#he's like lebby light?

[rainbowcaleb]

A Scaled Splendor

A MerMay story - read on ao3

“Okay Lebby, explain this again but this time make sense.” Veth pops her hip out and stares down at Caleb, her other hand shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun. The effect of the bright unclouded sky on the ocean is blinding, almost hiding any swimmers amidst the sliver glinting light.

“Ja, so there is a tale from my childhood, ah— no, I would be remiss to say it is a story only in the Empire when every culture with a body of water has–”

“Cay. Leb. What did I just say.” Veth kicks some water his way.

“Okay, okay. The mermaid. It is a story but a romantic one. Not every version, no, but fishes and princes and kisses–”

“And kisses?!”

“Well, ja, I have hopes. But I thought it would be a good surprise.”

Veth continues to stare for one, three, ten long beats. Then lets out a whoop of a laugh, grabbing her middle as the entirely unsuppressed mirth shakes her body.

“It was not a bad idea–” Caleb starts, a pout in his voice.

“No, it's,” Veth wipes tears from her eyes, voice still shaking from giggles. “It is a good idea, but that still doesn’t explain, you know.” She waves a hand up and down in his direction. The crystal clear waters of this shore do nothing to hide his form, and the high sun only touches him with extra sparkle. Glistening golden scales that flash to orange and umber as they shift with Caleb’s movement, like he has been dipped in molten gold and reforged in intricate, layered detail.

“This is my first time doing this particular spell modification.” He sounds petulant, even to his own ears.

“Caleb.”

“This is quite a hard spell, and the materials alone–”

“Lebby.”

“Ja, okay, I fucked up.” Caleb sighs, and it is quite an interesting sound and motion coming from a golden fish’s mouth.

Veth starts to laugh again, her noise another wave building upon Caleb’s rising feelings of woe-is-me.

“Do you think Essek likes fish, really likes them?” Veth doesn’t even bother to wipe her eyes this time. “Loves them so much he’ll kiss ‘em? Or maybe we should ask Yasha, she does have that fish market experience.”

Caleb sits down in the shallow water on the shore’s edge, able to cross his legs but not his arms, for indeed he has succeeded in his mermaid ambitions but unfortunately on the wrong half.

“I have an idea, I’ll run and get Fjord right now, you know that boy practiced his kissing skills on fish growing up, I’m sure he has some tips–”

“Veth, please.” Caleb flops sideways, re-dousing his upper half in the water, and feeling just as morose as a fish out of water could be.

“Sorry Lebby, but our years of friendship means I can make fun of you for another five minutes. And oh boy do I have some jokes on the tip of my tongue.”

“And then you’ll help me fix this?”

She crouches down and pets his scaly head, then draws her hand back to shake off the water. “Of course Caleb, what do you take me for? I wouldn’t use this as an oppor-tuna-ty to make fin of you, no of course not, I’d love you for a krill-ion years as a fish or a man!”

Caleb starfishes in the water, pushing the sand around with his little arm fins and his two human legs. This was his fate now.

“Aw, you don’t like my jokes? Yeah, I cod do betta than that, even though this is kraken me up–”

Caleb stares up at the crisp blue sky and closes his eyelids against the yellow sun. Everything was much too bright and much too colorful for his new eyes. Maybe he should just float here for a while, surely it’ll wear off in an hour, surely the spell will end faster than Veth’s jokes can last…

(Thank you for reading! 💙)

[blackrose-ffxiv]

Dress for the Class You Want 07/17

After adjusting his beret for the thousandth time, changing his gloves to nicer leather ones, and pulling his coat a bit more snugly around himself, Quincy Pallene departed at last for the Scholasticate. He walked at just the right pace, took just the right route, and thus arrived at just the right time to the Scholasticate. He was nervous as he approached the proctor standing at the door, and politely requested Onfroi Haillenarte, who should be expecting him. At that point, he tucked himself politely near a stained glass window, hands tucked behind his back, to wait for his...friend's...arrival.

Onfroi de Haillenarte looked much as he did on the last visit. The same black robes of a scholasticate student. The same glasses. The same unkempt hair. He slouched slightly in the doorway, not quite leaving the safety of the scholasticate’s grounds as he peered around. His gaze didn’t even settle on Quincy at first. He seemed to be looking for something else. When he didn’t find it he finally turned his attention fully to the redhead. “Anselme didn’t come with you today.” He noted as he finally left the shelter of the doorway and walked to join the other near the stained glass. “I didn’t expect you to come alone. Hello again.” A hand lifted and fingers curled into a half-hearted sort of greeting.

Quincy gave a polite bow, making no move to shake Onfroi's hand. He shrugged. "Anselme is busy most of the time. He's training with the Argent dragoons to keep in shape, and helping with a few misadventures. I see him at meals, would you like me to take him a message to come see you?" He offered politely. He downplayed the fact that Anselme sometimes found Quincy in his study corner of choice to eat cookies -- Onfroi didn't need any ammunition.

Lips pursed briefly before the older boy smiled, dropping his hand back to his side as though it had become too troublesome to hold it up any longer. “No. Now that I know where he is I can find him. I didn’t expect you to come at all.” He rephrased. “Especially by yourself. I thought I had scared you away.” Almost as an afterthought he tilted a fraction forwards in what was probably a bow.

Quincy looked mildly uncomfortable, then huffed. "You," he said carefully, "are probably the least scary thing I have faced in cycles and cycles. You have no idea what scary is. This is an opportunity that I won't pass up, so I am afraid you will have to keep to your word. I'm sure you don't mind -- I'll be a novelty that you can tout about, so long as I get what I want, too." He lifts his chin, doing his best to be brave. "I want to know what to do to get in here."

The elezen’s head tilted about forty five degrees to the right in a sudden motion as he knocked his bangs out of his eyes to peer more intently at the hyur. The Haillenarte brothers shared the same pale blue eyes, yet on one it was a summer sky, another a frozen tundra and on this one the closest approximation was an uncut tourmaline, rough but with hints of something sparkling underneath. “You’re a bit rude.” Onfroi noted flatly. “But that’s to be expected and I’m glad you came back. I even hope you pass your exams.” He stated as though he should be congratulated on his benevolence. A shoulder tilted to indicate the direction of the door and Onfroi turned on his heel to head back, assuming Quincy would follow.

"You were rude first." Quincy retorts, just as bluntly. He then smiles sweetly. "But that's to be expected. I'm glad I came back, too. I wore a nice ruff." He reaches up, pulling his hat off and smoothing his hair before he tucks the chappeu into a pocket of his satchel. He followed after Onfroi with no comment on how kind he was. People didn't get accolades for not being terrible, at least not in Quincy's book. "I'm smarter than almost everyone, so I don't suppose it will be too difficult. One must always be prepared, though. You can't study too much."

“I’m allowed to be.” He explained as he led the way through the hallways back towards the library. The elezen’s attention moved over to what Quincy was wearing, as though noticing it for the first time. “So you did. It looks funny on you, your neck is short.” He explained, though the small smile had returned. The doors to the library were already open, a few students studying hard at tables around the room but Onfroi headed directly for one of the open ones. “It’s good you tried, though.” He added on as he patted the table he had claimed as theirs.

Quincy was annoyed. Onfroi was such a brat. "No one has any excuse anymore to be an awful person, Onfroi," He pointed out, even as he produced a cloth from his satchel and set to wiping off his seat and the table before the seat. Only then did he sit, and produce parchment, quill, and inkwell, and set to arranging them neatly in front of himself. "These were a gift from the man I'm going to apprentice to. He paid the personal tailor to the Argents to make it for me. I think it looks quite nice."

“I’m being honest. Not awful.” Onfroi clarified, holding up a finger then pointing where the other boy was seated to instruct him to wait there. The elezen wandered off in a little more direct pace now that he had a clear objective in mind, gathering up a few books before he returned to set them down in front of Quincy, keeping the spines turned towards himself to obscure the titles for the moment. Then he continued. “Don’t trust older men with expensive gifts.” He suggested calmly as he picked up the first book and turned it to face Quincy. “What if they want you to pay it back.” Book number one was the ever-popular much-debated Enchiridion. “This one doesn’t matter as much anymore but you should still be familiar. If you aren’t already.”

"Who hasn't read about the Fury? It was one of the few books the Archives had multiple copies of. I've read the past four editions, of course, and the changes were subtle but fascinating. You've obviously read the first edition and this one?" He pulled it over, flipping open the cover. "Ah, a third." He made a careful note. "Third edition, Enchiridion." He murmured to himself. "As for Sir Lionnet wanting me to pay anything back, I doubt it. He's just eager to see me get in here. The Argents will be sponsoring me, though, and I wanted to talk to Anselme about sponsoring me as well. A ward of one House and a friend to another -- quite the resume, is it not?"

The smile grew somewhat as Quincy took the book and flipped through it, marking it easily for what it was and even which edition. “You are plainly well-read. You did say you had a job didn’t you? Which means sums won’t be a problem.” He turned the next book around and laid it down in front of Quincy. A History of Ishgard, already decried as being full of inaccuracies and better suited for bed time stories than fact. “Resourceful too if you’re already gathering connections and building yourself a case. Admirable in smallfolk, making do with everything they have. What did you want to study here?”

