connected as they should - Caleb’s lovely eyes widened perceptively, distracting Essek with how nicely they reflected the Lucidean behind him. “Oh. Essek.”

They were kissing again; this time, Essek wasn’t sure who initiated it as Caleb swung him up off of his feet, twirling them both around in a gleeful circle in a way that physics would have struggled to replicate in reality. Caleb let him back down slowly as he tugged Essek’s lower lip between his own once more, finally releasing his mouth. He didn’t go far, pressing their foreheads together. “It is really you?” he asked breathlessly.

Essek nodded, not trusting his voice.

Caleb clutched Essek against him, burying his nose in Essek’s perfectly coiffed hair. “It has been too long,” he murmured against the shell of Essek’s ear, his breath pleasantly tickling Essek’s skin.

“It has,” Essek agreed, nuzzling against Caleb’s neck and reveling in the hazy way that everything felt even better than normal - the syrupy feeling of dreaming, uninterrupted by the sharpness of reality, but still real. “I will attempt to find a way home to you. Soon.”

“You had better,” Caleb murmured back, clutching at Essek’s waist tightly. They clung to one another for a heartbeat, Essek reveling in the feeling of being held.

Caleb pulled away slightly, peeking one eye open to glance down at Essek with a mischievous smile. “How much time do we have?”

“The spell lasts for eight hours, but—“

“Sounds like we will have a chance to take our time,” Caleb purred, scooping Essek up into his arms way too easily for a man who normally became winded lifting a stack of books in reality. He carried Essek around a pier to a secluded corner on the other side, a large blanket laid out nicely in the sand. Caleb deposited Essek gently on the blanket; Essek stared up at him dreamily, not wanting to wake up for anything in the world.

“What are you planning for me, Caleb Widogast?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

Caleb grinned and gifted him with a scorching look, kneeling on the blanket next to him. “You will just have to find out,” he said, and he pulled Essek in for a kiss.

[tarydarrington]

Essek doesn’t remember much of their introduction, this time around. He had arrived at Caleb’s home in the early afternoon for their scheduled research. They had exchanged pleasantries. Caleb had pulled him into a hug, as he always does these days, and the two of them had made their way to the tower. There might have been more - conversation, witty barbs thrown around between friends, and the like - but all of it had left his mind the moment he saw the corner.

Caleb had seen the questioning look on his face, and a flush had tinted his face as he informed Essek that he has a date, tonight. Then they had settled in with their books, as though everything were perfectly normal and there was not a fist around Essek’s heart.

His eyes scan over the same sentence for a tenth time.  It shouldn’t bother him. Caleb is free to seek out partnership wherever he wishes. Certainly, there are many better-suited than… well, there are people who would suit him well. People who are not so shy of touch, who have no tangled past to trip them up, who are lucky enough to see him every day.

It’s only that Essek had let himself start to believe that maybe...

It doesn’t matter. He swallows it down.

Caleb has a date. That is perfectly acceptable. There is absolutely no logical reason why Caleb should not have a date. He is uniquely brilliant and talented, impossibly kind-hearted, utterly endearing, more handsome than anyone Essek has ever-- stop. He is an impressive man, is the point, and certainly no one could be around him for long without noticing.

It looks… Something aches in Essek’s chest. He had never courted during his time in Rosohna, but from time to time, he had born witness to the habits of others. Always, their meetings had seemed extravagant, grand, gaudy - as though the whole of the city might stumble in and judge them unworthy. This little corner of the library is a far cry from any of that.

Two cushioned armchairs have been pressed close to a little, round table. A deep red tablecloth rests atop it, and a set of amber-colored candles wait unlit in the center. Their varying heights remind him of his towers, and the hollow pang in his chest at the thought has him retreating back to his book.

He doesn’t make it more than two lines before his thoughts begin to drift again. It looks so… intimate. Everything Caleb has set out, save the decorations, had already lived in this room. Essek has curled up in those armchairs on many a night, as he waited for Caleb to finish his sleep. He has piled books on that table, caught up with Caleb in the rush of research.

And it’s all so close. So neatly tucked into that little alcove, cozy enough that two people could whisper and still be heard. He knows because he and Caleb have sat propped against the bookshelves there, tossing ideas back and forth. That area is where he keeps their own books: the ones he and Essek have filled together, the ones full of research notes and new spell ideas. Perhaps he’s planning on pulling one out to impress… whoever it is.

Essek feels a bit sick. Man? Woman? Neither? Both? Are they a fellow professor, or a merchant, or an adventurer? Something else entirely? He wishes Jester were here to pry for him. He wishes he didn’t want to know.

Whoever they are, he thinks as he steals a glance back at the alcove, they had better treat him properly. They had better give him everything.

From the corner of his eye, Essek sees Caleb’s eyes flick up to watch him. He looks away hastily, but the way his face softens tells him Caleb has seen him looking.

“What do you think of all that?” he asks with a nod toward the corner.

What does he think?

If Caleb had been trying to design this evening for him, he couldn’t have done better. A small, foolish part of Essek can’t help but wonder if he had been trying to design it for him - but he digs one sharp tooth into the inside of his lip to chase the thought away.

“It is… “ It shouldn’t hurt like this. He has no right to let it hurt like this. “I cannot imagine anything more lovely,” he says truthfully. “I certainly hope your… companion agrees.”

A small smile pulls at Caleb’s lips, and Essek’s heart aches with the hint of fondness in it, as though he’s imagining impressing his mysterious partner this way. “Ja, well, I am hoping my companion will be willing to join me for it,” he says, and his gaze drops back down to his book.

Essek quirks an eyebrow in question, but Caleb doesn’t look back. He’s gone to the trouble of setting all this up, and he still hasn’t so much as asked? But Caleb doesn’t offer any further insight on the topic, and it is most certainly not Essek’s place to ask; so, with what he hopes is not an audible sigh, he tucks back into his book.

Mercifully, the topic is interesting. For the last several months, he and Caleb have been exchanging notes on a more wide-reaching version of Programmed Illusion, and Essek has always been at his best when playing with new magic. The two of them settle into their usual rhythm, the thought of the corner table only nagging at the back of his mind from time to time, and while away the hours together.

It's already half past nine when Essek realizes just how caught up he's become. With a sigh, Essek replaces his book on the table and rises.

“I apologize. I lost track of time.” But Caleb couldn’t have, could he? “I should let you go.”

Caleb's eyes flick up from his reading, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "There is no hurry, friend," he says.

He stands, as well, as Essek begins to float toward the tower's central cylinder. Truly, he doesn't look rushed in the least. But for once, Essek would very much like to be out of his home quickly, with as little time as possible spent in eyeshot of that perfect, little corner.

“You have someone to meet, do you not?” he prompts. He’s lucky to have had so much practice keeping his face calmly polite.

Caleb smiles, a taut and fragile thing. “Well, no,” he says, “not exactly. Just something to ask.” He clears his throat. With a strange, new nervousness about him, he clasps both hands in front of him and straightens his spine. “So,” he says, inclining his head towards Essek. “Essek Thelyss. Would you care to join me for dinner, tonight?”

Months later, with a smile equal parts smug and fond, Caleb will use Seeming to recreate the way Essek’s face contorts itself before he schools it back under control.

“I--” he attempts. The shade his face must be. “That would, ah…” He is an idiot. An idiot who can’t even find his words, an idiot for whom Caleb-- for whom all this has been planned, and-- “I would be…”

Caleb’s smile softens, and he holds one hand out between them. Essek numbly, slowly, carefully reaches out to take it.

As soon as their hands touch, the lights in the library gutter out, and the candles on the table wink to life. Above, a web of amber stars and constellations spiders its way across the ceiling. The sky above Rosohna. Just where everything would be from his towers, on this day, at this time. That fist around his heart is back, but for an entirely different reason. He had been wrong. There had been a way to make it more perfect, after all.

Essek doesn’t realize he’s staring until Caleb leans in close and murmurs with an audible grin, “I may have figured out that spell a bit earlier than anticipated.”

His only answer is a breath of incredulous laughter and a look that he’s sure is entirely too moon-eyed to be dignified. Under the circumstances, he can’t bring himself to care overmuch. In any case, Caleb seems to appreciate it; the smile on his face is worth just about any amount of indignity, as is the rush as he twines their hands tighter together and leads Essek towards the alcove.

Perhaps there are a dozen or a hundred or a thousand people better suited - or perhaps there are not, he thinks as he settles in between the books they’ve filled together. Perhaps, he thinks fleetingly as a shooting star above catches his eye, he will have to spend some time studying the sky above Blumenthal. He’ll certainly have to finish that spell.

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E133 (April 13, 2021)

(Little distracted tonight! Please excuse any and all omissions.)

Tonight’s guests on Good Morning Quebec are Marisha Ray and Travis Willingham!

How are Beau and Fjord feeling about their leadership responsibilities among the Nein? Marisha: “Beau has always admired Fjord and respected his ability to speak like an adult. It does feel like-- are Beau and Fjord the only adults in the room?” Travis points out Caduceus and Caleb’s leadership as well. “In that conversation, at least, just because I want it to be a tiny bit meta, a lot of it’s just mindset. Fjord knows that Beau is a world-breaker, can kick that ass, and the idea that part of the focus would be diverted towards how can we get out here, it was feeling a little bit more like we’re done for rather than we can do this. It was his way of doing the old coach reminder of stop thinking of the ways you’re going to get out of this and start thinking of the ways you’re going to dominate this.” Marisha mentions that Beau and Travis are kind of the two who aren’t saying goodbyes, and yet they’re two of the only ones who just have the Nein. “Even Caleb was allowed to say goodbye to his cat! We don’t even have that. It’s just the Nein. They are the ultimate goodbyes for us, if it comes to that. But hopefully it won’t come to that.” Travis: “There’s a certain drive that comes with not having wrapped it up in a pretty bow.”

On Fjord’s decision to have the Rangers engage: “Yeah, that one stings. I was suffering from the good ol’ regurts almost as soon as it happens. I realized it was just Essek and Fjord, and he was just asking me, and boy there were a lot of horseshit RP things going around my head.” He kept in mind that the captain has to be decisive and focus on his people. “I in no way thought of Dagon at all. Fuck, did I send Dagon to his death? Did that headstrong dude go, nah, I’ll do my own thing and get out of there? I hadn’t really experienced that kind of instant regret in a gameplay situation yet. But in leadership moments, or when you have to make a decision like that, sometimes it’s important to take a fucking minute and think about what you’re doing. Even in D&D. I wish I had taken a moment to say, how far away are they? If you engage them from afar, can you slow them down long enough? Set an ambush if you can, but at least be at max.”

