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Hi! All the political and ocean concerns in the M9 have me thinking about Astrid and Eodwulf and Sabien. Hmm I know this is a reaching prompt, but something about Caleb and Fjord and people that you used to know? Thanks for all your amazing work, and stay safe during these crazy times! 💜

The beach is mostly trashed by the end, so they spend an extra few days on Rumblecusp to help the villagers clean up.

Which isn’t so bad. The food is good, if...adversarial, and the people now formerly of the cult of Vokodo take to wine-making like, well, former cultists.

Beauregard apparently has opinions about their process, but it’s not like they can get Marrow Oak on a tropical island; and anyway, it hasn’t stopped her from drinking any.

It hasn’t stopped Fjord from pouring a cup either, which he sips as Caleb emerges from the gloom. Behind him, sounds of clean-up and commotion, the curling grey smoke of a bonfire reaching toward pinprick stars above.

“Did they kick you out too?” Fjord dips his head. “I always feel like Marius when they start the heavy lifting.”

“Jester said I was getting in her way,” Caleb sighs, and plops down onto the bench beside him. He’s close enough that Fjord can see the glow in his eyes. “I decided that was a good enough excuse to take a break.”

“Man, at least Yasha was polite about it,” Fjord commiserates. “All she had to do was throw the cart over her head, and I got the message pretty fast.”

Caleb answers with a muted laugh, and a lock of hair slips out from behind his ear. Fjord smiles too, and offers his cup.

“So it’s over now, huh?” he says as Caleb takes a sip. “Time to head back soon.”

“I suppose so,” Caleb nods. “It feels like only days since we arrived on the island.”

“It was a few days ago, wasn’t it? Er...you would know, I mean.”

“Yes. If you want to be technical, we arrived ten days ago.”

“And it’s only been, like, ten hours since the Traveler ‘ascended.’” Fjord makes the appropriate air quotes. “Did you see him at the celebration dinner afterward? I’m pretty sure he ate eighteen cupcakes. Maybe nineteen.”

“I can see where Jester learned it from. Although,” Caleb adds dryly, “they were not bad cupcakes. I am still impressed that Caduceus managed to make icing on a deserted island.”

“Vegan, too.”

“Yes. Will wonders never cease.”

Caleb passes the cup back and Fjord gently swirls the liquid inside, a violent mishmash of pinkish-purple that doesn’t seem to settle either way. 

It’s cool in his hands. He looks up and takes a slow breath.

“Do you...that is...it seems a bit pointless to ask, since, well, it’s not like he’s your god—”

“Hm?”

Fjord considers the torchlight on the water. “Do you think we did the right thing?

Caleb is quiet for a while.  

“I...do,” he says, eventually. “We...helped the Traveler accomplish what he wanted, and we gave the people a new—we gave them something. Perhaps their collective belief will be enough to scrape out a new deity entirely, if the Moonweaver decides to pass.”

“Can gods...do that?”

Caleb shrugs. “They are gods. What would we know?”

The waves whistle as they wash against the shore. Then Fjord says:

“But...what about Jester? I mean, I know he promised he’d still be around, and I’m pretty sure Beau would kill him if he wasn’t, but it still feels like an end, doesn’t it? Like the old days are over. There’s no going back.”

Caleb makes a faint humming sound. “The old days had been over for a while.”

“Right,” says Fjord, “but—”

“I understand.”

In the distance, someone tosses another log onto the bonfire. It’s probably Yasha. Cheers go up.

“A lot of things have been changing. Have changed already, for all of us, I think.”

Fjord looks over. “How do you mean?”

He is surprised when he finds Caleb staring back at him. The firelight glows on his skin.

“You are a prime example, no? Think of what has changed for you.”

“Er...”

“The boat,” Caleb clarifies. “The explosion. The sword, then losing the sword, then...well.” And he gestures to Fjord, going up and going down, landing firmly on his symbol to the Wildmother.

“Oh.” Fjord suddenly feels a bit embarrassed. “Well. Yes. But...I think I was overdue for some changes.”

“You don’t miss them, then?” Caleb asks. “The old days?”

Fjord shuffles a little on the bench. His feet leave a groove in the sand.

“Well,” he admits, “it’s not...not like I don’t. It’s just...they were long ago, now. I’m not sure I’m that person, anymore. I...definitely don’t think I want to be.”

Caleb’s glance shifts to the ground. “Yes,” he says. “That, I understand.”

Fjord passes him the cup again. He takes it.

In quiet sort of voice, he says, “You aren’t. For the record. I mean...I don’t think you’re like how you were...like before.”

Caleb looks at the wine. “You didn’t know me.”

“You’ve...filled in some of the details for us, and I have an active imagination. Besides, I’ve been around you for nearly a year now.”

Caleb drinks. It’s his longest swig yet. When he finishes, he exhales and wipes at his mouth.

“You have, haven’t you?”

He hands the drink back.

“Everyone has,” Fjord says.

It’s Caleb’s turn to watch the tide. The breeze moves his collar. Without his coat on, the wind ruffles his shirt.

“I believe...that is what changed me, in the end. If not for y—for everyone, I would not be who I am today.”