Quincy copied down the title, though he shook his head in amusement. "Aren't they moving on from the History of Isghard to the Revelations of Ishgardian History? It's a new book, but it shouldn't be difficult for the Scholasticate to obtain at least one copy." He murmured, before looking up at Onfroi. "You have no idea what resourceful is, Onfroi, you wouldn't last a day where I came from. In fact, I'd be quite impressed if you lasted a bell. I have had three jobs, and I am still working at two of them, of course, to save for my tuition. I translate books into braille for the heads of House de'Bayle, and I organize and tend the library for House Argent at the moment. Sums are easy enough, however, but if there are complex calculations I will need to brush up. I've several books for that, though, now." He smiled a bit. "I learned everything I know by myself, too."

The older boy giggled quietly as he laid the next book atop the first. Sure enough, it was Revelations. “These can’t leave the library, as they’re reference copies. Yet seeing how resourceful you are, I don’t think it will be a problem for you to acquire your own. If the Argents don’t already have a copy or two.” He settled both of his hands atop the stack of books not yet revealed, shaking his bangs out of his face as he listened to the redhead’s ‘resume’. “I want to see you last through a society tea in return.” He suggested calmly, perhaps misunderstanding Quincy’s strutting as an actual challenge. “With handshakes proper greetings.”

Quincy grinned. He was right! He copied down that title as well, looking pleased with himself. His penmanship, of course, was exquisite. "The Argents do have a copy of both, I've skimmed them, helping my friend Luca prepare civics lessons for his sisters." He paused at Onfroi's challenge, then looked thoughtful and curious. Perhaps this was an opportunity... "If I can wear my gloves, and wash my hands somewhere after greetings, I might be able to do it." he mused, "It would be good practice to get over my...hang-ups. If I want to be a chirurgeon, I'll have to, of course." He lifted his chin. "But I bet I could do it." His gaze dropped to the list. "So we've Religions, History, and mathematics. I presume there's classics, as well?"

“I’m going to be a chirurgeon.” Onfroi stated matter-of-factly as he turned the next book to lay it out in front of Quincy. A collection of essays and treatises on the shifting political climate in Ishgard. Followed soon after by a second outdated book explaining the hierarchy of the Theocracy. “The curriculum is changing but studying up on the usual sort of things a private tutor would usually should ensure you pass and receive advanced placement.” Fingers twitched slightly as they settled atop the remaining stack. “I don’t think you could do it. Tea. I’m willing to bet on it.” He offered, the smile quirking somewhat, hitching up on one side to rest a little crooked.

@tuftananke

[stardusted-bookworm]

Amber Rings

Part 1 & Part 2

Essek took a deep breath, more nervous than he had ever been before. More nervous than when he had stolen the beacons from right under the Dynasty's nose. He felt as if he were staring into the jaws of death itself.

He shook himself. He was being ridiculous. And every second he was late would just make it worse for him.

Steeling his nerves, he knocked on the Brenattos' door. Immediately, the door swung open to reveal a ginger wizard. Oh thank the Light! Essek didn't know if he'd have been ready to see Veth first.

"Caleb." Essek hoped his nerves were being translated through that one word.

Caleb Widogast's eyes softened. He leaned in and kissed the corner of Essek's mouth. "Hullo, Schatz. She is waiting in the dining room."

When Caleb offered him an arm, Essek hung onto it almost like a lifeline. They walked into the Brenattos' home and made their way to the room of judgment.

Perhaps that was too dramatic of a name.

When they enter the dining room, Veth is sitting at the table, sharpening a crossbow bolt menacingly.

Never mind, Essek thought. 'Room of Judgment' was a fair assessment.

"Veth," Caleb chided.

"What? I'm not doing anything, Caleb." Veth placed the bolt in her crossbow and cocked it. "We're just here to talk, right?"

"Yup!" Essek's voice sounded abnormally high, especially to his sensitive ears. He cleared his throat and called upon a century of court etiquette. "May I sit, Mrs. Brenatto?"

She just inclined with her crossbow.

Essek gingerly sat in the seat across from her, conscious of every movement.

Caleb made to sit down as well, but Veth clicked her tongue. "Ah, ah, Lebby. Why don't you go help Yeza in the kitchen?" She narrowed her eyes at Essek. "Hotboi and I are going to have a little one on one chat."

Caleb looked nervously at Essek before he pushed his chair in and left the room.

Veth kept looking at Essek several minutes after the human left. Essek was starting to sweat in his seat, which was very difficult when one's body temperature was lower than the average humanoid.

Abruptly, Veth asked, "Are they looking at us?"

Essek glanced to where she indicated, and indeed, both Yeza and Caleb were glancing anxiously into the room. Upon noticing Essek's gaze, they both scatter and disappear further into the kitchen.

"Not anymore," Essek whispered, "though their attention may still be focused on this room."

"Good." Veth leveled the crossbow at Essek's face. She waved a hand when he flinched a little. "Don't worry, it isn't cocked anymore. I undid it as Caleb was leaving."

"A crossbow aimed at your face is still unsettling."

Veth chuckled. "Fair enough. Now." She grew deadly serious. "Did you bring it?"

Essek heaved a deep, nervous breath. Caleb believed Veth just wanted to give Essek the shovel talk but she'd given him one years ago, and... well, Essek and Caleb were much too far in their relationship to be given a shovel talk. But Caleb knew how protective Veth could be so he didn't think much of it when she asked him to bring Essek over to have a... chat. Essek knew the real reason behind it though.

It was custom in the Dynasty for one to ask the parents' permission before asking for their partner's hand in marriage. And since Veth was the closest thing to a mother figure for Caleb... Well, Essek thought it would be fitting to ask her.

She practically screeched her approval. Then, she got very serious and essentially said, "You better find a ring worthy of my boy, Essek Thelyss, or you can forget about my blessing."

So Essek searched long and hard for the perfect ring, and finally, he found it. He messaged her immediately and she demanded the meeting practically the next day.

Essek looked back once more at the kitchen, and when he was sure no one was looking, he pulled out a small, black velvet box.

Veth all but dropped her crossbow and snatched up the box. She gingerly cracked open the lid and gasped. He knew what she looked at for he'd had the same reaction when he'd first seen it.

It was a relatively simple silver ring with a beautiful, smooth stone of amber sitting in the center. Very intricate writing was scrawled into the band as well.

"If you would repeat after me, Mrs. Brenatto." Essek cleared his throat. "Slyannen lueth chath ak'uech lil' ulin."

She repeated it, and while the pronunciation was a little rough, it still worked.

The writing on the ring flared a bright white and a series of images projected upwards.

First, was a picture of Veth and her family, surrounding Caleb in a warm embrace. Next, a picture of the Empire siblings: Beau's arm was slung over Caleb's neck, knuckles rubbing into his head, but he was smiling. The third picture was of a little blue tiefling with small tusks propped up on Caleb's shoulders, her parents, Jester and Fjord, smiling fondly in the background.

Fourth, a picture of Caduceus and Caleb as they worked side by side in the Blooming Grove while tending to the graves of the dead. The fifth was a picture of Yasha placing a beautiful flower crown on Caleb's head. Both were smiling brightly. The next photo had Kingsley Tealeaf leaning flirtatiously over a counter as Caleb mildly blushed.

Essek laughed. That one was one of his favorites.

But the last and final picture was a moving picture of Caleb and Essek slowly swaying to a silent slow song, arms looped around each other, cheek to cheek. That was the first time Essek had asked Caleb to dance. It was a fond memory for the two.

"Oh... Essek..."

"To remind him of good things," Essek's voice cracked, growing thick with tears, "when things get rough and I can't be there."

Veth had tears in her eyes as well as she looked from the pictures to the drow. She opened her mouth to continue but before she could, another, smaller, voice piped up, "Oh cool! Is that for me?"

Tiny halfling hands reached up, snatched the box from his mother's hands and took off running. Essek, in a fit of panic, cast Hold Person on the child, temporarily forgetting that there may be arcane repercussions for it. Thankfully, nothing terrible seemed to happen to Luc, though he seemed a little irritated.

"Uncle Essek," the child whined, "let me gooo!"

Essek easily plucked the box from Luc's hands and vanished it into a pocket dimension before releasing him from the spell. "My apologies, Master Brenatto, but that present was not for you unfortunately. I have something much better for you. Would you like to see it?"

Luc's eyes widened. "Would I ever? Show me show me show me!"

Essek chuckled and summoned another item from his pocket dimension.

It was a necklace that seemed fairly bland in visual until he placed it over Luc's head. Then, the drab leather became the finest gold. The boring, simple pendant became encrusted with jewels. All a simple illusion, but Luc didn't need to know that.

"Wish for something," Essek requested.

Luc looked at him in disbelief but closed his eyes and said, "I wish toooo... see a giant dinosaur!"

"Okay, now open your eyes."

There was nothing in front of Luc physically, but the wizard knew that he saw a giant dinosaur towering above him. It was a very intricate piece of illusion magic that allowed the user to view anything it wished even though it wouldn't appear in the real world. Almost like a... virtual reality...