On Beau’s meditation attempt that ended in contact with Lucien: “I think I know exactly what he was trying to do. He was trying to put another fuckin’ eye somewhere on me. I was remembering Keyleth putting her hand in the spinning black orb of death under the Ziggurat and I rolled a natural twenty.” Travis asks if she thinks she and Caleb are “next up in the queue” now that so many of the Tombtakers are dead. “Yeah. I’m gonna get turned.” Travis: “I’ll kill you real good, Beau. I’ll take Caleb first because he made me promise, but I’ll get you good, too.”

On Fjord now having more information about Vandren: “I love it. I feel like such a fuckin’ moron. It never occurred to me for one second that a shipwrecked person that survived would have maybe just wound up on the nearest island. Nope. Didn’t even bother to do the Castaway grid and check the nearest body of land. I’m a fuckin’ terrible D&D player.” Fjord washed up extremely far away from the wreck. “I love that he’s there. I cannot wait to go find him and have a conversation. I just don’t know which will come first: going to Darktow and confronting Sabien or going to see Vanden. But both of those things are on the list, for sure. Just for closure, I mean, damn.” Brian asks if Fjord is okay with Jester having reached out. “Yeah, totally. Fjord is a big dummy in a lot of ways.” He mentions that Fjord has a lot of ideas in his head about what it means to “be a man” that keeps him from asking for help when he needs it. “When Jester did that, it just reaffirmed his feelings for her and how she feels for him. It’ll take those kind of people in his life to help him along to the things that he wants when he’s too stupid or shy to acknowledge it himself.”

How about that alliance with Essek? Marisha: “Here’s the thing. Beau wasn’t like, ooh, allying with Trent, that’s icky because of moral reasons. It’s not that. The more allies, the better in this moment. Teaming up with Magneto kind of situation. But Beau’s whole concern was is this going to distract you from the overall mission. I couldn’t imagine walking alongside someone who had just tortured me in the way that Trent has. We spent so many episodes watching Caleb have these post-traumatic flashes of when he lit his family on fire. Caleb’s a shotgun, he’s such a good damage-dealer, and if he can’t cope with it. That was Beau’s concern.” Travis: “And just to go along with your Magneto reference, Essek is one powerful person. Trent brings the acolytes. But we recognize that if we stop the Tombtakers and Lucien then we probably have to stop Trent and the Vollstruckers. But I wanted to open it to Caleb, because we gotta face that motherfucker at some point.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Yasha! (krisjaded on Instagram, photography by adambenfer on Instagram)

On Beau’s plan to put a possible eavesdropper off their trail at Pumat’s: “I mean, everything is a long shot.” Taliesin suggested the idea. “I said Darktow because I thought, hey, if he tries to follow us to Darktow, he’ll probably get murdered. He’ll never make it back. We have no idea. It could have been completely transparent, or maybe he’ll be stupid enough to actually try it.”

Fan Art of the Week: a lovely Caduceus! (by arcanum.dice on Instagram)

How’s the relationship with Yasha been going? “It’s so new! And fresh and weird, and she’s trying to remember to be like, oh, that’s right! You’re my girlfriend! I owe you some attention, that’s right. It’s nice to have somebody. We were talking about not really having anyone to say goodbye to in this round of goodbyes, Beau is looking to the future and those relationships are keeping her afloat.”

On seeing more of Aeor, looking forward to it? Travis: “I really want them dead first. If collections of explorers and expeditions from the Cerberus Assembly and the Dynasty have turned up stuff they don’t know what to do with yet, what the fuck are a bunch of chuckle-dicks like us going to do with it?” They’re interested in a distant sort of way - there are bigger issues at hand.

Travis mentions that he’s never been quite so emotionally invested in the game before and notes that was at the root of his competitive attitude at the end of the last episode. “The lines were so blurred in that way. It’s just a testament to the never-ending learning process that comes from this game that I underestimated my entire life.”

[fjoresterthoughts]

Also while I’m here - Fjord is force sensitive and only realized much later in life. He’s never been around anyone force sensitive before - or so he thought, until he washes ashore with a lightsaber that used to belong to Vandran. Incredibly confused, he soon meets Jester who has a pretty pink lightsaber. She doesn’t think it's all a big deal because her best friend is suuuuuper powerful with the force, you know? She doesn’t follow the “jedi” code whatsoever. Fjord eventually is trained by Caduceus, who has a very strong spiritual connection to the force. His grove is a force hot spot. Jester learns a lot from him too, even though she still carves dicks into things with her lightsaber.

Caleb was originally trained in the dark side of the force by Sith Lord Ikithon, so he’s unpacking a lot. The first time he sees Essek use the force and expertly and gracefully use a lightsaber he swoons. (Essek's lightsaber is purple.)

I kinda imagine the Cobalt Soul being like a jedi institution? And I know that I’ve kinda equated the force to all the people who use magic in the campaign, but there’s no way Beau isn’t a jedi. Either that, or because she was trained by them, she knows how to move like them, read their patterns, and take them out.

I can't decide if Veth also is a little force sensitive, but she doesn’t really know what to do with it? But she’s always used her crossbow and blasters. She can just shoot Fjord or Beau in the leg. She doesn't need a lightsaber.

Yasha's a mandalorian. Equipped with jetpack and beskar.

[nerdy-ass-voice-actors]

A room full of writers couldn’t have asked for a better outline of story beats. I’m serious. This shit is narrative GOLD.

And before people get back on their “it’s all scripted” bs, this kind of easy, natural, off the cuff storytelling can happen if you just absorb stories that you love, love stories all your life, and follow your gut and also trust the dice to throw in some curveballs. When you subconsciously absorb what makes stories great, you can spit them out and hit all the beats effortlessly. It is possible. Just because you can’t do it, doesn’t mean no one can.

Having the last boss be a twisted aberration of their friend, who they couldn’t save, is drama that any author would salivate over. You have the aversion to wanting to hurt him mixed with the grief of realizing ‘your friend is gone. This isn’t him.’

Having the last fight be interwoven with memories of Molly - out loud, spoken declarations of what made him good and loved - is narratively emotional on its own. On its own, it’s a fantastic send off. A type of memorial for Molly to help ease the bite of watching his body attack our heroes. But it’s also a PERFECT lead up to getting him back. They are forced to think back and dig up emotional daggers that matter to them. It reminds them all of what they lost. It reminds the audience of who he was before this arc. It gives them a reason to want to bring him back instead of just letting him go.

The poetry of Talesin being the one to revive his dead character is just *chefs kiss*. He had the last say in whether it happened or not, and he chose to roll the dice. Him saying “give it back to them. I think they earned it.” felt like Tal talking to the DM a bit. They showed how much they loved Molly in the fight, and Tal was like “okay. Yes. I think you earned it, and I know he’s going to be safe. I think I’m ready to do it now.” Because, if I remember correctly, Talesin once said he didn’t think he would be able to emotional handle Molly again so soon after his death. I was expecting him to just give full rein to Matt and never touch Molly again. He was ready now, and I bet that fight filled with all the memories of great Molly moments helped.

.....but to me, it’s more touching that it was Caduceus. And I’ve been falling more and more in love with Caduceus lately, that I don’t think I could even put my appreciation for his character into words right now. He’s had some of the best, most impactful, most meaningful moments for me lately. In protecting his friends, softly helping and just wanting to heal and also embrace the inevitability of death. He’s a quiet, yet powerful, force. He’s a lover, not a fighter. But he can pack a punch (edit:not lunch 😛) if he needs to. And even after helping save the world, he went the extra mile to also give his friends a happy ending. A little present, if you will. He (save Essek) was the one most detached from Molly, and he saw his friends reluctantly accept his death and be okay with burying him in the grove - which is what you would expect Cad would prefer - but he quietly, and without fanfare, asked his god for help.

“Just this once. Everybody lives.”

Thank you, Talesin, for being one of the best players of D&D I have ever had the privilege of watching. Both in the character choices you make, and in the tactical moves you make.

[mithrilwren]

I really, really wanted to contribute something to Essek Week​, but unfortunately with two essays and a novel chapter due by Monday, I didn’t have the time or mental energy to write anything new. Cue me remembering that I’d actually started working on an Essek-centric shadowgast Pirate!AU last summer, that never saw the light of day! Though I did a whole bunch of research for it, summer ended before I could get farther than the first couple chapters. Still, I’m very fond of the premise, and I’d like to finish it one day. I can’t guarantee I will (life’s too busy to commit myself to another Big Fic Project atm) but in the meantime, here’s a little taste in the form of the first chapter.

-------------------

For @essek-week Day 7: AU

Courts of Silk (Chapter 1)

Essek startled from his trance to the crackle of blistering thunder overhead.

Mind bled of all drowsiness in an instant, he unfolded his legs and slid off the berth, drifting to the center of the room and tilting his ear towards the boards above. 

A storm…  but the skies were meant to be clear for days, and he trusted Avus to know it. Could the weather have turned so–

Boom.

Essek’s eyebrows flew up as the deck visibly lurched below his feet. 

Not thunder.

Cannon fire.

More sounds now, hurried ones – an erratic tempo of feet pounding through the corridor outside his little room, the floorboards creaking dully under the weight of the crew scrambling over the deck above. He flinched as a louder noise pierced through the commotion: the rattling of a heavy fist falling against the door of his cabin, hard enough to shake the wooden frame. 

“We’ve been boarded!” Zel’ra’s guttural shout startled him out of his confused stupor, and he flew to the door and flung it open. The quartermaster stood outside, her snarling jaw dripping with whitish battle foam, the kind that bugbears of Rosohna so seldom have occasion to sport within city walls. “Come on, magic boy, time for you to earn your– Shit!”

Then she was gone, and Essek was left staring dumbly at the empty corridor, as Zel’ra raced back the way she came. A moment later, there was a yelp, and the grisly crack of metal hitting bone. Then there was no sound at all, save the rocking of the ocean’s pulse against the hull, and the thump of confident, unfamiliar footsteps, coming closer and closer to his open door.

He had only a few moments to make his decision. The fight might still be going on above deck, but if intruders had already made it below, there was little hope of a favorable outcome for the crew of the Barren Bow. He hadn’t thought the Empire would be brazen enough to attack a diplomatic ship in open waters, but there were soldiers of all ilks on the open sea, and no government to hold them to account so far from land. He would not put it past a Dwendalian crew to sight a Dynasty flag on the horizon and decide to take the matter of revenge in their own hands. If so, there was no telling what treatment they might expect at the hands of their attackers. Rage was rarely tamed by abstract rules of engagement, and he doubted anyone would care to ask what the nature of their mission was, once the killing began.

But perhaps…

Quickly, Essek drew aside his sleeve and materialized the leather–bound contents of his wristpocket into his hands. His spellbook lay beside precious components in their embroidered fold, and there, at the bottom of the pile: the folio. He whispered a quiet word and the paper folded apart, revealing its damning – and perhaps, in the right hands, lifesaving – contents. 

The letters. 

