#a standard fireplace and a stone fireplace leather chair

[richtigezahnpflege]

Living Room - Open

[sen-jou]

Loft-Style Family Room

[fourteen-steps]

Contemporary Home Office - Built-In

[sertane-j0]

Library - Transitional Living Room

[jamesmdavisson]

Living Room Home Bar (New York)

[blizzard-bells]

Enclosed (Philadelphia)

[laurellancesource]

Living Room - Enclosed

[raininginthenight]

Living Room in Minneapolis

[wearetekkenrp]

Transitional Family Room - Enclosed

[xgosiax]

Open Library in Denver

[lawlietisawesome]

Home Bar - Southwestern Living Room

[chasing-after-memories]

Open - Rustic Living Room

[crazyclau]

Home Office Library (DC Metro)

[decorbuziers-memorial]

Transitional Family Room - Family Room

[legohlas]

Living Room (Minneapolis)

[just-a-funny-little-brain]

Aging and Anamnesis

Critical Role: The Mighty Nein, Caleb/Essek, 800

Summary: Essek is old, now. A slow moving morning is a time perfect for reminiscing.

tw: discussion of death, aging

Read it on Ao3! 

-------

Essek is old, now. Old even by elven standards and positively ancient by human ones. His name is whispered within halls of dunamantic study, half legend in its reputation. And sometimes, if he’s lucky and if students have truly delved deep into the history of the field, another name accompanies it.

The body, of course, is in Blumenthol. Modify Memory and a very persuasive human-looking Fjord made easy work of the local permissions needed to bury him alongside his parents. Caduceus, after coming down to help with the process, had offered to take a token back to the Blooming Grove, where the rest of the Nein had agreed to be buried alongside Jester. So, the component pouch and his transmuter stone made the trek north. 

That was in the past though, when Caduceus’s hair was still pink, and Essek’s own was silver-white by choice, not by age. When he hovered out of habit, rather than because the stairs hurt his knees.

A pot of green beans grows in his kitchen, the dim sky supplemented by a tiny bauble Caduceus enchanted with Daylight. Essek greets it each morning. He doesn’t name it. That would be silly. 

The rest of the den— mostly his mother, really. His mother used to ask why he didn’t find a partner. He didn’t have the courage to tell her that his heart was already taken, until it no longer mattered. But by then the questions had begun to die down, so Essek paid it no mind.

It’s early afternoon right now, though you couldn’t tell by the sky. Essek slowly floats his way up to the laboratory-turned-study. The various vials and stands had been pushed to the side decades ago, then eventually removed. Instead, a large welcoming fireplace sits along the wall. Above, a series of equally large paintings reflect the many schools of magic, each with their own design merging Xhorhasian and Zemnian styles. A celebration of the continuing peace between the countries, he had told the artist. The artist did not ask why, then, the proposed pieces made him sad.

“Prrrrouw?” A calico tail slinks around his legs.

Essek smiles. “Hello, Mieze. Care to join me for some tea?”

Crossing to the fireplace, he raises his arm as if to reach out and touch the embers, but instead spins and lifts his hand as the flames flicker back to life.

A dark red-brown leather book sits off center on the mantle, a small stone carving of a sleeping cat atop it. The pages are tattered and torn, a few singed. Essek could recite the words and notes it holds verbatim, if asked. 

Nobody has asked.

He waves his hand over the book, and the miniscule layer of accumulated dust disappears.

After a moment, he floats over to a comfortable chair and beckons a book from the wall. It didn’t much matter which book; it was simply something to absorb his time. 

A cup of tea floats over and lands gently on the table. 

“Thank you,” Essek murmurs, out of habit more than anything. 

The Unseen Servant does not reply.

Essek lets out a sigh as he settles into the chair. 

“Mrow?”

He pats his lap. “Yes, Mieze, you may join.”

Soft pads land on his lap, spinning once before curling into a rumbling ball.

Slowly, the hours pass as Essek only pays half attention to the words on the page, the rest of his mind wondering and wandering the world.

They’d traveled, once Caleb was more satisfied with the state of the Assembly. Between semesters or on sabbaticals, they would travel to the furthest circle they had the sigil for, or if they were feeling particularly ambitious, would Teleport to a new location altogether. All too soon, however, Caleb’s aging body had begun to make travel more difficult, even with the comforts of the tower. Travel lost much of its luster after that.

Essek sighs and closes the book. Mieze stretches out her arms before returning to her nap. With a small smile, Essek looks up at the tri-clock on the wall. 

Almost of its own accord, Essek’s hand begins to trace a sigil in the air, before carving out an ethereal string that vibrates as he speaks. “Good morning, Caduceus. If you are not too busy with the small ones today, may I come for a visit? I’ve been missing... your tea.” He pauses for a moment, then releases the thread to travel into the aether.

A pause floats through the air.

“Hey, Essek. Of course, old friend. We would love to have you. Caleb is even in bloom right now.”

A smile crosses Essek’s face. “Unfortunate news, Mieze,” he says, gently lifting her from his lap and replacing her in the still-warm seat. She lets out a mew of indignation, but quickly settles back in. “I thought so,” Essek says, running a hand down her head. “I’ll be back soon.”

With one more scratch for good measure, Essek drifts to the center of the room, says a few arcane words, and disappears.