The illusions only lasted for roughly a minute each time, but it was more than enough to keep the youngest Brenatto entertained.

Luc's eyes focused back into reality and a giant smile spread on the child's face. "Whoa! That's so cool, Uncle Essek! Thank you!" Luc ran up and threw his arms around Essek's waist and kissed his stomach, because that was the highest Luc could reach.

Essek was so shocked by this act of affection that he just froze. This shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did because this was how Luc always showed affection, but it had never been turned on Essek. He didn't hate it, but it was definitely new and sudden. Luc, not paying Essek much mind, ran off to go play with his new toy.

The drow remained frozen until Veth came over to pat him on the back. "Thank you for taking care of my boy, hot boi."

Essek shook himself slightly. "Of course. It is always wonderful to see children excited about new things."

Veth nodded approvingly. "Yeah, except now we won't ever get him off that thing!"

"Not to worry. I added a failsafe specifically for this. The necklace stops working after five illusions and resets after a long rest."

Just as he said that, they heard an "Aw man!" in the distance of the house.

Both wizard and rogue laughed out loud at that.

Veth placed a hand on the small of Essek's back. "While I am also grateful for you entertaining my kid, I was talking about Caleb."

"... Oh." Essek could feel the tips of his ears grow warm.

She moved so she was now in front of him. "The Mighty Nein may have brought him out of his shell and helped him heal himself, but you're the one who finally convinced him to let go." Her eyes were unflinching in their sincerity. "I believe you were the one who finally allowed him to loosen his hold on the past and look forward to his future.

"I've seen the shift in him in these years you've been around. He's more playful, more joyous. Less grim and morbid. So thank you, Essek Thelyss, for taking care of my boy."

Essek's vision blurred as he tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. "Thank you, Veth Brenatto, for entrusting him with me. He has been a gift for me as well."

Veth hugged him tightly, the way only a mother can. "So when are you going to propose to him?" she asked.

"I am not entirely sure, but I promise you will be the first to know when it happens. Would that be amenable to you?"

"After all these years of you being lovesick fools? Hell yeah that's 'amenable' to me!"

Essek laughed and squeezed once more before letting go. "I am glad. I wouldn't want to do it without you there, but who knows when inspiration will strike."

Veth just rubbed her hands together evilly. "Wait 'til Jessie hears about this. She's going to be so pissed that I knew first."

He shook his head. Always making mischief these two.

He summoned the box into his hand once more and thumbed the opening. Of course, he was nervous about the future, but Caleb deserved to be surrounded by the love of his family for this special moment. And... Essek would be surrounded by his family as well, for they had adopted him as their own. He smiled down at the box.

Soon, Caleb Widogast, soon.

Translations:

Slyannen lueth chath ak'uech lil' ulin: Stars and fire forge the future

Part 2

[shenonagons]

Day Eleven: Chronic Pain (C2)

Read here on AO3

Summary: (Post-campaign) Caleb has been pushing himself too hard with his new responsibilities. Luckily, Veth is still there to take care of her boy when he forgets to do it himself.

Caleb woke up slowly, but didn't open his eyes right away. He immediately knew the time and where he was (he'd told Veth she didn't need to make sure he had his own room at her family's new home, but she'd insisted), but he took a long moment in that lull between sleeping and waking to just count the seconds ticking by.

He'd been intending to take a semester off from teaching at the academy in Rexxentrum to help with her adventurer's school, though he'd been delayed by some last-minute requests to help tutor some of his students. Even now, after a full night's sleep, his hands felt weak and shaky from walking them through cantrips over and over—magic that shouldn't have been exhausting, but the long hours had taken a toll on him. Teleporting to the Brenatto house afterward was equaling taxing, even if it did save him a long, grueling trip over the roads.

“Lebby? You awake yet?” Veth tapped on the door and peeked into the room. “Yeza was asking if he should start breakfast or wait a little while.”

“Ja, I'm up.” Caleb tried to push himself up when a flash of pain from his wrists to his elbows had him collapsing back down on the bed with a groan.

“What is it? What's wrong?” Veth was across the room in a heartbeat, already reaching for one of his hands. “Are you all right?”

“Just my hands,” he whispered. “They hurt sometimes, in the morning.”

Veth was staring down at him in the dim morning light. She pressed the back of one hand to his forehead, and he leaned into the familiar touch. “You don't look so good.”

“I might have overdone it. I'll be fine in a minute.” He tried to smile at her, but she didn't seem deterred.

“They're working you too hard. Look at your poor hands...they won't stop shaking.”

“Ah,” he tried to pull away from her, but to his chagrin her grip was too strong. “That's normal, Veth. Don't worry.”

“Normal?” Veth's voice shot up an octave. “How is this normal? When did this become normal? Why?”

He finally pulled away from her and managed to sit up, wrapping his arms around his stomach to hide their shaking. “I'm just a little tired.”

Veth had her hands on her hips, a scowl low on her brow. “What's going on, Caleb? Please,” she added when he started to protest. “You didn't use to keep secrets from me. I mean except your real name, of course, and going to the academy, and everything else...but other than that, no secrets.”

Sighing, Caleb brought both hands out in front of him. They were trembling slightly, the knuckles swollen and stiff so that it was hard to bend his fingers. “My hands just take a little longer to wake up, that's all.” He didn't want to tell her about the pain...pain that would spike up his arms almost to the shoulder if he moved his hands too quickly in the morning. Or how sometimes they were locked up so badly he wouldn't even be able to dress himself for hours.

“Oh, Lebby.” Veth's gentle voice, along with that peculiar nickname for him, suddenly made him feel very tired. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with his friend, just like old times, and sleep until he wasn't hurting anymore.

“But we have students soon,” he said. “Does your class start today?”

Veth stared up at him, then straightened up and set her shoulders. “Right. Give me five minutes, I'll be right back.”

He watched her go, a little bewildered, and slowly started making himself ready for the day. His hands weren't toobad this time...Veth's home was a lot warmer than his quarters at the academy, and that seemed to help. It still hurt to do anything with them, and he had no idea how he was supposed to eat breakfast with Veth and her family now when he wouldn't even be able to lift a tankard. Maybe he could just pretend to need another hour of sleep, and join them after his hands had loosened up.

Two sets of footsteps on the stairs had him looking up again, and Veth slipped back into the room with Yeza on her heels. “It's all settled,” she announced. “Classes are delayed for a week, so you have plenty of time to rest.”

“Veth, that's too much. I'm all right, really.”

“I won't hear it!” Veth held up one hand. “You look awful, Cay. You're all pale and skinny, almost like when we first met, and your hands hurt so much you can hardly move them. You need rest and lots of food.”

“And me!” Yeza piped up. He gingerly picked up one of Caleb's wrist and twisted it a little, then gently pried at the fingers. Caleb tried not to flinch when even those slight movements hurt, but Yeza nodded anyway. “Thought so. I think I have something that can help.”

“The healer at the academy said there was no cure for this,” Caleb protested, but Yeza was already digging a few small vials out of his pockets.

“Oh, a cure? No, you'd need some kind of high-level restoration for this, and even then it might not work. And it would probably come back. No, see, we just need something to help the symptoms, right? Veth, could you give me a hand?”

Yeza shook a few drops of oil from one vial into Veth's hands, then they each took one of Caleb's hands and gently began to massage the oil into his skin. “You might need some help with this at first, but it should promote blood flow and help your muscles and tendons relax,” Yeza explained. He and Veth had started at Caleb's wrists and moved down through his palms before tending to each of his fingers.

“Your hands are so cold,” Veth whispered. The oil was warm against his skin, with a pleasant smell like cinnamon and peppermint.

“Ah, yeah, this should help with that,” Yeza replied. “We had a neighbor back in Felderwin who had problems with her hands like this; she'd been a weaver most of her life and her hands started cramping up as she got older. I might be able to remember more of what me and the doctor came up with to help her if you give me some time.”

“It's already better. Thank you, Yeza.” Caleb flexed his fingers, relieved when the pain only seemed to stab partway up his forearm.

Veth was still looking at him with big, sad eyes. “How long has this been going on?”

Caleb sighed. There was no avoiding it now. “Almost a year.”

“And you never told me?”

“You didn't need to worry about me,” he protested. “You have your life, Veth. Your family. Your child. I can take care of myself.”

“Obviously not!”

“Veth...”

“No, it's settled. You're taking a week off to sit in front of the fire and rest your poor hands while Luc reads you stories, and that's final.”

He stared back at her, the guilt already threatening to surface. He was already such an imposition here, and she wanted him to be an idle guest for a week? If they were going through the trouble of opening their home for him, he needed to be doing something to earn his place.

Yeza leaned in closer to him. “I'd do what she says,” he announced in a loud whisper. “She's kind of stubborn.”

Veth snorted and rolled her eyes, but her affection for her husband was plain on her face. “Please?” she added, looking back up to Caleb. “Let us take care of you?”

Caleb never could say no to her. His shoulders slumped and he nodded. “Ja, okay. Thank you, Veth.”

[songofwizardry]

sea-salt and sand

a beach in Nicodranas, an hour spent attuning to the new amulets, and a moment between Caleb (who has been having a fairly continuous breakdown for the last few hours) and Veth (who stays within hugging distance).