If the tides were so unfavorable that he could not fight, perhaps that might be enough to–

He vanished the whole affair back into the ether as two shadows fell across the door. 

From the darkness of the hallway, two figures stepped over the threshold. In front was a young woman: human, with swarthy skin made darker still by the weathering burn of long days at sea. Her hands were tucked beneath bare arms and her hip turned out to an unconcerned jaunt, adorned by a sash of deep blue. Behind her, and looming so tall that she had to hunch to fit through the frame of the door, was a giant of a woman. Taller even than Zel’ra, her bare shoulders glistening with rippling muscles and sweat, pale as moonlight – or as the steely glint of the broadsword at her back. The younger woman swept him over with piercing eyes, her confident grin not quite masking the focused gaze beneath. Though she bore no weapons, Essek could feel the stain of threat in every taut sinew of her body. He held still, waiting to see who would make the first move.

Her eyes finally paused, centered on the floor beneath his feet, and her grin dropped into something more like a startled ‘oh’. Too late, he realized his mistake – that his levitation, as natural and instinctive as standing on his own two feet, had just given him away. 

“Mage!” she sputtered, and her hand was gripping his arm and twisting it behind his back before he even realized she’d moved. Essek dropped the levitation spell, hoping to get enough leverage from the sudden height difference to slip out of her grasp, but before he could so much as shuffle to the left, the taller woman was at his right, clutching his other arm with a grip strong enough to break bone. 

“Shit,” the first woman spat as she stepped back, allowing the second to take both of his arms into custody. “Who the fuck did we just board?”

Essek kept silent, staring at her, searching for any sign of weakness and finding less than nothing. If he had just had his hands free for a moment longer… but that didn’t matter now. There weren’t many spells without a somatic component at his disposal, and cantrips wouldn’t save his neck, should the giantess move quicker to snap it than he could speak. 

Without a means of immediate escape, he looked next for any way to identify his captors. They were human, but their loose, subdued dress – for the younger woman, a vest of blue cotton, the other, a braided grey tunic, and frayed ribbons in both their hair – was nothing like the silver and crimson finery of the Righteous Brand. 

If not from the Empire, who were these people? Hired thugs? Mercenaries?

“Are there more of you skulking down here?” 

He didn’t ask the woman to clarify, though he wasn’t sure exactly what she was asking. More drow? Yes, but he was not about to reveal the nature of the delegation travelling under his protection to her. More mages? No. As always, he had convinced the Bright Queen that his effort alone would be sufficient. For the first time in a very long time, he wished he’d been a little more conservative in estimating his own skills. Given the current situation, someone else’s power at his back might actually be welcome, rather than distracting. 

Her burning gaze made it clear that he had to say something, and soon, but for once, the right words did not come. The truth did not matter: he knew that any unfavorable answer would be taken as a lie.

Still, Essek would not panic. The only way to regain control of the situation was by carefully gathering information, finding something that he could use to shift the balance of power at a more advantageous moment. That was his particular specialty. 

“I do not know,” he answered coolly. “For I do not know who is above and below deck at all hours of the day. I can only speak for myself.”

“Beau! Fjor– fuck– Captain Tusktooth wants you on deck!” A new voice, its timbre high and grating, like glass against cold iron, echoed from around the corner. The woman – Beau, he filed away – turned her head and shouted back out the door. 

“Just a second, we’ve got one more!” Then, “Tell him to get Caleb over here, we’ve got a goddamn mage to deal with!” 

The giantess at his back leaned down, so close that her dreaded locks nestled amidst the silver chains that hung from tip to base of his pointed ear. “You aren’t going to give us any trouble, are you?” she murmured, and despite every ounce of training he’d undergone for exactly this sort of intimidation, he still couldn’t help the way he shivered at her dark tone. There was a deep quality to her voice that sung of violence, for violence’s sake, and though he wasn’t yet truly afraid, he had no wish to provoke her.

“How could I?” Essek gently flexed his arms in her grasp: not enough to challenge, but enough to reassure her of his helplessness.

Her lips curled back, and… yes. There was a little fear gathering there, in the back of his throat. A good kind of fear – the prudent kind. It would keep him alert, and focused, and ready to strike back when the moment was right. 

When she started pushing him forward, he followed her lead willingly, and the two of them shadowed Beau into the corridor and up the steps that led back above deck. Essek winced as the bright noonday sun slipped into view, already anticipating the stinging burn that was sure to follow. He’d managed to avoid the deck for most of the voyage, much to the chagrin of the Assarian crew. He was not born into a body made for manning rigging, and certainly not under an unrepentant sky determined to scorch his face and hands and neck and leave him itching and miserable for days without relief. His better use was below deck, planning for the engagement ahead, and his hours of fresh air better taken in the evening, when the gentler light of the moons was merely a prickle beneath his skin, rather than a flame. 

Everywhere he looked, he saw mismatched bodies. Though Essek hadn’t met the entire complement of the Barren Bow’s crew, he had to assume most of the scattered orcs, goblins, and bugbears belonged to their side. Most of the ones on their feet were being held in the shallow recess at the centre of the deck, where great cannons might have been lodged on a more modern ship. A handful of unremarkable humans, each equipped with a rapier – or, in one man’s case, a salt-encrusted retort – stood above them, keeping watch. Amidst all that humanity stood a wild–eyed goblin in a blaring yellow dress, hefting a crossbow composed of whirring gears and levers of an intricate make that rivaled Waccoh’s own craftsmanship. She was currently in the process of shouting threats down across the heads of his cowed compatriots. Some were clutching broken arms or wiping blood from contusions and burnt welts. Lying at the center of the group was an unconscious Zel’ra, the goose egg at the back of her skull already angry and red. 

Finally, he spied the remainder of the drow contingent clustered by the ship’s rail. Diplomats, all of them, bound for a parley at sea and not trained for conflict beyond what it took to hold a dagger right-way up. He was the only one among them battle-tested, and even then, his means leaned more towards subterfuge than outright combat. Theoretically, the Assarian crew was meant to be their main line of defence in case of attack. Clearly they had not proven up to the task. 

Essek would be filing a very unfavorable report with their commanders upon his return, if any of them survived the day. 

“Captain!” Beau shouted, and a tall half-orc stepped away from the railing, his wide-brimmed hat only partially disguising the many scars that littered his face. 

“Weather’s turning,” he said, casting his eyes towards the – as far as Essek could tell – clear horizon. Those same yellow eyes flickered up, above Essek’s head, and for a moment seemed to narrow before turning back to Beau. “You finished clearing the hold yet?”

“Didn’t make it that far.” Beau jerked her head, and Essek was thrust into the sunlight all at once. The glare was blinding, and apparently not just to him. The giantess’s hands jerked around his arms, like they wanted to fly up and shield her eyes as well. That was all the opportunity he needed. 

With one quick motion, he jerked his arms from her grasp and drew his hands together, tracing familiar glyphs out of nothing but muscle memory as his mouth uttered an incantation, and the world exploded around him. The giantess was flung back against the doorframe, wood splintering beneath her weight, and both Beau and the half-orc slammed into the deck and began to hurtle towards the side of the boat. Forcing his eyes to stay focused amidst the chaos and the harsh light, Essek caught the glitter of a cutlass skittering along the boards as he took stock of his position on the newly reborn battlefield.

Nearly all of the boarders were in a concentrated area in front of him, and the rest of the Assarian crew were protected by the lip of the recess in the deck. The terrain could not be more advantageous. Essek allowed himself a small smirk as he raised his hand and prepared a vacuum blast that would level the whole of the upper deck, and deliver them all to safety in one swift stroke. 

How arrogant, that this petty group of mercenaries thought they could capture–

“Counterspell.”

The magic sizzled and died in his hand, and Essek whirled, searching for whoever had spoken behind him. Thugs he could handle, but it was always best to deal with a mage first, when they could do such infuriating things as what had just occurred. But once he turned, he found himself facing an empty doorway, and an empty deck above that. No trace of whoever had cast the counterspell. 

The giantess was gone as well.

He heard the click before he could parse what cold and heavy thing was tugging on his wrist, but he was horribly aware of what was happening by the time his other wrist was wrenched behind his back and small hands clasped the second iron band shut. A stomach-churning wave of exhaustion passed through him from scalp to toe, and he staggered, only barely holding on to consciousness. Head lolling towards the floor, he saw two soft-soled boots landing lightly on the deck in front of him.

With great effort, he managed to drag his head up from his chest, and found himself staring into blue eyes and dusty freckles, lips pressed into a thin line, all framed by tangles of copper-red hair. 

“Good work, Nott,” the man said. His accent was one Essek had only heard once before, though through the mire of exhaustion he could not remember where.

Behind Essek, the half-orc groaned and pushed himself up off the deck. “Next time you have a brilliant plan for subduing the prisoner, maybe let’s try not putting us all in the line of fire, hm?” 

The man ignored the sarcasm, still looking all too carefully at Essek.

“Are you finished?” he murmured, and though his body was lithe, his soft voice sung of as much violence as the giantess’s darker growl. 

With a sigh, Essek let his shoulders drop. He could still feel the pulses of magic coursing through the iron bands around his wrists. Even if he got his arms free again, the cuffs would not be easily slipped, or broken. These people, whoever they were, came equipped to handle wizards like himself. Was that what they were, then? Assassins in disguise? Privateers? The blunt instrument of some government or another?

Not that it made much difference now. Whoever they were, he was at their mercy. 

“Spin him around.”

Essek felt himself being maneuvered away from the man’s incisive gaze. Through bleary eyes he caught the looks of frustrated disbelief from the four drow delegates, lamenting their crushed hope in silent, huddled unity. He was meant to be their protection. Now that Essek was taken, what else could save them? Not one of them was brave enough to attempt it themselves. A shiver of disgust ran through Essek, as heady as the self-recrimination it concealed at having allowed himself to be captured so easily.

The half-orc strode up to Essek, the sword in his hand now replaced, though Essek hadn’t seen the man move to retrieve it. It was a silver cutlass, fine enough to cleave a person clean through and leave one half still propped up on the other. Too rich a prize by far for a simple mercenary – he must have come by it dishonestly, or been given it as boon or bribe. Neither prospect boded well. 

The hand that gripped the sword told an equally foreboding story, for only the thumb was composed of green flesh. The rest of the fingers were severed at the third knuckle, and replaced by metal imitations fixed to the wrist by a harness of leather cords. Still, he held the hilt with all the confidence of a trained fighter, and the surety of his grasp left Essek little doubt as to its effectiveness, mechanical augmentation or no.

“My name,” said the half-orc, “is Captain Tusktooth.” A hint of bright teeth flashed from below the wide brim of the hat. “And this ship is mine now. Its cargo, mine too.”

The answer about the identity of his captors, at last, became clear, for what little good it did him.

Pirates.

“By whose authority?” Essek shot a harsh look at the foolish dignitary who had chosen this moment to find their courage, but Tusktooth only grinned harder.

