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Residuum. The familiar colour, texture, to the crystals were proof of what he’d been trying to deny to himself since Caduceus had first described his dreams of green glass to the group. And then Kemdal Dust had mentioned its use as a replacement for components of spell use, and a shiver had run down Caleb’s spine, but still he lied to himself, told himself that wasn’t the source of his scars. He’d hidden from the truth even as he’d laid out all of his components that night, taking mental stock of their monetary value. One residuum crystal might serve for most of his components, if it wasn’t consumed in the casting. He packed everything away again, and did not think on it any further. He couldn’t acknowledge the purpose of Trent’s experimentation, its value on the warfront, the sheer power of a wizard without components. Not now. They were here for Caduceus. He slept uneasily, dreamlessly but too close to the surface of wakefulness. Like if he slipped too deeply into the sleep he wouldn’t wake up. His arms ached as though he were sleeping in the cold, despite the heat of the volcanic furnace nearby, and in his sleep he ran his hands over old scars.
And then everything changes. The morning passes in a blur of realisations and revelations. He doesn’t know how to help, not really, but he remembers that his glove of blasting had been a gift, and he tries to meet Fjord’s eyes as he calls out to him.
Fjord’s face softens as their eyes lock, and Caleb has to look away almost immediately from a combination of the usual discomfort and the blush creeping up the back of his neck.
In the clamour of the rest of the Nein trying to gift their useful items to Fjord, Caleb just watches and listens. Fjord’s voice has always been honey sweet, if a little sicklier than usually suited Caleb’s taste, and while the Tal Dorei accent that now slips from him is still sweet and smooth, it’s lost its sickly undertones. Caleb know’s he’s imagining things if he tries to attribute the difference in quality to a shaving off of intentional charm, but he can’t help but do it anyway. The honesty in it is more than endearing.
It’s a hard day, and the Nein are battered and bruised when they retire to rooms in the Broken Stool tavern. As has become a habit recently when they split up for the night, Nott goes to a room with Beauregard and Jester, Caduceus takes a room to himself where he can stretch out to his full length, and Fjord joins Caleb. They never talk much before bed. Both of them are quiet by nature. But it’s a companionable silence. The silence of being comfortable in the presence of someone you know so well as to have very little to talk about.
Usually.
Today feels different. They’re exhausted, but there’s an energy radiating off Fjord that feels part reckless, part elated, and part anxiety. Caleb thinks he can understand why. He’s free, but knows that Ukotoa will be hunting for him. His friends are there for him, but he doesn’t know what he can do any longer. The first part at least, Caleb has some experience with. He opens his mouth to say as much, to try and reassure his friend, but Fjord speaks first.
“I’m sorry.”
“Was ?”
“I - I just wanted to apologise. You knew - you called me on my accent weeks ago, and I blew you off. I should have trusted you. I should have… “ he trailed off, gesticulating wildly with his hands as though those will make his point for him.
Caleb frowns.
“No, you told me you were not ready, and now you are. That is not anything you could have changed. It is simply what happens. If anything it is I who should apologise to you. I shouldn’t have pressed you to uh - out yourself- so to speak.”
Now Fjord is the one frowning.
“Are you sure? I was worried you’d feel like I didn’t trust you, that I’d betrayed you somehow.”
“Ja. I am sure. We all have secrets. You know this, I know this. It is not the fact you had one that is a surprise, only that it is so um. Mundane? For lack of a better word.”
“Mundane.”
Fjord’s tone is deadpan. Disbelieving.
“Yes. You were not brainwashed, or murdered. You did not reveal a secret family… You simply were trying to be better than you believed you were. Who among us is not trying to do that?”
“Well I suppose you have a point there. So all is forgiven?”
“There is nothing to forgive.”
Fjord half smiles then, and one of his tusks breaks free of his bottom lip. As if to break the moment he begins to undress for bed, but as he stretches out to pull his shirt over his head he winces and Caleb sees the scars marking his chest. They line up, two horizontal and one vertical between them. Fjord looks over and catches Caleb staring, and instinctively moves to cover his chest but Caleb shakes his head.
“Sorry, I’m not looking at the two - you know - Those are nothing new. The one in the middle. Is that from last night? I’ve never seen it before, and it looks fresh.”
“Oh”. Fjord’s stance relaxes slightly, but he’s still clutching his shirt. “Yeah. I kind of gambled with Ukotoa for a moment there.”
“Did you win?”
Fjord laughs, half startled.
“Yes, I think I did, actually.”
He starts to change into his sleep shirt, but stops and sits on the end of Caleb’s bed instead, still holding his shirt.
“You know, I actually started mimicking Vandren’s accent because it was the manliest one around me, and I thought - that’s what I want. That’s who I want to be… Until last night, when I woke up Caduceus, I don’t think I really knew what my own accent sounded like in my new voice.” He chuckles to himself. “I think I like it.”
Caleb flushes.
“I like it too. It sounds like you.” The phrase doesn’t even touch on the feelings that Caleb had about the change in accent earlier in the day, so he rephrases. “There was always something about your voice that was too sweet before. Now you are not trying so hard, it is like the difference between one of Jester’s pastries and homemade cake. You sound like home, now.”
There’s no mistaking the flush of green that coats Fjord’s neck and ears where they are more lightly dappled. He drops his head.
“Caleb?”
“Ja?”
“I know you and the others have been angry at me in the past for being impulsive, but I think I want to do something stupid.” He looks Caleb in the eyes, and then drops his gaze almost immediately, like he knows if he holds it too long Caleb will freeze up. Caleb imagines that Fjord is looking at his mouth, but ignores that part of his mind.
“What do you want to do?” Caleb asks carefully, calculating how much magic he has left for the day.
“Can I kiss you?”
Caleb feels his eyes go wide and his face flush red. It’s stupid to get entangled. He knows this. But it would be equally stupid to pretend that he had not been imagining this scenario for months. Slowly he nods his head. Fjord doesn’t move, and Caleb wonders if he’d rethought asking.
“I uh - ja- yes. That would be good. But if you have changed your mind while I though-” He’s cut off by the feeling of soft lips on his own. Fjord tastes of ale and the frost of the mountain air, and Caleb leans into the kiss, putting his hands up to run them lightly through Fjord’s short hair. He’s frustratingly unsure sure how long it is before they break apart, but when they do, he’s smiling, and so is Fjord.
He moves his hand down to one of Fjord’s pecs, drawing it slowly through the soft hair on his chest, and runs a thumb over the scar tissue in the middle.
“You know, I would say that this here was pretty impulsive too actually. Maybe your instincts are better than you think.”
“I caused a goat stampede like three hours ago Caleb.” Fjord laughs.
“Okay, maybe not every instinct is a winner. But best two out of three, no?”
“I’ll accept that.”
“Gut.” Caleb reaches up and captures Fjord’s mouth in another kiss.
When they break apart this time, Fjord runs a thumb over caleb’s cheek, cupping it in one hand.
“Thank you, Caleb.”
“I do not know that my kisses are so good as to deserve thanks, but it is my pleasure.”
“You know what I mean.” Fjord chuckles, but he leans in and kisses Caleb again, and Caleb did, but this is much nicer than talking about it.