[coda to campaign 2 episode 128]

yes, I am writing Caleb & Veth fic again. cw for canon-typical trauma & extended descriptions of dissociation. you can find the fic on ao3 or under the cut.

The air smells like salt, and seaweed.

It smells like salt, and the setting sun to their left is dyeing the cloudless sky pink and red, and the colours are reflected in the water, and Caleb tries, tries, to stare at it – the water, the warmth, the colour, the sand – and to take it all in, to remember that there are no beaches like this in the Empire, that it is not this warm in Rexxentrum, that he is not sixteen years old anymore, he is here—

He tries, by all the gods his colourful friends believe in, he would swear he tries to stay here and now, but—

Between one crash of a wave and the next, he is gone, echoes of Trent’s voice (real? Magical? Memory? Who knows anymore?) ringing in his mind, the sand between his toes slipping away, and he is floating, up, away, into nothingness and memory—

A splash.

It takes a lot of effort to focus on it, the sound, the sensation of water.

Slow, difficult, like dragging his body through molasses, Caleb forces his way down, into his body. His eyes are still open, staring into the water. There is dampness on his face. Like coaxing a stubborn horse, he nudges his mind to follow the trail of cause and effect, to track where the water’s come from—ah, the splash. He blinks, slowly, focuses his eyes, and takes in the strange beast – elemental, his memory supplies – swimming in the shallows. He thinks the creature looks up at him, with knowing blue-green eyes, and splashes one of its wings again.

This time, he feels the water land on his face.

That’s an improvement, he thinks, distantly.

He raises one hand to wipe away the water. He thinks his hands might be shaking. He runs his hand across one cheek, then the other, and his fingers come away damp and stained with blood and dirt and gods know what else.

He lowers his hand, slow and careful. The elemental flips over in the water, sending up a spray of droplets. Caleb feels his cheeks grow damp again, and this time, he is present enough to notice it, to know where it’s coming from—he’s crying.

Ah. That makes sense, doesn’t it.

He can feel the tears gathering, now, dripping down his nose, coming faster.

He should wipe them away.

He should stop crying.

He should never – can never – stop crying, not ever again.

It tastes like salt.

“Caleb?” A pause, and then, quieter, “Caleb? You there?”

Veth. Of course. Now Caleb can feel the pressure, tentative but there, of a hand on his arm. He opens his eyes. (He doesn’t remember closing them.)

Ah. There are still tears dripping off his nose, into his beard. A mess. He’s probably worrying her, he realises. He should stop, should look at her, should apologise for all this, should—

He opens his mouth, but the only thing he manages is, “Ja?”

“There you are,” Veth says, and there’s this… gods, this fondness in her voice, that he simultaneously wants to cringe away from and bask in. The world does not deserve Veth the Brave. He most certainly does not.

Veth is still talking, he realises, and he has to make himself listen, catches, “–and we’re all fine, okay? You’re fine, you’re good, you’re safe now.”

He is not, not good, or safe, but he can’t bring himself to argue, and Veth is still saying things, and Caleb realises that at some point her arm has wound its way around her back, and she is pulling him into her, closer.

Caleb closes his eyes, and lets her, until their sides are pressed together.

They stay like that for a few moments, and Caleb lets the dual sensations of Veth’s voice and Veth’s side pressed against him keep him here, as much as he can. After a while, his head begins to feel heavy, and slowly, he lowers it, until his forehead is resting on his knees.

He’s still fucking crying, he realises. He considers trying to stop, and quickly abandons that idea. He hopes Veth isn’t worrying too much.

Veth’s voice helps. It Is harder to think every echo in his ears, every rush of breath in his chest, is Trent’s voice, when he can feel Veth, warm against him, hear her talking. It is easier to stay.

Still, it takes many moments of effort before he thinks he can move (he catalogues, as he waits, the feel of damp cloth against his face, the sound of the waves, the bursts of his other friends’ voices) and finally, he turns his head, sideways, to look at Veth.

She stops, mid-sentence, catching the movement. “There you are,” she says, and there’s this brittle cheeriness in her voice. She has always been a terrible liar, Caleb thinks, with a sudden burst of warmth.

“I am sorry,” he says, and tries not to hear how wrecked his own voice sounds. “I—thank you. Veth. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, hush,” she says, and she reaches up, one hand coming to rest on his own cheek. “This is, I don’t know, the fourth time you’ve said sorry since we got out of there, it’s fine, you’re—” She pauses, and then shakes her head, gives his cheek a firm pat. “You’re fine, Lebby. No need for that, okay?”

Once again, Caleb considers how untrue that is, and once again, decides he’s not going to argue with Veth. “Ja, okay,” he says, and it feels like the few words have drained all the energy out of him, and he closes his eyes again.

Veth’s hand moves away from his cheek, and she presses close to him once more, and Caleb takes in one breath, two, loses count, starts again.

I think I have forgotten how to count, he thinks, again.

“Caleb?”

“Hmm?” he manages.

“Is the—shall I keep doing this? Hugging you?”

He opens his eyes at that, looks – actually looks – at Veth’s face, for the first time since he sat down here. She’s watching him, the lines of her tattoos glowing in the light, there is this furrow of worry between her brows, and this softness in her eyes. Fondness, he thinks, again. Gods. He’s fairly certain Veth’s proximity is the only thing tying him to this plane of existence right now, but he can’t quite say that, so instead, he says, “Yes. Please.”

Her face softens further, and he shuts his eyes again, because he doesn’t quite know what to do with all that emotion.

“Okay, Caleb,” she says, and her arm presses tighter around him, pulls him impossibly closer. “That’s fine. I’m here. You’re fine. I’m right here.”

That last part, at least, Caleb doesn’t think he can argue with. And the rest—well. He’ll argue that later. Time for that later.

For now, he presses into Veth’s side, and breathes in the sea-salty air, and realises he can finally feel the sand between his toes.

[elizabethemerald]

Widogast’s Magnificent Mansion

Please Reblog and tell me what you think of this version of the Mansion!

Caleb stepped into the former meat locker and watched as his friend’s jaws dropped one by one as they followed him. When each had stepped into the foyer he closed the entrance with a wave, then turned to look at the room, a smile teasing his lips. 

The entrance foyer to the magical mansion had stained glass windows on every side. There were three large windows on the left and three on the right and one massive one straight in front of them. Each of the windows depicted one of the Nein in beautiful, ornate stained glass, finer than any glass cutter could make. 

On one wall, Yasha stood with both hands on the hilt of the Magician’s Judge, it’s point dug into the earth at her feet. Lightning crackled and arched around her white feathered wings. Next was Veth in her yellow dress, who wore a necklace of buttons, with her cross bow in one hand, while her other held a porcelain mask, just peaking out from behind her dress. Last on that wall, Beauregard stood in an easy fighting stance, resplendent in her Cobalt Blues, and with lightning blasting off her fists, a cocky smile on her lips. 

Across from Yasha, Caduceus stared serenely down at them his blight staff in his hands, surrounded by growing greenery and tangled vines, with a skull at his feet, flowers growing from its eyes. Behind and above him shone the radiant light of the Wildmother. Next to him, Fjord held the Star Razer in one hand, with green eldritch energy in the other. He stood on the deck of a ship, waves crashing over the rails, with divine light shining off the Wildmother’s symbol in the air above him. Finally there was Jester, her skirts bellowing out around her as if she had just finished spinning, in one hand she held her lollipop weapon, with it sitting over her shoulder, while in the other she offered a blueberry muffin. Standing behind her was a green cloaked figure, just a hint of a smirk visible underneath his hood. 

Finally on the wall opposite the entrance, standing above a pair of double doors was the entirety of the Mighty Nein. At first it was the grubby assholes who had met in Trostenwald. Caleb stood in the center of their group in his dirty coat, Nott, still a goblin near him, with the rest of the group around him. As they stepped forward the image changed to the group of capable adventures who now stood in the foyer. Veth, now a halfling, Caleb clean and well dressed, Yasha with her white wings, Fjord shining under the light of the Wildmother, Beau wearing her expositor uniform. And over their heads, a purple coat, that seemed to flap in an invisible breeze. 

“Lebby...This is-” Veth’s words died in her throat as she stared. 

Caleb turned to take in his friend’s awestruck looks. The smile that had been teasing at his lips now broke into a full on grin. 

“This! Is only the beginning.” He declared, than lead the way to and through the double doors. 

As the doors opened, without him touching them a warm chime could be hard echoing through the mansion. From the foyer the first room was a massive open living room filled with comfortable couches. There was a grand stair case that lead to a second floor and several rooms opened off the main room. Caleb spun slowly in place pointing out the rooms around them. 

“There’s a work out room there.” Beau nudged Fjord and smiled. “Next to it is a workshop, with all the tools you could dream of Veth. And there’s a studio, for art or music.” Jester was already excited, bouncing on the balls of her feet, but at that she cheered and threw her arms around Yasha. “The garden is behind the stairwell and there’s a dining room over there. The larder is through the kitchen, don’t worry Mr. Clay, it’s well stocked, we will not want for food.” Caduceus leaned on his staff, his whole face split into a wide grin. “And of course a library and study.”