“By my own.” Behind Essek’s back, Nott and Beau slipped back through the splintered doorframe and down into the depths of the ship once more. “Now, my crew is going to finish taking a look through your cargo. I trust that your captain has been honest about the contents of your hold. Are there any other surprises I should be warning my people of? Anybody else looking to make trouble?”

Would that there were. “You will find little of value to take. We travelled light.” He spoke the truth, having no more useful lie at his disposal. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and another wave of exhaustion teased at the edges of his mind. He fought it with all the strength he had – which was growing less and less by the minute.

“So your captain told me. But that wasn’t my question.” Tusktooth’s voice grew as keen as the blade in his hand as he lifted it and placed the edge to the shallow of Essek’s throat. “Are there others like you aboard?”

He did not flinch. Torment and torture were old friends: his own cherished instruments. He did not fear what this man would do to him, any more than he feared death itself. At least, that is what he told his errant heart, as sweat began to bead at the nape of his neck.

“No.”

Tusktooth stared him down for a minute longer, and Essek held his gaze as best he could with the sun still searing his eyes. But at last, the sword withdrew, and Essek’s breath came a little easier. “Then let’s call this an exercise in… mutual trust.” He smiled once more, and Essek returned the expression with a vague twitch of lips.

The tense exchange was followed by ten excruciating minutes of silence, during which Essek did his best not to fidget in his heavy robes, even when his exposed skin grew so heated he felt liable to burst into flames. As they waited, the redheaded man pulled Tusktooth aside for a private conversation, and Essek sweated, and watched, and tried to formulate a plan.

The pirates would find nothing of value to steal. The Barren Bow had provisions for the voyage, but anything else aboard was the purview of the Assarian crew, who had planned to head back towards the shores of Igrathad as soon as the parley concluded. There were no scheduled stops for trade, and thus, no trade goods in their hold. There weren’t even guns to offer. Essek would never dare to admit it aloud, but the Dynasty lagged sorely behind the rest of Wildemount in outfitting its fleet with the relatively new technology of cannonry, at least of the type that lacked a magical component. Firearms had only entered the sphere of weaponmaking some thirty years prior, and with Xhorhas primarily landlocked, the navy hadn’t been high on the priority list for refurbishment. 

His best hope was that some of the crew had hidden stashes of coin in their quarters. Otherwise, there would be nothing for the pirates to take, and without anything to satisfy them, well… he did not want to be in manacles when that news was delivered to a man who’d already put a sword to his throat. 

If only to convince himself he was not totally beaten yet, Essek watched Tusktooth and the redhead carefully, seeing what he could glean from body language alone. Their conversation was hushed but tense, and every few moments the redhead would turn his eyes towards the drow delegation, and then to Essek himself. He made sure to drop his own eyes before they could meet again, not wanting to spark another confrontation by appearing insolent. As for the pirate captain… there was confidence, yes, but the unwavering edge of confidence seemed to drop away from his shoulders as he spoke to the other man. His arms moved more wildly; his words were more rapid, and at a higher pitch. Perhaps his earlier confidence was not so unshakeable as it at first appeared.

At last, Beau and the goblin re-emerged from the staircase. “We got shit all,” Beau said, tossing down a half-empty sack by Essek’s feet. He winced as a few bruised tubers rolled out across the warped deck.

“...Shit.” Tusktooth ran a hand over his mouth. “Shit. Nothing?”

“Nott and I checked every inch of that hold, the crew quarters, everything. No money, no timber, no – fuck, I don’t know – fine silks or–”

“No cannons,” Nott added mournfully. “No black powder.”

“We went through all this for nothing?”

“Maybe someone’s holding out on us,” Nott said, brandishing her crossbow. “I could make ‘em talk for you, Captain. Make them squeal–”

“Oh–kay, Nott,” Tusktooth said, “let’s take it down a notch.” But despite his placating tone, his look was thoughtful. Again, he turned to Essek. “You never never did say what you all were doing out here, so far from home. You don’t look like a sailor to me.”

“Yes, friend,” said the redhead, stepping up to Essek from Tusktooth’s other side, alarmingly calm, and placing altogether too much emphasis on the second word to be trusted, “what is it you do here?” Essek took a half-step back, not liking the feeling of being pressed in from all angles, and walked himself straight into the chest of the giantess. 

Nowhere to hide. And with his hands bound behind his back, no way to levitate up to a level where he didn’t feel every inch of height his captors had over him. Which, at his firmly average height for a drow, was many.

Focus, Thelyss. Focus.

“Why should I answer your questions,” he sneered, “when you have not done me the same courtesy? Who are you, to board a vessel commissioned lawfully by the Bright Queen herself?” It was a dangerous ploy, but a considered one – a hastily calculated risk. If the pirates could not be convinced there was nothing of value to be found, they might decide to punish the crew for concealing their rightful prize, and when even a beating couldn’t drive his compatriots to forfeit non-existent gold, the pirates might well scuttle the ship and leave them all to drown at sea. He doubted simple brigands would care much for the particulars of a diplomatic mission if there was no treasure involved, so there was little harm in broaching a subject that might be far more dangerous to discuss with more educated captors.

But apparently, some aspect of Essek’s logic had failed him again, because the redhead immediately shot a wide-eyed look at Tusktooth, before looking back to Essek. “The Bright Queen?”

Essek gave a little bow. His head swam as he dipped back up – the handcuffs, no doubt, though it could just as easily be the beginnings of heatstroke – and he had to swallow twice to find the fortitude to speak without slurring. “Essek Thelyss, Shadowhand of the Kryn Dynasty and ambassador of the realm.” The last part was an… embellishment, and if he chanced a glance over at the true ambassadors, he imagined there would be many offended looks. But thankfully, all attention was solely focused on him. “I assure you, you won’t find the prize you’re looking for on a diplomatic vessel, gentleman. Your friends have already given you proof – we carry nothing beyond our own provision. Unless you have a particular taste for the delicacies of Xhorhasian fashion, I’m afraid we have little to offer you.”

Nott snarled, but the redhead put up a hand. “Captain,” he said slowly, looking at Tusktooth. “Might I… make a suggestion?” 

“You may.”

“It’s not something I’d usually propose, but times being what they are…” Tusktooth nodded grimly.

“We haven’t got many options left.”

“Precisely. I believe that our friend Mr. Thelyss here has lied to us.” He could laugh for the irony of it all; this was the most truthful Essek had been in years. “There is indeed something very valuable aboard this ship.” His blue eyes pierced through Essek, and it was only his determination to keep the – now violently pitching – contents of his stomach where they belonged, that stopped him from speaking up in his own defense.

“And that is...?”

“Himself.”

[stay-funky-ponyboy]

He opens the door.

A field of sunflowers is spread out before him. Sunflowers. He isn’t aware that such a flower existed, but he now knows it does.

He is somewhere in the Empire, but there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to where he really is.

He jumps as he steps onto the soft dirt. He isn’t wearing shoes. The feeling of his bare feet connecting with the ground is exhilarating. He soon shakes it off. He has no time to be considering how this feels nice. All he needs to do right now is focus on Caleb.

Maneuvering through a field of flowers that are familiar and unfamiliar to him at the same time is unnerving.

As he walks within the field, he can’t help but look around. Fingers brush past petals, and a flood of memories enters his mind.

Dirt underneath his feet, a cool breeze entering the atmosphere, he runs through the field.

He runs and runs until he sees sky and land, breaking through the obscurity of the tall sunflowers. He is now in grass, and on a hill.

The view before him overlooks below the hill, and he can see pastures and homes as far as his sight can take him, to the edge of the land right where it hits the beginning of a forest.

He wears rags, but it does not matter. He is free. He is young, and simply enjoying the feeling of being outside.

Essek blinks away the memory, and realizes he has escaped from the field.

He now stands on an incline, looking down at pastures stretching far and wide.

This is Blumenthal.

His hometown. Wait. Caleb’s hometown.

“Caleb… please. I don’t want to go through your memories, that feels like an invasion of privacy. If I can feel your memories, perhaps you can feel me here. Can you hear me?”

Essek glances around as he continues to talk out loud. There must be some sort of connection he can make here.

He is not one to go down memory lane, especially not to experience precious memories such as these. Ones that Caleb would value the privacy of.

Why does he feel everything Caleb has felt in the past? Is this because of the Wild Magic?

“Astrid and Eadwulf sent me here, to find you. Obviously you aren’t here, or else I wouldn’t be running around like a fool.”

Talk through it. He will keep on talking so he doesn’t feel like he is losing his mind. Which is ridiculous, considering he is within one’s mind. How can he lose his mind when he is in a safe place?

The back of his neck grows cold. He turns back, and swears he sees a shadow out of the corner of his eye.

It’s gone in an instant.

Can one go paranoid within someone else’s mind? He might just become a first hand case study of this phenomenon.

Essek snaps his fingers, attempting a cantrip. The gravity shifts beneath his feet, and he is brought upwards.

Thank the gods. He can float.

His bare feet are still showing, but they are his feet. Drow and clean.

Not human and dirty. Not like the memory he was just in.

If he goes through every single one of Caleb’s memories, he will be here forever. Or at least as long as the Dream’s duration, and he cannot risk this opportunity to slip out of his hands. He needs to get out of here.

Magic still works here, so that is a good sign.

He floats in an aimless direction, dreamscapes don’t seem to follow any stream of logic, so he will not do so either.

Memories. He needs to get away from the memories. They won’t lead him to Caleb. He must be somewhere else. But where?

He looks down at the ground. In a bit of a frustration, because so far his manifestation of the dreamscape has not bent to his will, he rips out a patch of grass.

The grass feels so real, in his hand. He drops the blades, and watches them fall uselessly to the ground.

He sits down on his knees, pawing at the grass, studying it, as if it will have all the answers in the world.

(this is a sneak peek for my wip where Essek uses a Dream spell to save Caleb who has been cursed into a deep sleep. surely nothing can go awry when dealing with a fey and wizard trauma...)

[omniscientwreck]

Hi🖤 Omni! If you're looking for a fic request I've got one.

Okay so Essek is Feeblminded by remaining Volstrucker at his tower. Verin came to visit later that day and has been taling care of Essek, as they both would be scared of the Umavi's wrath should someone find out.

Well Caleb comes to visit a few day's later and Certainly gets a surprise.

Fluff ensues.

I'm talking the Unicorn from Despicable Me level Fluffy😁😁😁

Hi Umbra! Sorry I'm incredibly late answering this, life is weird but I hope the length makes up for it! I know I said drabble but like this just turned into a whole fic so I hope you enjoy!

Verin had worried when Essek’s door hadn’t opened of its own accord, usually he knows when he’s arrived. Deciding something was certainly wrong he barges his way into his brother’s tower. He finds it silent which is normal but unnerving and the unnatural stillness as he calls for Essek has his hackles up.