“Yeah. We’re all made by who we stick with, I think. In the past and the present. It’s all a matter of luck.”

“I don’t know if ‘luck’ is the word I would use.”

Fjord snorts. “I don’t know if I would, either.”

“Gods,” Caleb says suddenly, “that was—your situation—”

“It’s okay,” Fjord says. “It could’ve been worse. I could’ve been brainwashed by evil wizards who wanted to...what? Turn me into an assassin? Use me as a weapon? Force me to kill innocents?”

“It was a mixed bag. Maybe all of the above? But at least I had a loving family, first.” 

From anyone else, it could’ve sounded cruel. Fjord has long ago gotten used to the weird way the Mighty Nein choose to express themselves.

“Do you miss those old days?”

Caleb’s smile comes back, but this time it’s a little stale.

“Sometimes...hah. Sometimes I even miss the days that came after. Not everything about Soltryce was so bad, you know. And even the...as you say, the ‘evil wizards,’ they were...at the time, despite it all, I enjoyed it.”

“At the time.”

“Yes.”

“And now?”

The smile flickers. “A mixed bag.”

Fjord lets the sickly sweet wine dance on his tongue. 

“I have a feeling I know what you mean. I miss...I miss some parts, too. I miss some people, actually, or...I miss the way I used to know them.”

When Caleb is quiet, Fjord finds himself pressing on. He’s not sure if he even means to.

“I hated the orphanage,” he whispers. “I hated it. I hated everything about it, which just made...it just made...” he blinks, “it made me all the more grateful at least Sabian was on my side. I...I used to think he always would be. I always thought it would be me and him against the world, and then...then...gods, I’m sorry—”

“No,” Caleb shakes his head. “Don’t be. He was important to you.”

“Of course he was.” Fjord huffs. “He used to be my whole world. We did everything together. We even signed up together. And then...”

Caleb’s voice is hesitant, but he still asks, “What happened?”

Fjord laughs. “My world got bigger. I...once I met Vandren, got used to sailing, I...I don’t know. It could be selfish, but sometimes I wonder if Sabian resented the fact that he wasn’t the only person in my life anymore. Though I doubt my feelings are important enough for them to be the reason why he betrayed us.”

He all but spits the words out. It’s only then that that he realizes he’s been crying into the mug.

"Gods, I’m—”

He feels Caleb touch his shoulder. It’s still hesitant, but he does.

“It’s alright.”

“...and I’ve ruined the wine.”

“We can always get more.”

A pause. 

“I...the worst part is not knowing. Not knowing, and...and not being able to understand. Why. Why did it happen? Was it always my fault? Was...was it always like that, and was I too blind to see? What if it was never even what I thought it was?”

“...yes.”

Fjord looks up.

“Did you ever think of talking to them again? Not...gods, not Tr...you know, him, but...maybe that classmate—”

Caleb sucks in a breath. Again, “Yes.”

“Did it...help?”

He lets go. “Er...to be honest? No.” Then he catches Fjord’s expression, tacks on hastily, “Er, in your situation, it could—”    

Fjord bites into his laugh. “It had better. I’m paying good money to find him, actually.”

Caleb doesn’t ask for more details, which isn’t totally surprising. Apparently they’d had similar ideas anyway.

The tension drains away slowly, and Fjord finds it in himself to ask:

“Was she different?”

Caleb shrugs. “In many ways...yes and no. She had changed, but those changes had been in her always. I could see where they came from. I could see why they happened.”

“She was unlucky,” Fjord tries. “The people around her...”

“Yes. She never got the chance I did.”

“No,” Fjord nods. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t feel entitled to Caleb’s expression at that. He doesn’t look, instead stares at the water and counts the seconds as the waves skim by.

“Do you think that Sabian—”

“No.”

“Right.” He hears Caleb breathe out. “Probably not. If it, er, if it counts for anything, though, I am of the mind that...though I did not know you before, you...you are a good person now. Our past...experiences to the contrary, you are a person that I would want to be, Fjord.”

Fjord nearly spills his cup into the sand.

“You—what?”

Caleb, to his shock and delight, looks offended. His face reddens to match his hair.

“I just—well—yes,” Caleb gets out, “I just mean...I think you are a good person. You cannot—that cannot be so hard to believe, unless—I told you, didn’t I? That I forgive you for the sword incident—”

Fjord decides to come to his rescue. He puts the cup down and waves his hand. “Right, right, you did, you did.”

“In case you had forgotten. Your memory is...”

Fjord raises an eyebrow.

“Nevermind.” Caleb amends hastily. “My point is, if you are...worried about your past, and the people who have...who have shaped you to who you are, I just want you to know that I...the you that you are now, Fjord, is an admirable person.”

A pause. Then:

“Thanks, Caleb.”

Caleb leans back on the bench. “Of course.”

They sit there in the silence for a little longer, watching the moon pull slowly on the tide, tracing the shape of clouds on the night sky.

“I—yeurk. Oh, that’s bad.”

“Hm?”

“The wine, I definitely ruined it. I, ah, think we might need a new glass.”

A laugh. 

“Come on. Let’s go get one, then.”

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