The Nein were practically vibrating at this point. Beau had thrown herself  down on one of the couches, her legs over the arm, while Jester had started to jump from cushion to cushion around the room. Yasha had wandered over to the studio with a look of contentment on her face. Veth ran to the workshop to peak inside. Fjord patted Caleb on the shoulder. 

“Well done, Caleb.” He said warmly. 

Caleb took just another moment to appreciate his friends and how much they enjoyed the mansion, before he clapped his hands together. 

“Would you like to see your rooms?” 

He asked the question innocently enough but the way those who had moved away snapped back to his position filled his heart with joy. When they were again gathered he climbed the stairs, his friends at his heels. At the top of the stairs were seven rooms, each with a plain wooden door, and an engraved symbol at the top of the door frame. Caleb’s smile somehow widened as he saw each of them take hesitant steps toward the doors that had something special to them in the engraving. 

Caleb followed Beau to the room that bore an engraving of the three eyes of Ioun. She opened the door and stepped inside. The room within was reminiscent to her room with the Cobalt Soul. Few decorations or furnishings were in the room. A bed, dresser and desk taking up the bulk of the space. The desk was well lit with several magical lanterns, and had several piles of paper, as well as quills and inks. All across one wall was a board with tacks, coils of string and paper. The window showed an evening in Zadash from the Archive of the Cobalt Soul there. 

“The uh, conspiracy board was a comparatively recent addition.” Caleb smiled. 

Beau nodded absent mindedly. She picked up the one piece of decoration, a framed portrait that sat on her desk. Caleb knew it without looking. Beau in the center of a group hug with the Nein. Jester and Veth both physically clinging to her, all of them smiling and laughing. He knew that she would deny it if he brought it up, but he caught a glimpse of a tear sliding down her cheek as he stepped away. 

A voice coming from the next room drew his attention. He stepped to the door with the symbol of the Wildmother surrounded by vines to see Caduceus greeting his plants. His room was similar in color and lighting to what Caleb remembered of the Blooming Grove. Outside the window was a bright, verdant forest filled with all manner of beautiful trees and plants. The room itself was fairly austere, though not as severe as Beauregard’s room. However other than furniture the room was filled with plants. There were vines hanging from the ceiling and creeping up the walls. Plus multiple small planters filled with fungus. 

Caleb left Caduceus to introduce himself to his new plants to look at the next room. The door bore the mark of a crossbow bolt covered in electricity. Veth’s room matched her attire, ostentatious colors decorating the walls, and her furniture was an eclectic mix, more chosen for comfort over style. Every possible surface, from the walls to the desk and dresser were covered in pictures of Veth and her family. There were pictures of all three Brennattos, pictures with just Veth and Yeza, and dozens of pictures of Luc laughing and having fun. Including Caleb’s personal favorite, Luc sitting on Yasha’s shoulders from just this morning. 

When Veth saw him standing at her door she ran to him. Caleb knelt to meet her running hug. She pressed her face against his coat to hide the tears running down her face. 

“Thank you Caleb.” She whispered into his shoulder. 

“Of course, Liebling.” He replied, his voice tight. “And if Luc and Yeza visit I can rearrange things to give the three of you your own apartment, so they are always welcome here.”

Veth pressed herself tighter against him, pulling on his jacket for a minute before she let go. She took a deep shuddering breath then turned back into the room. Caleb stood to leave her to it, his smile growing wider as he heard her exclaim upon finding her closet. 

Next down the line was Yasha, the Stormlord’s symbol carved above her door. Caleb stuck his head in, but didn’t disturb her. The giant woman was standing, her fingers resting gently on the wall of her room. Caleb had copied the walls from her room in the Xhorhouse, so the wall was painted with Jester’s mural of wild flowers. Yasha turned from staring at the mural to kneel in front of the potted flower at her feet. She gently rain her fingers over the flower’s leaves, before glancing at the rain that battered the windows of her room. 

Caleb stepped away, leaving her to it and found himself outside Fjord’s room. The symbol above it was almost a perfect copy of the Wildmother’s holy symbol that Cad had made for him. The room had wood paneling and decorations that made it look like it was the captain’s cabin aboard a ship. The walls were decorated with naval charts and on the wide map table were copies of every map the Nein had collected. Fjord had summoned the Star Razer and placed it on a sword rack that hung over the desk while he looked at one of the maps more closely. Outside the wide bay windows a choppy sea could be seen, with the light of dawn filtering in between the clouds. 

He looked up as Caleb looked in and gave a warm smile, the tips of his tusks just poking out above his lips. He nodded to Caleb, appreciation in his eyes before he turned his attention back to chart in his hands. 

Caleb stepped back and looked at the last two rooms. Both doors were still closed. He turned his head as he heard Jester cheer from Veth’s room. He smiled and turned to watch her dash between rooms, her excited chatter filling the hall with noise, as she inspected each person’s room in turn, sharing in their delight at their new accommodations. 

Finally Jester finished talking excitedly with Beau about her room and ran down the hall to meet Caleb outside their two rooms. She immediately pulled him into a bone crushing hug in her excitement. Caleb wheezed as she released him, but his smile didn’t leave his face. How could it, when Jester’s own radiant smile was before him?

“You haven’t seen your own room yet?” He asked. 

Jester’s demeanor changed a little at his words. She lost none of her joy, but there was a hint of purple in her cheeks and her tail curled and uncurled around her ankle. 

“Well, I wanted to wait so you could show it to me.” She said.

Caleb’s smile grew crooked at the look of expectation on her face. Who was he to make her wait any longer? He gestured to the room with a Traveler's Gate above it, and the door opened for them. Jester immediately entered, practically dancing in joy as she did so. Caleb followed right behind her. 

Jester squealed in joy as she spun in place in the center of the room trying to take it all in. Caleb had copied elements of her room in the Lavish Chateau, with a few new personal touches. The walls were covered in paintings. The ones near the bottom, childish and simple, while those higher up grew in skill. Many of the paintings were exact copies of the ones from her room, but hidden among them were members of the Mighty Nein, and art of their greatest adventures. Of course among them were some friends of the Nein who didn’t travel with them. Calianna, Kiri, and Shakaste. 

Across the vanity and the desk top were sculptures of all kinds. Again, some of the ones she had made as a child, some of the Nein and some of their friends. There were piles of paints and brushes on the desk, along with a plate of bear claws and other pastries. Jester grabbed one, then jumped onto her bed, landing on her back. She had stars in her eyes as she stared up at the canopy, and the painting Caleb had put there. 

“This is the most amazing thing Cayleb.” She said. Tears beaded at the corners of her eyes. She took a bite of her bear claw and her face brightened immediately. She groaned as her tail curled on itself. “Mmmm. These have cinnamon on them!”

“Ja, of course.” Caleb’s face hurt from how much he was smiling. He glanced out her window at the Nicodranas skyline, soft moonlight falling through the curtains. 

Almost before he realized, Jester was back on her feet and pulling him into another hug. This one was less tight, but no less warm. 

“Thank you so much Cayleb.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. For probably the first time, Caleb let himself hug her back. After a long hug, he pulled away. 

“Also,” Caleb took on her lilting accent as he said. “There are, like, sooo many dicks hidden on the walls.”

Jester cheered then spun away to begin examining the walls closely trying to find the hidden dicks. Caleb watched her for a moment, then quietly stepped back, leaving her to her search. He left her door open before turning to his own. An open book with a pair of cat eyes hovering over it marked the top of the door frame. He opened the door and walked in. 

His room was simple. Almost as spartan as Beau’s. There was a small bookshelf filled with books. A simple desk with one of his dancing lights floating above it. He knew the drawers were well stocked with paper and ink. The bed was plain but comfortable. One he hadn’t slept in since before he left for the Soltryce Academy. Frumpkin already sat on the bed, gently licking his paw. And on his desk, was a plate with a single Blueberry Cupcake.

[biofunmy]

Sharing a Room in Bedford-Stuyvesant and Making New Friends

Though Craigslist and Facebook have been the go-to places to find a room share for years, Kira Hooks, a 26-year-old musician who moved to the city from Nashville this August, quickly ruled out them out.

“Broker fees are crazy here and all the qualifications you have to go through are really hard,” said Ms. Hooks, who was also conducting her housing search remotely from Tennessee and had to rely on FaceTime to meet people and tour spaces.

Instead, she opted for a co-living apartment in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, run by Outpost Club, a company that has 17 locations in New York and — crucially — shared bedrooms that brought the cost of co-living into an affordable range for her. Ms. Hooks pays $1,090 a month for her room, on top of a one-time membership fee of $690.

Co-living, wherein vetted tenants rent space in all-inclusive furnished apartments in co-living “houses” or apartment buildings, has become increasingly popular in recent years, due in part to the difficulty many newcomers have in navigating the city’s complicated rental market. But as the rent for a room with everything from internet to basic cooking supplies and weekly housekeeping bundled in can be steep, some co-living purveyors have started offering shared dorm-style rooms with twin beds. Outpost Club even offers triples in some of its locations.