His knuckles pale as he grips the hilt of his sword and searches methodically throughout the tower. Finding the main floor empty he heads up the stairs to the library. There’s a shuffle, a falling book, a whimper. He draws his sword, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The door is ajar and he can hear shuffling. He thrusts it open is momentarily relieved to see his brother. His hair is tousled and white is stained with flecks of red, his robes are torn and his mantle is askew.

He’s never seen him like this before and his heart lurches. Surprise and fear are plastered across his features, far more freely than Verin’s ever seen him feel. He doesn’t talk and he seems to not even recognize him. Checking the rest of the room, the sword is returned to its sheath and Verin crouches, reaching a hand to Essek.

“Brother, what happened?” Silence, a whimper. “Essek? What’s wrong? It’s Verin, your brother.” His brows unknot, and the tension in his jaw slackens. There’s a looseness to his demeanor and as he stands he waves his hand as if to float, but nothing happens. He tries again and again. The first try was decisive, after watching him for so long Verin knows what it looks like when he casts it. The second time it’s not quite right, the third time it gets looser still. By the time Verin has stopped counting and Verin has grabbed Essek’s hands to calm him it seemed like Essek didn’t know what he was attempting to do.

“Is this some kind of spell? What happened?” His brother looks up with the face of a stranger. His eyes are open and sad, his ears fall just a touch and Essek leans in to hug Verin. He’s never wanted to do that before.

Verin hugs him back. “Oh Essie, what are we going to do?”

Caleb approaches Essek’s tower and is struck by immediate concern when the door doesn’t open for him. Essek always lets him in when he arrives, and with everything that’s happened he immediately panics. Caleb tries to tell himself Essek must be busy and has missed him tripping the wards. So, he lifts the knocker and gives the door a few raps.

He’d asked Caleb to meet him here to assist in the transport of his most important items after their trip to Aeor. He needs to run, he knows it and Caleb knows that turning himself in to the Dynasty would mean certain death so he’s agreed to help. No amount of good will from the Bright Queen would let them bargain for his favour. Selfishly, Caleb won’t allow him to get caught, so he will harbor Essek for some time, helping him stay out of the eyes of the Dynasty.

Eventually he knocks again, beginning to hold a firebolt just in case. “Uh, just a minute,” calls a stranger’s voice from behind the wood. “I’ll be right there.”

The door opens just a crack, “Who is it?”

“I am Caleb Widogast of the Mighty Nein, who is this?” His hand is up and encircled in flame.

“Oh thank the Light, one moment.” Whoever he is, he’s clearly relieved. Caleb’s firebolt stays held.

As the door opens Caleb is greeted by a tall drow, muscular with long braided back hair. He looks familiar but Caleb cannot place him. His features are slowly fading into relief from what must have been a deep concern. “Hello Caleb Widogast, I am Verin Thelyss and I am so glad you’re here. Your the wizard yes?”

Nodding, bewildered as he’s being dragged into Essek’s home by his brother, Caleb can hardly remember to respond, “Uh ja, that’s me. Where is Essek?”

“Well so I came by a few days ago and he didn’t let me into the tower which was weird. There have been some rumors going around and when our mother said he was back I had to ask. I don’t know if you know but… well it’s bad.”

He’s leading him upstairs as he explains and the back of Caleb’s neck is on fire. Verin doesn’t know, but there are rumors that are most likely true. Is he too late?

“So, I’m hoping since you also practice the arcane you might know what’s happened here and how to solve it.”

He leads Caleb into the library and Essek is seated on a chair idly flipping through a book far too quickly. It doesn’t even look like he’s reading, Caleb knows what he looks like when he’s reading. The quiet concentration and the tension it brings his jaw is completely missing. When Essek looks up at him there’s recognition but no words and when he rises to make his way to Caleb, he walks.

He’s wide-eyed and has a sweet smile across his face, it’s difficult to look away but if he doesn’t the heat rising in his cheeks will show. “Essek, what is it mein Freunde?”

No words. Why can’t he talk and why isn’t he floating?

“Essek?” A gentle hand reaches up to rest on his cheek and the heat takes over at the abrupt contact. Especially with Verin standing over his shoulder observing them. “Verin how long has he been like this?”

“About 2 days. I didn’t really know what had happened and if the Umavi found out well… I’m unsure what she would do.” Verin is a little more easier to map out than Essek had been initially and he’s been told enough stories about Dierta to understand the undercurrent of Verin’s words.

“Ja, I understand.” Verin starts at that and Caleb just continues past it, “I believe he has been affected by the spell Feeblemind. I - ah - have experience with this kind of thing. We have friends that can cure him but I will have to contact them, which I will not be able to do until tomorrow.”

Essek’s hand has wound its way into Caleb’s and he tries and fails miserably to contain the blush that he knows is spreading to his ears. Memories of little touches in Aeor flood back and Caleb pushes away thoughts of conversations he’d promised they’d have later, after Essek was safe. To call to attention this thing between them and get it out in the open before it drives him mad. Even if Essek’s feelings do not align with his it will be better to have it in the open.

“So this isn’t hurting him?”

Caleb turns to Essek, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He remembers a blur of time, when his mind had failed him. He remembers terror, looking down at his hands and not knowing whose they were. He didn’t have an anchor, nothing but his own thoughts, with someone there it might be different. Essek can’t understand him but the tone of voice seems to elicit some positive emotions and Essek squeezes his hand, a contented smile across his face, “He seems alright to me. It is unpleasant to be cut off from your casting, but he isn’t in pain and he isn’t alone.” It’s difficult to mitigate the emotion bleeding into his voice.

He pushes down memories of the years he’d been locked away and squeezes Essek’s hand back, reassuringly. “Have you gotten him to eat?”

Verin nods, “Occasionally. Probably not as much as he needs. I’m not exactly an excellent cook and nobody can see him like this so I’ve sent his staff away.”

“Alright, well I’ll just do this then.” he begins casting the tower, “I understand if you want to stay but if you need to go I can care for him.” he wants Verin to leave, he wants him gone so badly, to just take care of Essek properly without the shadow of somebody who doesn’t know hanging over them.

“I should be back to Bazzoxan soon. They’ll begin asking after me.” Caleb finishes casting the tower and leads Essek in. Just before he enters, Verin stops him, “You mean something to each other. I’ve never seen him act this way before, granted there’s an arcane influence but genuinely he has never smiled like he did when he saw you. I trust you with this because I think he would. Do not betray that.”

Caleb nods, “Of course not. We’ve faced the most difficult challenges of my life together and with our friends. I will care for him.” Verin seems satisfied with that and makes to leave, and Caleb enters the tower to find Essek waiting in the centre of the tower. He has an idea of where he wants to go. As the tower door closes behind Verin, he and Essek begin to drift upwards. Essek opens his mouth as if to reflexively murmur ‘up’ as had become their custom in their long travels together and his brows knot in distress, as if he’s realized again that his voice will not come. Caleb reaches for his hand, to comfort him and says it for them both, to which Essek smiles.

The drow releases Caleb’s hand and begins to swirl around, never leaving the central column and Caleb is forced to mirror his motions lest they collide. He flashes back to a moment of levity when they’d first come to Aeor. They had showboated then, dancing around each other as their works often did. This Essek is less restrained and his eyes and nose crinkle into a genuine smile when Caleb joins his frivolity.

They stop at the ninth floor which Caleb had known to be Esseks’ destination and immediately Essek lays on the pillows he always places in the corner. Usually, on their research expedition, he tranced in his room but on particularly emotional days they both preferred an expanse of stars above them as they rested. It became tradition and over time they’d drifted closer and closer together, until they would sometimes come to consciousness to find that through the night Essek had curled into Caleb’s side or that their hands had wound together unknowingly.

Now, Essek’s eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open in wonder as though it’s his first time seeing it all over again. Caleb stands over him, following his gaze up to the idly shifting starscape above. Caleb is quickly distracted by the versions of them that traverse different paths. Sometimes in each other’s company, other times in solitude. In a few they hold hands or make contact at the shoulders. Those are the ones he likes the most.

When his gaze is pulled back downwards, Essek stares up at him with a tenderness that quickly turns to expectation. He’s arranged burgundy cushions across the floor beside him for Caleb and so he obliges. As he stretches out across the crude bed slender, cool fingers interlock his own and he lays back and tells Essek of the constellations he’s hidden among the stars.

When Caleb himself was in this state he remembered lacking familiarity. Nothing around him made sense and the upheaval of his life only moments prior had only amplified the disorientation of the magic that kept him prisoner for 11 years.

Essek has someone to watch over him, he’s in a place that evidently brings him much joy and in recent months he’s found himself halfway to peace. Caleb finds his heart swell at the idea of making this experience bearable.

The silence was always the worst so he points to guide the elf’s eyes as he tells them the stories behind each constellation. He tells him of Nila, gentle and fierce. Of Twiggy, ever optimistic and wholly delightful. He tells him about Reani who Essek has spent some time with. Brief recognition flashes across his face, though it’s quickly replaced with frustration. Caleb remembers. He remembers knowing that someone was there who he should recognize but not having the words to know he had forgotten their name. He was in terror and treated everyone as a threat. Essek treats everything with wonder and discovery. The innocence is sweet and a syrupy feeling pools in Caleb’s throat as he’s again confronted with the way his heart swells when Essek looks at Caleb with that same contented smile.

He scoots closer and this is entirely too much. The idea that this version of Essek may curl into his side willingly, while they were fully conscious where the other version cannot unsettles him. Instead he stands, offering his hand, “Why don’t we get you something to eat ja?” There’s a momentary droop of his ears, much more pronounced than any movement he’d seen before before he lifts Essek and they go down to the dining room.

If there is to be anything significant between them it cannot be spurred under these circumstances. Caleb has to know he means it. As they wait while he cats prepare what had become their usual fare while traversing Aeor, he defaults to telling stories. First he tells him of the tunnels they traversed to reach the Dynasty, crafting an illusion as well as he can of the crystalline caves they made camp in. Food arrives and he continues weaving story and image as Essek picks at the well spiced soup comprised mainly of squash and potato. As he crafts an illusion of the dragon turtle they’d fought just after the peace talks out of amber and morphs its shape to a smaller turtle and then a sea slug, laughing to himself at the absurdity, he notices the clink of Essek’s spoon has long subsided.

Glancing over electric eyes focus on him instead of the illusion, so he drops it. “Ah, Es tut mir Leid, I know I tend to get carried away.” A little contented noise bubbles from Essek’s throat and his heart squeezes. In a desperate attempt to try and get Essek to eat more he turns back to his own soup and looks expectantly over to his friend.

Giving him a look of exasperation, he mirrors Caleb and eats most of the soup. Caleb rips up bread and encourages him to dip it in what’s left of the soup and finally, the bowl is empty. They leave the cats to clean up and Essek’s hand grasps Caleb’s again and squeezes. He knows he shouldn’t draw conclusions or let himself be taken by these gestures that the man wouldn’t make if he’d had the presence of mind, but it’s turning into a losing game.

With the time spent on the ninth floor and the prolonged battle of coaxing Essek to eat they only have a few hours until sleep. Essek takes his customary seat on the couch in the study and Caleb withdraws some of the lighter fiction that now populates the shelves. Lying back on the sofa, feet resting on the armrest, head by Essek he holds up the copy of Der Katzenprinz to show the illustrations. “You seem to like hearing me talk so why don’t I share this with you? Either way you won’t understand what I say so I will read it to you as it was originally intended.”

He begins, in Zemnian to tell him the fairy story that had brought him so much joy as a child, and the cats bring them hot chocolate as instructed. Warm mug in hand, Essek sits patiently through the story and as it turns to a close, picks up another of the books Caleb has gathered and thrusts it upon his chest. A real laugh bubbles up at that and he obliges.

As the night winds on and the mugs are emptied, Essek’s hand winds its way through Caleb’s hair, gently combing. When he looks up at Essek he’s met with soft, drooping eyes and a plain smile laced with nothing but care. He tries to stop Essek over the course of the book but finds that the drow always goes back to his hair so eventually, he leaves it. When Essek’s breaths even and elongate and he’s having trouble keeping his eyes open, Caleb sends him to trance.

He’s met with a slightly mournful look as Essek settles into the cushions he’s provided for trancing, but Caleb squeezes his shoulder, “If something goes wrong the cats will know to come get me. This is for the best.” Looking not at all reassured, but staying in place, Essek lets him leave without protest.

In the middle of sleep, dreamless and warm, there’s pressure. Then a caterwaul cuts through his subconscious followed by several more. He awakes with a start and immediately the cats gather around his feet as he pulls on slippers. They lead him to Essek’s room, where through the closed doors he can hear the sounds of furniture being disturbed.

Barging in, heart pounding, he finds Essek with tears streaming down his face. “Essek Schatz what’s wrong?” He kneels, abandoning any sense of propriety or boundaries and as he collapses into Caleb’s arms with nearly silent sobs he’s struck by how small the other man is.

“It’s alright Essek, whatever it was it cannot hurt you. I will keep you safe as you have done me.” They’ve never talked about the nights when the cats would do the same to Essek as they’d done to Caleb. When he’d been awoken from nightmares with angry red scratches down his forearms and a friend to bandage them. They’ve never quite discussed the comfort in Essek trancing just beside Caleb’s bed on difficult nights and he’s tried to stifle contemplation about the safety the man brings to his subconscious. The timing wasn’t right and despite his own longing he couldn’t make that step towards Essek. Not then.

Now, however, the elf shudders in his arms and he brings him into his lap, lighting soft amber globules of light to examine Essek. When he finds no physical harm he puts them out again and draws him in tighter as Essek clutches at the sides of his nightshirt and curls into his chest. He sings gentle lullabies his mother had once used to soothe him, voice cracking slightly as he flexes it in a long forgotten way. Eventually the shaking stops and breath becomes more solid, but hands stay grasped into his shirt so, with assistance from the cats, he maneuvers them into an easier sleeping position. Ever determined, Essek stays in his arms the whole time and when he tries to encourage him to trance beside him, arms wind around his waist.

“Okay, okay. If this will help.” Caleb resigns himself to creaky joints the next morning and sleeps with Essek in his arms, pushing away any indulgent thoughts of future nights spent with him in the same orientation.

When he awakes Essek is gone from his lap, though their fingers are laced and his head rests atop the drow’s on his shoulder. “Guten Morgen Essek.” He startles and smiles over at Caleb. Open, honest, vulnerable. They need to fix this. “I just need to prepare and then we will see Jester ja?” He receives a blank stare in return and nods to himself. “I will be back in a few moments and then we will go to Nicodranas. Just wait here.” He leaves and dresses quickly, returning to find Essek essentially where he’d been left. He takes a moment to glance over his spellbook and concentrates as he casts Sending, “Hallo Jester, I need your assistance with a pretty big restoration. Can you help today?”

She sounds half-asleep as she responds, “Caleb? Oh hi! Yeah I can help, just come to mama’s, we’re in Nicodranas. Oh my gosh I have to tell you, the dragon turtle-” her word economy same as ever.

“Okay Essek, Jester can help. I don’t know where you kept your parasol but I’m sure she can make you another.” With that they head out the door and Caleb transports them safely to the Lavish Chateau. Essek’s hand never leaves his.

Upon arrival they’re beset by a shouted greeting and Jester crushes Caleb in a hug before even realizing the other man is there. “Ohmigod Essek hi! I missed you!” Instead of awkwardly patting her back as he usually does, he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her in. “Hey Caleb, what’s going on with Essek?”

She pulls back and sees his broad smile and dancing eyes and looks at Caleb distinctly concerned. “Ah- I’m afraid he is a victim of the Feeblemind spell. It’s what they used against me in… well.” Her face clouds with understanding. “He’s okay physically though, whoever attacked him clearly just needed him out of the way. If you can use Greater Restoration that will undo the effects. He’s been ah - rather clingy.”

She waggles her eyebrows at him, making suggestive noise, and gets out the required diamond dust, sprinkling it delicately over Essek who watches in wonder. She puts both hands on her shoulders and green radiant energy emanates from her and passes to him. Before long he’s shaking his head and stepping back, voice hoarse from disuse, “Where- Jester? Thank you oh my gods thank you.”

She grins back at him, “I’m glad you’re back Essek! It’s a good thing Caleb brought you here you were acting so weird-”

She’s cut off as he chokes out, “Caleb.” and looks over with a deep violet flush and wide, apologetic eyes. “I ah- I am sorry for putting you through that. I-”

“Nein, do not apologize. Maybe we should get back to your tower to try and piece together who did this to you and what they were after ja?’

Essek nods and casts his levitation cantrip, shoulders sagging with relief when it works. “Yes, of course. Thank you Jester, I’m sorry we can’t stay but-”

She hugs the both of them again, “It’s okay, you have lots to talk about probably I don’t know bye!” she gives Caleb a wink as he begins casting the spell again and to his surprise Essek’s hand winds itself in his as they vanish.

They’re back in the tower and Caleb looks down, Essek’s hand still in his. Essek drops it and there’s a flush set deep into his cheeks and it spreads to his cheeks as their eyes meet. “Caleb I-” he swallows “I remember most of what happened, though not very clearly. I um-” his eyes are downcast and Caleb braces for what he believes to be coming, “Thank you for your patience. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable it is very difficult to explain but I think you’re aware of the feeling. I didn’t exactly have my full faculties and I fear I broke boundaries that may have encroached too far on your hospitality and our friendship.”

It’s difficult to see him so apologetic for the affection displayed. This thing between them has gone unspoken quite too long and before he realizes it he’s speaking, “Don’t apologize for that Schatz, I ah- I didn’t mind. There’s something I think we ought to discuss fairly plainly because I do not want to mince words about the way I feel anymore, it’s tiring.”

Essek looks up to meet him, steeling himself and as Caleb is about to speak he cuts him off, “I am aware enough of how I acted to realize I cannot properly hide my feelings further.” He takes a deep breath, the back of Caleb’s neck is burning and time has all but frozen, “I care deeply for you Caleb. It is difficult to bring myself to those words for I know this is the last thing I deserve but here I am, a fool for you. I know that there were moments in Aeor, I hold them close to my heart as precious things in a life of solitude. If you do not do the same, if you do not feel the same I will remain your friend if you’ll allow it, your research partner, anything. But-” he looks down almost sheepishly, “I owe it to you to be forthright and so I will tell you that if you’ll have me, I would very much like to see where this takes us.”

A smile breaks across Caleb’s face as their eyes meet, “May I kiss you?”

Essek draws in a sharp breath, eyes wide, and nods. It takes Caleb only a moment to close the gap, hands sliding around Essek’s waist and over the back of his neck as he leads them together. Essek’s hands hold his shoulders and his eyes flutter closed as their lips meet, electricity and heat mixing. When they finally pull back they’re both flushed. Essek lets out a huff of a laugh and Caleb wraps him tightly as he brings him in again, smiling into another kiss.

[essektheylyss]

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.”

“Why would you need—“

“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.

[protomun]

Hi I've got a prompt. Caleb gets hit with a Wild magic surge and gets turned into a small Child (Like luc's age) for an hour. He is fascinated by Essek.

One minute, Caleb’s hands are outstretched, twining string between his fingers, unleashing a fury of flames - where did he learn that? - and the next, he’s vanished into heat and the light, the magic surging and sparking as if it’s come alive. At first, Essek wonders if this is not the intended effect, but as the flames clear and he sees the truth of what has happened, he is struck by two jarring realizations at exactly the same time. The first is that his colleague is now twenty-some-odd years younger: a small child, wide-eyed and innocent. The second is that those same innocent eyes are staring - not unlike Essek’s own, awed and terrified looking upon him - into the visage of a monster easily ten times his newly polymorphed size.  “CALEB!” Veth’s voice is the one that rings him out of the shock that snares him. A bolt is loaded and fired; it pierces the screaming creature in its side. “Essek! Get him out of here!” Beau shouts over her shoulder, grabbing the brutish warbeast and quite literally bearing her face into its to provide him the moment that he needs to misty step the distance between himself and the boy. He arrives in a flourish of violet-hewn silk, cloak fluttering as he scoops the child that looks so very much like his fellow wizard into his arms. “Everything’s going to be alright,” he says as he runs - not floats, runs - and he isn’t sure if he’s trying to assure Caleb or himself. ----------------------------------------------- They are sitting in the hallway; Caleb’s legs kicking back and forth, Essek bowed and watching him. He cannot help the curiosity weaving through the panic concern that is on a constant loop of “how did this happen” and “how do I fix it”. This small boy beside him shares so much of Caleb - his masterfully unkempt tawny locks, his kind blue eyes, even his clothing is the same as it was, but as if tailored to a much smaller frame. The heaviness about the man he knows is gone; the worn crease of his brows, the haunted look in his eyes, always there beneath the surface - eyes that have known horrors - replaced by naivety and wonder. He is a quiet child; he has not said a word since they fled the fight, instead staring at the ground and occasionally casting furtive glances over when he seems to think Essek isn’t looking. At length, he looks at Essek. “You’re pretty cool looking. Are you a kryn?” “I am.” It strikes him how gentle the voice is, how polite; he has not been around children in some time. This is not quite how he imagined it would be like. “My dad says that the Kryn want to hurt us. But you saved me.” And there’s the rub. Of course an empire father would teach the fear to his child that Essek himself had inspired. It stings - the prick of new regret and old transgressions. He wants to crawl into a hole and pull it in after himself. “Your father is right that you should be careful, but I do not want to hurt you. I am going to sit here with you until our friends arrive. I am sure they will be along soon.”  The boy swings his legs a bit more. “I’m five.” Childleb says. “How old are you?” Essek can’t fight the smile that touches the corner of his lips. “A lot older than five.” It’s at this point that he thinks he hears a voice from down the hallway, and he stands to listen. His feet do not touch the floor, levitating just slightly above it - pomp and circumstance that comes as easily to him now as breathing. “Whoa! You can fly!” Childleb exclaims, and there's the excitement - that spark of discovery that Essek knows too well. “I can do a lot more than fly,” Essek responds, bemused.  Part of him surfaces, that part that Caleb - young or old(er) - inspires in him, the part that wants to show off all these years of learning. “Would you like to see another magic trick?” “Uhm...yes!” “Very well. A friend showed me this, some time ago. Stand back.” Childleb scooches backward.  Essek smiles and gestures. “A little further.” A few more scooches. Essek takes a breath, raises one hand. He focuses, concentrates. A layer of frost begins to condense on