$1,090 | Bedford-Stuyvesant

Kira Hooks, 26

Occupation: Musician. She also teaches at the School of Rock in the Whitestone section of Queens and does social media work for Food For All, an app that aims to reduce food waste. What her rent includes: Wi-Fi, furniture, olive oil, coffee, cups, hair dryers and paper towels, among other basics; Ms. Hooks also paid a one-time membership fee of $690. How big the “house” is: 17 bedrooms spread across six apartments. The guest policy: Residents can have guests between 10 a.m. and 10 p.m. and out-of-town guests can stay free of charge for up to a week each month in open beds in other apartments. Overnight guests require at least a week’s notice. There is no couch crashing. Her decorative touches: A string of Christmas lights and some New York-themed throw pillows. She hopes to keep things minimal in her next apartment, too. “I think in New York, the more stuff that requires maintenance, the less convenient it is. I want to make sure it’s just enough to make it feel like home.”

“I had been looking at communal living options,” said Ms. Hooks, who is a singer and songwriter and also teaches at School of Rock in the Whitestone section of Queens and does social media work for Food For All, an app that aims to reduce food waste. “I thought it would be nice to have a sense of community.”

“I also wanted something pretty decent, clean. I love the fact that a cleaner comes once a week here,” she added. “And transitional. My partner is moving to New York from Nashville in January, at which point we’ll start looking for a place with other friends.” (Ms. Hooks’s boyfriend and her other friends are also musicians.)

As for sharing a bedroom with a stranger? “It was nerve wracking for sure,” she admitted. “I was worried: I am a musician. What if I come home late? Is everyone going to be O.K. with that? But I’m pretty good with people in general — it takes a lot for me to get riled up — and every roommate I’ve had has been wonderful.”

Since moving into a three-bedroom apartment this August, Ms. Hooks has had three bedroom-mates. One of the appeals of co-living is flexible lease terms that can be as short as 30 days. The downside, at least for those who like their roommates, is high turnover. Her most recent roommate, a Brazilian event planner here for three months to practice her English and take a bartending class, arrived this November.

In addition to Ms. Hooks’ shared bedroom, the apartment also has two single rooms — which rent for about $1,700 each, depending on length of stay and level of membership — and each bedroom has an en-suite bath. One of the occupants, Kari Lebby, a 29-year-old South Carolinian who moved to New York to attend a program for directing at the New School this summer, is, like Ms. Hooks, a longer-term fixture, having lived there since August, but is planning to start looking for a studio or one-bedroom at the end of the fall semester.

Anthony Nickele, a 26-year-old traveling nurse, occupies the other room. He’s lived in the apartment since November, when a pipe burst in his bedroom upstairs, forcing him to switch rooms.

“I didn’t mind moving down because everyone in the apartment was kind of familiar,” said Mr. Nickele, who came to New York in September and is leaving this January to take a different assignment in California. “It’s a little transient, but I needed someplace flexible and it’s a good space. You know it’s clean. Probably the best thing is that making friends is so effortless.”

Gracila Coutinho, the Brazilian housemate, said that initially, she’d looked for a sublet on Craigslist and Facebook, but had trouble finding situations where chatting with roommates would be welcome. “Everyone was like, ‘I work a lot and when I come home I don’t want to talk to anyone. We don’t drink wine together, we don’t do Thanksgiving together.’ ”

Ms. Hooks was born in Houston, but her father’s work — he was in oil — took the family to the Netherlands, Scotland, China and a number of other countries.

She attended college in Los Angeles before moving to Nashville. New York, she said, felt very much like home, filled with people from all over the world forging connections.

“I always wanted to come to New York,” said Ms. Hooks, who describes her music as a mix of soul and jazz. “For a musician, it was the last in the trifecta.”

In January, Ms. Hooks said she hopes to find a cheaper apartment nearby that can double as a practice space for four musicians. “I’m in a phase of my life where I like the feeling of making a home and I want to be in New York for a longer time,” she said.

But though six months may be a relatively brief stay, Ms. Hooks, like her housemates, said she appreciated the comfortable, companionable atmosphere that co-living provided. Adjusting to life in New York can be challenge, and it’s nice to be surrounded by a bunch of other people who are also figuring out the M.T.A, discovering the delights of late-night bodega food and learning where to buy basics like tissues without spending a fortune. “There’s this camaraderie of ‘This is such a crazy town,’ ” said Ms. Hooks.

“In the beginning New York felt really lonely,” she added. “But it helps that we’re all going through this first little bit of transitioning into New York from slower-paced lives.”

Sahred From Source link Real Estate

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[blackrose-ffxiv]

Collections Call 10/12

Normally Lebeaux Desrosiers would at least be polite enough to knock before trying the door to someone’s private residence. Yet this wasn’t a normal situation. This was a collections call. He checked the handle quietly, and finding it unlocked he turned it and swung the door open wide. THEN he knocked. “Good afternoon Marvik.” He called out cheerfully as he invited himself into the apartment.

Marvik Hawkewind had more or less retreated himself a bit more from the world with certain expectations or just not being home at all. Just of course the time he was, a special someone had to catch him. The hyur not looking particulary pleased that another headache was coming in. Really all that was needed was the sound of thunder in the background to truly underline this situation. Marvik walked to Lebeaux, but not close enough for the others freakishly long arms. ( What do you want. )

Lebeaux flashed that ever saintly smile at Marvik, despite the other hesitating a ways away to stare at him with a less than pleasant sulk. After a moment he wrote out a single demand. “How rude. I know you’re not able to speak like a proper spoken yet the least you could do his mind your manners like one.” He mused as he stepped closer, inviting himself into the apartment. “I’ve come to collect. You’re late on your payments for my reconstruction projects.”

Marvik was not happy at all over Lebeauxs presence, he had thought the elezen to be smart enough to far far away from the hearer. Atleast Marvik was not keen to let Lebeaux in any further. ( I think I'm well within my rights to not be pleasant with you. ) Sure emotions were hard to convey via text, but the venom was still thick enough in it. ( Fine, I was about to hand the damn bag of your money to the Moogle that was eager to get to Kugane. Then leave, I have no interest in suffering your presence overlong. ) Especially not when his head was killing him and he figured the elezen would just make it worse somehow.

Lebeaux smiled sweetly as he took another step forwards to draw closer to the sullen hyur. “I should really be charging you damages to my book as well. You destroyed it with your little tempter tantrum. It held significant personal meaning.” He mused as he slunk closer still. “It was the last remaining memento I had of my former mentor.”

Marvik tried to make a stance, before eventually taking steps backwards. While still looking torn between wincing and snarling. ( Your former mentor would have killed all four of us. I did what was necessary, its better that way. )

Lebeaux tutted quietly under his breath as he stalked further into the room. “You panicked.” He corrected sharply as he reached out to smudge away the last part of what Marvik wrote. Swiping away ‘its better that way’ with a gloved hand. “You didn’t know how to respond to the situation so you attacked like a feral, stupid beast.” He explained calmly.

Marvik  took a step back for each step Lebeaux came closer, the hyur was clearly still on an subconscious level scared of the Ishgardian. Clutching to the board however in fear Lebeaux would break it again, then again it was nonsensical for now. Assumedly unless Lebeaux wanted Marvik to not be able to respond. ( I didn't panic! I did what I had to do, what felt right to do. ) Or at least what the tunnel vision and the thrumming emotions told him to do.

Lebeaux shook his head slowly as he continued to approach. “You panicked.” He stated corrected. “You were mad with fear. Not only did you destroy the book but you nearly destroyed Rinha’li and Geofferaut as well.” He reminded the other.

Marvik's back hit his bookshelf, having not paid attention just where to he had retreated and now couldn't step back further. ( No. No I didn't I-) he had almost written that he was in the right. He had felt in the right in that moment to get rid of all three of them and then the book. Marvik was positively cornered and the air in the room began to shift with his heightened emotional state.

Lebeaux reached out to push Marvik back against the bookshelf he had just cornered himself against. A hand settling on the boy’s shoulder to keep him pinned in place while he was busy struggling with recalling the events in the White City. “You cannot be trusted. A half-feral heathen who endangers the entire mission because he can’t control his own fear and resorts to baring his teeth and snapping at whatever he can. You should be caged. I’ll not make the same mistake twice.”

Marvik's aether passively flared in defense as Lebeaux cornered him, the wind shifting to knock into the elezens side to get him off. Marvik himself meanwhile paled considerably not only because he attacked Lebeaux but because it felt like he had just made himself aethersick, clutching the rim of the shelf and holding a hand before his mouth. This has been ever since Amdapor and Lebeaux of course in his antagonizing just had to make it worse.

The wind kicked up without warning, yet Lebeaux had been expecting a counter attack. He knew that panicking the boy would earn him a smack of conjury and his own fingers flicked, conjuring up a flash of light that reduced the burst of wind just enough that he wouldn’t be knocked off of his feet bit only aside a step or so. He responded quickly by raising his hand and bringing it down to strike Marv sharply on the cheek while the boy was holding his mouth. ��Behave yourself or I shall do so now.”

Marvik flinched as Lebeauxs hand found true, he was pretty sure that the strength behind the slap had caused nothing short but an echo. Though Marvik remained passive over it, his head hurt way to fierce and he was busy not hurling all over Lebeauxs clothes. The hyur looking at his working table, right. Painkillers. ( Take your money. Go away. I can't deal with you right now. ) Literally couldn't whatever push Lebeauxs had given it had sent the hearer physically reeling.

Lebeaux lowered his hand after the strike. It had been intended to bring Marvik’s attention back to him but still the boy was too busy gripping his head and mouth, looking ready to be sick at any moment. Lebeaux grabbed Marv’s shoulders and turned him away, pushing him towards the desk. “Are you so adverse to the truth or have you simply caught the foul rot that eats away at Gridanians’ lungs.”

Marvik didn't need the push to the desk, but maybe it wasn't so bad. Lebeaux was less likely to have the hyur be sick on him. There were several empty bottles already strewn over the hearers workspace, evidence that this had been going on for a longer time. ( Does it matter? If I croak I'll just be less of a hassle for you. ) meanwhile passivly shoving the coin back towards the desks edge. Clearly expecting Lebby to just take it and leave.

Lebeaux shook his head and tutted under his breath as Marvik moved to write a bit of sass back. “That won’t be permitted until you’re finished paying me back.” He explained calmly. “You still owe a considerable sum.” He picked up the bag of gil and weighed it in his hand, then tucked it away into his overcoat. He picked up one of the empty bottles and brought it close to his face to sniff at the rim, checking its contents.

Marvik went to ignore Lebeaux at that, taking one of the painkillers and uncorking it and simply downing it. As for the empty bottle Lebeaux took hold of and sniffed for checking on it, its smell was definitely artificial a pure alchemical concoction. Depending on Lebeaux’s study of it, he might be able to tell that there were certain compounds in it that were also used to dampen aether. Whatever this specific potion was, it was to sedate pain and also to lessen aetherical strains. Considering that Marvik was definitly breaking out into sweats it was obvious to a medical practitioner like the Ishgardian that alot of pain was currently had by the hearer and maybe even a case of Aethersickness.

Lebeaux set the bottle down after he sniffed it. A pain relieving potion compounded with a diluted silencing tonic. “The best thing for it is a good bleeding.” He explained calmly, watching the Hearer with some amused interest but not a drop of sympathy. “Shed some of the excess aether so the body is no longer filled to the point of toxicity.”

Marvik eyed Lebeaux both warily and wearily. He had his money why wasn't he leaving? Marvik managed to do his version of a laughing, though it was more of a rasp. ( Believe me, I tried everything. Only to come back fiercer the next day. )

“A good bleeding.” Lebeaux emphasized, reaching over to give the hyur a little push to see just how steady on his feet he was after drinking down all of that painkiller. "But of course, you are the medical expert what would I know of such things after years of study and practice."

( I didn't say that you weren't a go-) Marvik was in the middle of begrudgingly admit that Lebeaux was after all a practicing and experienced Medic. Unfortunately, the elezen had ruined that for himself at giving Marvik a little push that was enough to stop him mid-sentence so he could steady himself and not tumble over. Glowering at Lebeaux, while trying to breath steady. Great the push had him right back to nauseous. ( Keep this up and I'll see to hurling on you. )

Lebeaux snickered in amusement as the hyur tilted and staggered, then glared daggers at him. “Right. Then I shall leave you to your misery.” He declared as he patted the pocket where he had tucked the coins safely away. “Good day Marvik.”

Marvik seemingly grumbled, albeit wheezingly. ( Wait. ) Twelve, this was going to end in a regrettable road. ( Fine. Do you want me to grovel now to ask for your help. )

Lebeaux was preparing to leave, yet he paused at the small wheezing sound. He turned to find the hyur had written more while he was turned away. “Groveling is rather nice. I do enjoy the sight of a good grovel now and then. But when you can’t plead it takes something away from it.” He offered cheerfully. “Shall I see if I can’t relieve your symptoms for a bit?” He smirked smugly.

@theforestsquiet

[blackrose-ffxiv]

A Few Changes 09/04

Lebeaux Desrosiers tilted his head and swept a hand aside to gesture towards the hallway nearby. “Shall we? I’ve made a few changes since your last visit. And I see you have as well.” He noted, glancing at the miqo’te’s slicked back hair.

Kyt'ir Gahre glanced upwards, glancing at an errant bang that simply refused to follow the rest. "Finally, someone noticed." He mumbled, sounding rather disappointed at everyone else's lack of attention. "After you. Something tells me we both have tales to regale one another with... hopefully yours are more exciting, though." Modest as ever, the Keeper strolled over.

Lebeaux =smiiiiiled. “It makes that gouge across your face more noticeable.” He explained, turning on his heel to make his way back towards his offices. “Hm, tales of woe and haircuts, it sounds just the thing to be shared over tea.” He mused as he went in first, leaving the door open behind him for the miqo’te.

Kyt'ir's expression froze, quite unsure how to process that scathing remark. "...I knew I should've brought some Antidote, with a venomous tongue like that." He quipped in response. Once he was inside, he set his pack down by the door, an audible clink of glasses rattling against one another despite his best efforts to be delicate.

Lebeaux exhaled a flat little chuckle as he led the way into the rooms and immediately settled himself into a large chair. A hand waved towards tea service nearby, complete with savory and sweet snacks. “Help yourself, if you’ve been wandering around like a pack mule you’ve likely worked up a hunger.” His icy eyes darted towards the pack. “I assure you my venom isn’t deadly in small doses. Yet, if not antidotes, have you perchance brought me a gift rattling around there in your bag. A little office-warming present?”

Kyt'ir glanced down at the pack. "Been ferrying some of my wares about. Part of the tales to regale you with. Not sure if you have any fondness for rolanberry liqueur, but if so... I can leave a bottle behind." He mused as he settled himself down onto the couch, taking up a seat near the Elezen. "Or what warding potions I have left. Something tells me you would find some sort of use for them." That saintly, knowing little smile again, interrupted only for him to take a little sip of tea.

“Oh? Sounds quaint. I’ll accept the gift, though in the future do bear in mind I prefer brandy.” Lebeaux suggested, smiling serenely back at the other. “Mmm, well. Where to begin.” He reached over to the smoking box beside himself to prepare a pipe instead of a cup of tea, packing somnus lightly into it with his gloved pinkie. “I seem to have gotten myself into a spot of trouble with a disgruntled conjurer and he took it upon himself to rearrange my offices. With conjury. Shattered the floor with stones, water everywhere, furniture torn to shreds by wind.” He exhaled a long suffering sigh and placed a hand on his own cheek in a gesture of theatrical dismay. “It was a tragedy.”

Kyt'ir =quietly sipped his tea. "That would explain the extensive remodeling. It does seem to have turned out well... I hope he isn't bothering you anymore?" He murmured, making a mental note to bring brandy next time. He would not admit it out loud, but he felt a tad silly for forgetting such an important detail.

A shoulder rolled in a small shrug. “He’s been dealt with and will repay me for the damages.” Along with the one who dared to tell him where to find the Ishgardian. “Turns out he’s rather useful so he has been ‘tour guiding’ my research jaunts to the Shroud.” Lebeaux slipped the pipe between his lips and lit it, puffing gently at it before exhaling fragrant smoke. “How have you come to be a well-groomed potion peddler? Seems rather a step down. Have you been taking any custom orders as of yet? A problem presented to you solved in a bottle in a few days?” He took another slow drag on the pipe before he held it out, offering it to the other to enjoy a little somnus as well.

Kyt'ir's expression flickered, lighting up ever so slightly. It was either the pipe, or the proposition, the Keeper pausing to respond. "Of course. For a moderate fee, of course. Can't work for free. ...did you have something in mind?" He let that question hang while he brought the pipe to his lips, drawing in a slow, leisurely breath while his violet eyes honed in on Lebby. His business sense was already tingling.

Lebeaux leaned an elbow on the edge of his chair and settled his chin in his palm, smiling all the while as the miqo’te reached for the pipe and took a small drag. The alchemist already seemed intrigued. “Well, it’s troublesome finding a reliable alchemist. Even more so if you want one that’s discreet. Without having to resort to blackmail and confidentiality contracts.”

Kyt'ir canted his head as he took in a breath, finally letting it out in a low puff. "You know, sitting beside the stained glass windows in this light, you cut an almost sinister appearance. Was that intentional?" He quipped, flashing that saintly smile - when on earth did he get  so good at it? - before going back to idly puffing on the pipe. "Do continue, though."

Lebeaux placed a hand upon his own chest, lowering his gaze to glance aside as he smiled ever so sweetly. A perfect recreation of some Ishgardian saint or another from a classical painting. Yes, it was intentional. “Most Keepers who visit despise it. Too much light, they complain. I rather enjoy the constant reminder of divinity. After all, it’s Her spear and shield that guide me.” With that little act completed he held out his hand to take the pipe back so he could have a few more puffs on it. Perhaps he would have to look into getting another if this was to become a regular thing. “It’s a straightforward deal. Should I have a problem I require fixed, I will send for you. If you can fix it, you will be compensated accordingly. If not, we’ll never speak of it again.”