the ground in front of them, quickly expanding into the shape of a cat’s paw that rises up - ice and starlight - and curls toward the boy, just close enough that he can touch. “Whoa!! COOL!" Childleb reaches out, runs his hands across it. He looks back to the elf. "I want to be a wizard someday.” The shadowpawhand’s breath comes a little quicker, heavy with exertion, but oh how pleased with himself he looks. I can learn your secrets just as you can learn mine. “You are a very smart boy, Caleb.”  “Yeah, I know.” His foot digs into the dirt and he rocks sideways a little, tossing the off-handed comment aside with the air of a boy who’s been praised more often than he’d like. But Essek kneels beside him as the paw dissipates, eyes catching the child’s. For the first time, he holds Childleb’s gaze, almost as if he is searching for a trace of the elder mind in the younger body. Are you watching me now? he thinks, but can see no sign if so. “What if I told you that one day you will be a wizard greater than even I can imagine?”  The boy’s eyes go wide. Dreaming of endless possibility. But just as quickly the moment passes. He wraps his arms (in sleeves just a touch too big) around himself and scoots a little closer to Essek. “Can I go home now? I don’t like this place. I want my mom. And Frumpkin.” Something - he can’t quite name the feeling - tugs at Essek’s heartstrings. “Soon. I’ll get you home soon.” I promise. “Will you come too?” “I would like that.”

[the-kaedageist]

This scene was cut from my most recent chapter of More Things in Heaven and Earth, and as it is cute and not spoilery, I thought I would post it here! You don’t really need any familiarity with that fic to enjoy this interlude, other than knowing that Caleb is currently in Guinevere’s body and Essek is in Oskar’s, and they are in Rexxentrum.

---------------------------------------------

As they made their way back through the gate to the Shimmer Ward, Caleb shaded his eyes against the setting sun, struck by another idea. “It is nearly time for dinner,” he said, “and I know just the place, if you are interested?”

Essek nodded. Caleb began to lead him back through the streets of the Shimmer Ward, towards Soltryce and the neighborhoods that he’d frequented in his youth. Things here and there were different – it was hard to say if it was due to time’s passage or the fact that they were in another universe – but the majority of the city remained the same, and Caleb began to grow excited at the thought of sharing his favorite beer hall with Essek. Perhaps he could invite him for a dance…

They came to a stop in front of the place where the beer hall should have stood. Caleb glared with utter disdain at the upscale wine bar that had taken its place.

Essek wandered up to the window and peered inside curiously, his eyes alight. “This is where you intended to take me?” he asked with a small, pleased smile.

Caleb bit his lip, his frustration dying as quickly as it had flared up in the face of Essek’s enthusiasm. “It was intended to be a beer hall,” he said. “This was my, ah, old haunt when I was a student; it appears, in this world, that it has been gentrified. But I think you would be interested in trying it anyway?”

“I have not had as many opportunities to sample Empire wines as I would have liked,” Essek said. “Shall we?”

The wine bar that had replaced Hofbräuhaus had a cozy, dark interior lit with magical fairy lights, with a dimly lit map of the Menagerie Coast painted across the side and large, plush booths lining the walls The new ownership had retained the dance floor that featured so prominently in Caleb’s memories, but redecorated it with dark, stained wood flooring and lovely crimson curtains. Beautiful carvings of Nicodranas and other cities of the Menagerie Coast dotted the walls, and Caleb found his gaze caught by a particularly fetching relief of a very familiar building as he and Essek were led to a small, out of the way booth. The Lavish Chateau looked very similar in this world, it would seem, and he was immensely pleased to see it still existed.

They were seated in a booth that was plush beyond belief; Caleb immediately sunk into the crushed velvet of the upholstery. Across from him, Essek’s eyes crinkled into a smile as the dragonborn host left them with menus etched in a tiny, neat hand and glasses of water.

It was absurdly high class, far more than the beer hall had been. Essek looked positively delighted by every detail.

Caleb glanced down at the menu, squinting to read the details. “They have Lionett wine,” he said immediately, his eye catching on the familiar name.

Essek raised an eyebrow. “Beauregard’s family?”

“Interesting that the décor is themed after the Menagerie Coast, yet the wine is from the Empire,” Caleb observed.

A stuffy-looking waiter popped up at his elbow, surprising him. “Actually, we carry a wide variety of selections from all across the Marrow Valley, western Wynandir, and the Menagerie Coast,” the man said. He was wearing spectacles and had a neat little moustache, exactly as Caleb would have expected of such a place.

“And eastern Wynandir?” Essek asked, his expression deeply serious, which Caleb had learned was one of his tells that he was absolutely fucking with someone. “I have heard the Dynasty has many fine vintages.”

The waiter scoffed. “I’m sure they do, but you try getting those shipped into Rexxentrum with the war on. Might I suggest a bottle of ’20 Plumgroves Red? That was the year the hurricane swept through Feolinn, and only 300 bottles were ever produced. A rare delicacy, to be sure.” 

Essek’s eyes lit up.

“And undoubtably quite expensive,” Caleb said carefully, immediately knowing they didn’t have the cash for such a purchase. “I think we are looking for something more…affordable.”

The waiter didn’t even blink, reaching into his pocket and whisking out two more menus. “Here is our tasting menu, which may be more to your purse’s liking,” he said. Despite the lack of judgment in his voice, he’d lost much of his salesman’s panache with the realization that they weren’t high rollers.

Essek scanned the smaller menu. “I think perhaps we would be interested in the Feolinn sampler,” he said. He glanced up at Caleb. “If that is to your liking?”

Caleb smiled. “Anything you wish to try, my friend.” They also put in an order for a few of the small-plate dinner items in the Menagerie Coast style to be shared between them and the waiter left them to themselves, returning a few moments later with the sampler of Feolinn wines.

Essek sipped at the first offering the moment the waiter had vanished, closing his eyes while tasting it. Caleb watched, amused and just enjoying being present with him, distracting him from the events of the coming day; he could focus just on Essek, his reactions and his soft questions and his occasional smile, with soft music from the small quartet in the corner. Despite his pique at his favorite beer hall being replaced, the wine bar’s romantic atmosphere was absolutely perfect.

“How is it?” he asked as Essek sipped the first sampler once more.

He made a face. “Interesting. Drier than most Dynasty vintages, although I suppose perhaps that is the style.”

“I had no idea you were as much a wine snob as Beauregard,” Caleb said with a laugh. “Although I suppose you did bring us that expensive bottle back in Rosohna.”

 “Wine was one of the markers of status in my family,” Essek said. “I was trained to know it well.” He sampled the second option, his face much more agreeable. “This is much better,” he added.

“We shall have to bring you and Beauregard out to have wine together,” Caleb said with a small smile. “I think you will find much to speak on.”

The small plates arrived soon after, with samplings of various types of Menagerie Coast fare – richly seasoned carrots and asparagus, a delightful mix of seafoods, and some interesting spiced potato fritters. Caleb and Essek split the dishes between them, and it was quite nice to indulge in dinner, just the two of them, in a city that had once captured his heart and then broken it into a million pieces.

By the time they finished eating, Essek had already snagged the waiter for a second sampler, this time of Marrow Valley wines. Caleb could feel a pleasant tipsiness settling through him; he was used to having much more alcohol tolerance than Guinevere.

He looked over at Essek, who was critiquing his current sampler of wine with a delighted expression on his face that suggested he’d rather be nowhere else but there. Caleb couldn’t draw his eyes away. Even in a body that was not his own, in a world that was completely foreign, Essek was the brightest thing in the room.

Essek stopped speaking mid-sentence when he caught Caleb’s stare. “What?” he asked.

Caleb knew the smile that spread across his face was far too fond, but had absolutely no incentive to hide it. “It is nice, to see you so passionate.”

A flush went up the back of Essek’s neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. The small quartet in the corner struck up a new tune, soft and romantic. A few patrons from other booths began to move to the dance floor, and Caleb had the sudden impression that this was a popular date spot.

He reached over and took Essek’s hand, not sure if it was the haze of the alcohol, the rich attraction between them, or the strangeness of this world, but caught up in the magic of him all the same. It was strange, to realize that despite the revelations of the evening before, despite the coming day with all of its challenges, Caleb was happy.

[ariadne-mouse]

Hello! For a Shadowgast Prompt how about combining 20 and 24. 💜💜💜

(this is also for the other anon who requested 20 & Shadowgast!)

20 - alone, finally and 24 - tender

It takes two weeks after the almost-end of the world for Caleb and Essek to finally end up alone together. It’s not for long - the others will return from errands soon - and it’s far too little time to sort out the intimidating tangle of things left unsaid between them.

Caleb wonders if there will ever be enough time.

“Do you think you can help me start to categorize all of this?” he says, opening his Vault of Amber. A mountain of papers and books springs into being, the best and easiest fallback that Caleb knows for any conversation between wizards.

“I would be happy to,” Essek replies, looking truthful, but also relieved. It seems Caleb is not the only one floundering in the fact of their survival.

They work together companionably, with growing focus, to the point where the return of the rest of the Mighty Nein is a blur in the background. It’s only when Caleb reflexively casts Dancing Lights against the growing dark that he realizes it is night, and they are alone again.

“We should stop here, I think,” he says, yawning as his body remembers he should be tired. “Will you help me again later?”

“Of course,” Essek replies. The curve of his smile is gilded amber under Caleb’s lights. “I would be happy to.”

(Send me a prompt for a short snippet!)

[elizabethemerald]

Fall Aboard the Fool’s Crown

Kingsley scowled as he looked out over the prow of the Fool’s Crown. Their ship was a great many things but it was certainly out classed by the frigate they could see approaching. He was trying to make a name for himself as a pirate and of course, a damn bounty hunter has to chase him down. He was struck out of his thoughts by a cheery voice in his head. 

“Hi Kingsley! It’s Jester! We just saw the biggest sea turtle! Fjord was trying to be brave but I could see he was super afraid-”

“Oh Hello Joy. You and the captain wouldn’t happen to be in the area of Bisaft Island are you? I could use some help here.”

His voice was strained with worry. The bounty hunter ship could sink his without breaking a sweat. He waited a few seconds for a reply, knowing it was a long shot that the Nein Heroes was any where close. Instead he was met with silence. He turned away to give some orders to his crew. 

The pirate hunter was gaining fast as the minutes passed, all the tricks Kingsley had learned from Fjord were coming up empty. The first roar of canon fire carried across the water followed by a splash, spray jumping up to wet the stern. 

Kingsley was just considering how likely it was that the crew would be spared if he surrendered, when a series of pops carried across the deck, followed by the sound of eight pairs of feet landing on the wood. He turned, relief palpable on his face to see the Mighty Nein steadying themselves. 

Caduceus ran to the edge and cast Control Water as soon as he had eyes on the ship. The resulting tidal wave pushed the pirate hunter out of range of their canons before The Fool’s Crown could be hit by a broad side. 

Yasha’s wings burst into existence as she grabbed her wife around the waist and took to the air flying towards the ship that was again attempting to close the distance. Essek and Caleb cast fly on themselves, soaring alongside Yasha and Beau, Fireballs and Gravity Sinkholes targeting the offending ship. 

“We came as soon as we could.” Fjord said. He stepped to the edge of the deck, and after eyeing the approaching ship cast Arcane Gate creating a doorway to the far ship. He lead the way through, quickly followed by Caduceus and Veth who was casting Invisibility on herself as she ran. 

Kingsley realized he was staring open mouthed. He had asked on a whim, on a faint hope that they might at least find the wreckage of his ship, or maybe be willing to break him out if he was taken alive by the bounty hunters. Yet they were here. His entire family here because he asked. Jester saw him staring and paused as she was about to walk through the Gate. Instead she stepped up to him, concern on her face. 

“I’m endlessly amazed, how much you all do for each other. All this because you loved him?”

“Oh Kingsley, We didn’t do this because we loved Molly. We did it because we love you!” Jester said in her lilting accent. She grabbed his hands, holding them tight, not breaking eye contact. “We loved Molly. And even though it may have taken a little adjustment, we love you too. For yourself, not for Molly.”

He hesitated, emotions too strong to look in the face suddenly overwhelming him. He reminded himself that he woke up surrounded by love, that his first memories were filled with hugs, relieved faces, and happy tears. They smiled past the lump in their throat, Jester beaming in return. 

“Now do you want to teleport over there and kick some ass ourselves?” Jester asked, already starting to cast a spell. 

“Sounds like a terrible idea.” Kingsley said with a laugh. “I would be delighted to.”

Together the two of them Dimension Doored to the distant ship. The fight was already mostly over, but neither of them were ones to stay out of a scrap if they could help it. Essek and Caleb stayed in the air, no longer raining hell on the deck, now mostly focused on counter spelling the two deck wizards so neither could get a spell off. There were several dead crew members with bolts sticking out of them. Green blasts of eldritch energy flew, targeting the captain. Beau and Yasha were quickly finishing up their quarter of the fight, back to back, sentinel wives to the end. They both shimmered with the magic of the Wildmother as Cad healed their wounds. 

Jester and Kingsley stepped out from the Dimension Door and joined the fray, lollipop clashing alongside Kingsley’s cutlass. He smiled, and laughed, holy fire burning down the length of his blade. Again fighting side by side with the family the loved him. The family that he loved back, just as fiercely.

[intergalacticwanderer]

The concept from this post of Molly haunting the M9 but disappearing when the Tomb Takers resurrect Lucien is something that I just. Keep thinking about.

First realizing something is up when Molly accidentally possesses Beau during the assault on the Sour Nest. Everyone being very confused after the fight as to why Beau is so agitated and shouting at nothing. Finally put two and two together that Molly is THERE but can only be seen or heard after possessing someone and there’s a bunch of sudden body hopping and even more shouting. Caduceus being very apprehensive and warning everyone else about the potential dangers but settles for being watchful when they insist it’s okay.

Molly hovering anxiously around Yasha while waiting for her to wake up, but not being able to explain the situation to her before visiting the grave and her still leaving the group in grief. Heavy conversations at the grave about what things are like for Molly now and that honestly, he really doesn’t like being a ghost, but not seeing a way out of it besides being destroyed because he doesn’t even know WHY he’s a ghost. Making an informal goal to fix things for Molly somehow, and Caduceus calmly and comfortingly offering to help him find a way to move on if he’d prefer to do that instead. A coat is still left behind as a promise.

Yasha meeting them again after they travel to the coast and the emotional moment where they’re finally able to explain what’s going on. The whirlwind of the next few weeks and months as they all travel together, Molly spending short stints riding along with someone else so he can at least FEEL something for a little while. Acting as a scout and look out for danger for the rest of the group, but everyone else being careful to not say too much about him around others.

(Standing on the deck of their ship, looking at the night sky splashed with stars and waves crashing around them and Molly longing, aching for the chance to feel the sea breeze in person. Wanting to chase the horizon and new experiences, bound to nothing and no one except for what he chooses.)

Being forced to watch, helpless, as Yasha is taken by Obann. A turning point as Molly insists on staying behind with Yasha, staying with her even as she’s controlled, he knows what being possessed looks like, that’s NOT her. It’s dangerous, yes, but less dangerous to him, he can stay with her, do his best to keep watch, she’s worth the risk. Truly splitting up for the first time since he started haunting them, barely seeing each other, connecting for a few frantic moments during a tense chase through the woods at night before Molly is gone again, following Yasha and Obann as they teleport away. Not realizing as they enter the Folding Halls of Halas that that was the last time they’d see him.

A hard fought but victorious battle at the Chantry of the Dawn. Yasha returned to them, only to be followed by that horrible moment of, wait, I thought he was with YOU, what do you mean he’s not with you? But Molly is no where to be found. By anyone. The realization that he might truly be gone for good, and no one was even there to see it happen.

Delayed grief hits home and it hits HARD. They lean on each other, be there for each other, and try to keep themselves occupied with the next tasks in front of them. A dinner with a possible new friend. Tricking a hag. Visiting the Menagerie. A betrayal, returning Nott to Veth, a party, a tough conversation with hope for the future, ending a war. Finally making their way to Traveler Con and Rumblecusp, memories slipping away under a strange influence (there was a coat), stopping that strange influence once and for all and receiving a vision more important that any of them could realize.

Going home and looking for information while deciding what to do next. Eventually coming to the decision to visit a grave for answers. Wondering if this might finally be the chance to give their friend what he’d been looking for, a chance to live, to feel again, but also guilt that they couldn’t do it sooner, worry that it might already be too late. They start digging for the body.

A body that’s not there.

A body that’s not there because he’s already alive again.

There’s elation and shock but also confusion and wariness. Why was the coat left behind? Why had no effort been made to contact them, to contact Yasha? What is going on?

Finding out what's going on several days later with the abrupt murder of Vess DeRogna and everything being thrown into chaos. Giving chase to figure out the answers to all the new questions, and upon finally catching up to this mystery, the person with the face of their friend? No memories, no recognition. Not Mollymauk. Lucien.

Being told that Mollymauk had just been a fragment of a larger whole, an insignificant speck that didn't matter (but he mattered to them) and has been reabsorbed. Putting two and two together with the timing of Lucien's resurrection and Molly's disappearance. Grappling with the implications of what this might mean, what does this mean for their friend? Not knowing the answer but pushing forward anyway, knowing that Lucien has to be stopped, and hoping somehow, someway, they might get their friend back, but not seeing how.

Traveling together is unexpected and even more confusing. Seeing echoes, reflections of their friend in Lucien, seeing the roots of where he came from but simultaneously seeing the ways he is NOT him (let her have her?!) and not knowing what to do with it. Having the choice made for them in the night, chasing after and fleeing away for their lives. Finding safe haven with a guiding star.

Taking only a moment to breathe before rushing ahead. Nearly tripping and falling when Caleb’s past comes calling but (barely) managing to get up again, returning and making their way into Aeor with Essek at their side. Felling three of the Tomb Takers and then the chase is on, racing against the clock and Lucien before catching up with him and Cree at a gate. Noticing something strange in how Lucien reacts to certain words, keeping it in mind as they jump after him into the astral sea.

Dealing with the figurative and literal nightmare that is Cognouza, stopping Cree, plane shifting a threshold crest, saving Yussa. Witnessing a coup by Lucien, who, for some reason, still tells them to run. Leaves them alive (why did I leave you alive?). A battle for the fate of the world.

Fighting back, talking back, and something inside him listens. Hears them as they reach out. Hammer, hammer, hammering away with both weapons and words in the hardest fight of their lives. Some even losing their lives, until, finally, they triumph, Cognouza Incarnate slain. Two lost lives restored... and one more left to try. To give another chance.

It fails.

They mourn, heartbroken. Figuring that if nothing else, he's no longer trapped. Wishing that they could have done more. Hoping that he will be able to rest. Caduceus sending up a prayer.

It succeeds.

Elation, shock, reunions, tears. Single words that speak volumes. Showering with love, they did it, they kept their promise, they did it! Returning to the Blooming Grove hand in hand, all nine of them at last.

Checking in with their restored friend that night and the next day. Coming back to himself and yet not. Memories are gone but he's not blank either, knowing he's with friends but not knowing how he knows. A mind that can't remember but a heart that does, feelings instead of names. A new name and a new start.

Danger follows them, briefly, but it is smacked down, dealt with. Humbled and brought low and given the amount of respect it deserves, which is to say, none. They exhale, exhausted but accomplished. Taking time for much needed rest.

Noticing things about him during the rest. Hugs that linger, clinging a little too tight. Hours spent lying in the grass, hands running through the blades over and over while watching the clouds. Visits to flower after flower, touching petals and breathing deep. Almost crying over a new food, a new taste before eating himself sick. Leaning in at any music, any song, attention lost towards anything else. Closing his eyes and listening to the sounds of nature in the evening, just being. Existing. Living.

Later traveling to Nicodranas. Him watching the ocean, transfixed. Walking to the shore, closing his eyes and breathing in as the sea breeze blows through his hair. Starting to cry without even knowing why. (His mind can't recall the memory, not yet, but his heart does, aching at the clarity. An ache that can hopefully be soothed, now that that longing has been fulfilled.)

Not even questioning it when he joins the crew of the Nein Heroez. Parting ways, but also knowing that they will ALL be seeing each other again soon (too much love amongst them for anything else), starting the next journey. Getting a second chance.

Living life. Being happy. And knowing that he will never have to be alone again.