Kyt'ir's ears twitched, the Keeper giving a mock little pout as he gave the pipe up, passing it back over to the Elezen. "Mh. Seems straight forward enough, and gives me reason to research and push the boundaries so to speak." He murmured, going back to nursing at his tea as he mulled over the idea. "It sounds good to me. Just so long as you don't ask for a potion to turn lead into gold."

Lebeaux scoffed at the idea. He accepted the pipe and rose to his feet, moving over to join the Keeper on the couch. “Then I’ll give you a little challenge to get you started.” He explained, taking a slow drag on the pipe before he handed it over to the other again. It was easier to share from here. “Something to keep a mage from casting. A silencing potion, the effects need only last a bell or so. Yet I want it to be untraceable. Say if…” he glanced over at the table. “I were to mix it in their tea.”

Kyt'ir raised an eyebrow, glancing down into the tea - before simply nonchalantly taking another sip, finishing off his cup. If it were laced, he was doomed half a bell ago. "That would be straight forward enough. A little venom from a dart frog, ochu vine... could disguise it as a herbal tea, though it'd need to be sweetened to cover the bitterness. Not to mention the metallic taste from the quicksilver..." He mused aloud, before taking the pipe in hand. Brow furrowed, he took a more determined puff from his pipe. "The trick would be making it like your usual tea, assuming your target would notice you deviating from your routine."

@kytir

[blackrose-ffxiv]

A Favor for a Favor 09/25

Rashk Geilt smiles absently, lifting each bottle of alcohol to inspect it before he picks out the whiskey and adds some to his tea like it belongs there. Perhaps it does. Some do like it in desserts as well and the tea is fast on its way to becoming dessert with the dose of sugar in it. "Well, I rather enjoy meeting interesting people so my pursuits revolve around that." He sips the tea after stirring it a moment. Seeming happy with the flavour, he picks out a little pastry to go with it. "I offer my patrons a glimpse at the threads of fate that bind their lives, but I also keep them company at events. Daijiro hired me for my experience, I believe. Some of the other hosts are still ... works in progress."

“Ahhh, right.” Lebeaux Desrosiers set the cup of tea down and picked up another pipe from the smoking box beside him and began preparing it. “I suspect I should begin learning more about the hosts, perhaps you could assist me with that. I’ll need to ‘earn’ the favor of one and become their patron if I’m to be welcome.” He scoffed. “Any would be lucky to have me, the exercise seems a bit pointless.” Lebeaux placed the pipe between his lips and lit it before he glanced up with a small smile at Rashk. “So what would ‘glimpsing the threads of fate’ entail? Fortune telling, I assume.”

Rashk had left the other pipe perched precariously on the table, but there it sat for now while the Keeper nibbles on the pastry. It seems to meet approval as he takes a larger bite, sipping his tea afterwards. "Daijiro did mention that you two smoothed over your little ... misunderstanding and told us of having informed you of our rules." He turns, absently wandering closer to the stained glass window, seeming to admire the handwork. "And you assume correctly. Of course, I only have time for very special people. I wouldn't wish to offer anything but my most dedicated time and efforts."

Lebeaux smiled serenely and swallowed down whatever he had to say about the ‘misunderstanding’ on the next sip of oversweetened tea. Which he promptly followed by a small puff on the pipe, exhaling languidly as his icy pale eyes shifted aside to watch Rashk. Admiring the play of colored light across the Keeper’s dark skin. “Oh, relax. I’ll not try to blackmail or twist your arm into taking me as a patron.” He exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “I’m sure Daijiro has been spoon-feeding you enough vile lies about me to ensure you’ll stay well away.” He placed his hand on his own cheek and managed an expression of ‘hurt’ that never quite reached his chilly eyes. “I’m sure you’re simply here to gather information to lay in his lap later. I’ll see if I can charm one of the others.” One who had preferably never met Lebby before.

Rashk raises an eyebrow, turning his head fully to the side to regard Lebeaux. The smile slowly widening on his features looked a tad more unsettling than before, a touch manic. "Wouldn't it be smarter for me to stay away if I thought you were so uncouth?" He turns slowly, a twist on his heels that maintains perfect balance. Miqo'te and their unfair tail advantages, perhaps. He perches on the armrest primly, and while one might pretend that to remain in the realm of propriety, the way he leans in close isn't, breaking personal space boundaries."And if I were his perfect little pet, wouldn't I wish to spend my time poisoning the others against you instead of speaking to you at all?"

Lebeaux abandoned the tea in favor of the pipe as he leaned in and smiled sweetly at the miqo’te. “Well. You don’t strike me as the sort who takes advice or instruction well from others. Perhaps some sort of authority issues.” He suggested calmly as he peered up from under dark lashes as the armrest brought the miqo’te’s height to briefly higher than the elezen. Surely a rare advantage to be enjoyed. “You can’t take someone else’s word for it, you’ve got to see it for yourself. And thus, here you are.” He paused for a small drag on the pipe. “Seeing for yourself if I’m truly as terrible as Daijiro claims. I believe you’ll agree with me that he’s a bit on the dramatic side.”

Rashk inhales slowly, head tilting. Definitely not trying to catch a scent past the pipe and the sweet mix of tea and alcohol. His expression doesn't change as Lebeaux speaks, but his ears twitch and lower."Here I am," he agrees in a light tone, straightening enough that his breath isn't ghosting over the Elezen's ear. "Having a perfectly intriguing discussion with a gentleman. I'm sure Daijiro regretted the dramatics but he is ever so fond of rules that must be followed."

Lebeaux smelled of somnus and alcohol first and foremost. Underneath that there was cleaning alcohol, likely from the clinic, as well as lavender and lilac soap. “And so here we are.” He agreed with a calm smile. The next exhale of smoke ‘accidentally’ going directly at the miqo’te. Perhaps as a small vengeance for the teasing breaths that had skimmed along long ears. His free hand reached up, grasping Rashk’s chin to ensure the other’s attention was fully on him as he smiiiiled. “So why are we truly here, Rashk. As pleasant as this game as been I would like to know the goal of it.”

Rashk's ears pin back fully at the contact and he lifts his chin a fraction like his initial reaction might've been to lift it up out of the hand's reach, but in the end he doesn't try to break free. His eyes are either heavy-lidded--or narrowed, gaze firmly kept on Lebeaux. "Do the Ishgardians have a saying about trying to look a gift unicorn in the mouth, I wonder?"

Lebeaux smiled serenely all the while, his fingers digging in slightly but not yet enough to mark him with his nails or risk bruising that soft skin. “You’ll have to understand I’ll always be a bit wary where Daijiro is concerned. While we have a truce, in name, it wouldn’t be the first time he hasn’t quite kept his word. Soooo… shall we speak honestly.”

Rashk isn't wearing the easy smile anymore, expression more calculating and much colder without the host persona in place. It makes his eerie pale eye more jarring, perhaps, though no doubt it unsettles enough people despite his smile. "Very well," Rashk finally says, voice remaining light and at odds with his change in expression. "I came with an offer to accept your patronage should you desire access to the host club, no courting required. Daijiro has not set rules that a visitor might only enjoy the company of his chosen host, leaving you free to spend your time there as you desire while enjoying my services on paper."

Lebeaux narrowed his eyes slightly as the other shifted his expression. His own remained almost the same, though he was almost never seen without his standard smile. Nor did it ever quite manage to reach his winter pale eyes. When Rashk finally began speaking he eased his fingers off of the other’s chin and gave his cheek a gentle pat before he lowered his hand. “There’s a good boy.” He considered his offer as he smoked silently for a few moments. “A generous offer, indeed. And what do you get in return.” He mused as the lowered hand found its way to the furred lapels of the miqo’te’s jacket, toying lightly with the soft fluff.

Rashk turns his head away, not quite sharply enough to be unrefined, but the way light reflects off his pale eye gives his gaze fire. He runs his tongue over his upper teeth, a peek of fangs briefly visible under dark lips. His tail flicks restlessly, hidden behind the chair, but he lounges ever-so-casually against the backrest while Lebeaux debates. "Perhaps I'm looking to be on your good side later should I require the assistance of a man like you. Would you consider me favourably in such an occasion?"

Lebeaux smiles sweetly as he toys with the spotted fur along the other’s chest, his own chilly eyes watching in idle amusement as Rashk seemed to be weighing his answers. “Ohh, you are clever. A favor now for an unspecified favor to be collected at some point in the future.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “It is certainly tempting, though I can’t help but be concerned what sort troubles you foresee in your fortune telling to want my aid.” He lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. “But this sounds far more agreeable than actually working to earn the favor of another host properly. I’d say you have yourself a deal.” He offered, allowing the smile to grow to something smug.

Rashk  finds his smile again at Lebeaux's words, expression warming back to what it was. Unlike the other man, he's either more genuine--or simply fortunate enough to have the smile touch his eyes as well. "I'm sure there might not be any troubles at all. Your fate is in a constant state of change, after all. The new threads we weave today may create an entirely different tapestry by tomorrow." He tilts his head, gaze returning to Lebeaux. "We should set a proper date for the announcement, of course. No doubt you will wish to make an entrance and I should accompany you to ensure others know it's quite official."

@rashkgeilt