Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s been a slow day. The days where he takes breaks and simply just exists as a person is honestly exhausting. It is hard enough with the grief that he hangs onto so tightly, and even with all his friends joining him on his journey, it is tiresome.

He wants to be able to be himself again. Essek Thelyss. It isn’t so simple these days.

Regardless, he is relaxing in a summer home located in Nicodranas. The Nein bought it as an impulse purchase after a tavern crawl, and decided it would be better to make some use of it.

It is a huge house. Big enough to house all nine of them comfortably, as well as others, if they really wanted to fit in. Beau and Jester especially were happy to take the estate out of a rich guy’s hands, insisting that he needed some renovations.

Currently, he and Caleb are the only ones that reside here.

They are not exactly on vacation. Not officially anyways. Essek hates that word, because it would imply that he is taking a break from work.

Whether it is work on himself, jobs for others or his projects, he is always working.

Maybe that is a problem. Even back before he met the Nein, he was always working. Always thinking about theory after theory. In the few moments he had alone time, he rarely ever took the chance to just simply relax.

So now, he will take this chance. His mind is restless though. Not because of his impending doom or because of the chance of this all falling away, no.

He wants to do something he has not done in a long time. It feels a bit silly, but the idea has planted itself inside his mind after he talked to Jester the other day. She had been very excited with her newest painting project, and Essek had realized he had never told her about how he was a former painter.

Not professional, maybe a bit talented though. It did not aid him well in the end, considering how long it has been since he has even entertained the idea.

And now, the idea of painting is very exciting to him. So he has spent the last half hour recalling when life was much easier, a bit lonelier, and a bit more creatively charged in an artistic sense.

With a low groan, he rises out of his loveseat. He starts to walk around the room, with his hands wringing behind his back.

“Essek?” Caleb has immediately been taken out of his reading, and now he stares at Essek. Who stupidly stands in the middle of the room.

There is only one other thing to do.

He lays supine on the floor. Essek drops his head with a dreary sigh.

“I want to paint again,” he states to the air. Caleb will hear it for sure.

“Again?”

“Yes. Again. I miss it.”

“Then it is decided. You will get to paint again.”

“I never told you that I did, did I?”

“This is the first time I am hearing of it.”

“Well, now you know. I do paint. Um. I used to.” He cringes inwardly, knowing fully well he has not painted for a good number of years. He thought he was too good for it. What a shame.

“Would you like to paint right now?”

“Do we even have materials?”

“Jester left some of her paints here, as you know she was planning on painting the ceilings of some of our friend’s rooms.”

“I don’t want to use her-”

“It will be fine. We can easily purchase more to replace anything lost, right?”

Essek sighs as he sits up, now Caleb has also slid out of the desk he was sitting at. He stands, looking at Essek curiously.

“I… guess it would be fine. Maybe I can take a look at her paints and see if I recognize anything first.”

“Oh?”

“Come now, surely you know there are different types of paints?”

“Eh. I am not an artist.” Caleb sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

Essek chuckles. He reaches a hand out for Caleb to take, and soon enough he finds himself standing once more. “I disagree. Evidence: Widogast’s Nascent Nein-Sided Tower.”

Caleb’s grip in his hand tightens for a split second, and he can see Caleb working the math in his head. He then says, “I just remember well.”

Hand in hand, they walk towards where Jester’s supplies were, last found in Kingsley’s room, as she wanted to create a nice mural for him. Luckily for them, Jester won’t be back for a few days as she is running things over at her and Veth’s detective agency.

Essek’s next words are, “You are creative. Your memory certainly helps, but you make it all happen. You take an image from your mind and place it into reality. That is art.”

“I suppose. I will say I am not a painter then.”

Essek’s hand slips out of Caleb’s as they reach the room, the door is open. “Fair enough.”

Caleb suddenly yelps as they enter the room, and Essek jumps. He looks to the floor for any possible rats or spiders- but then Caleb giggles.

He turns back and looks at him confused.

“Sorry. I was just realizing.. Did you want to paint alone? I didn’t even ask you and now here I am following you like a puppy.”

Essek grins. He turns back to walk further into the room, spotting the corner of the room that has been haphazardly turned into a sort of a ladder with crates stacked on each other. Paints as well as some canvas have been set down on the floor. Other adjacent materials rest against the wall.

“Caleb. For all your intelligence, you can be stupid sometimes.”

Caleb sighs, and that is that. They both know they are being silly, and that is fine. Essek loves him all the more for it.

Essek crouches down to examine the canvases that are resting against the wall, he distinctly remembers Jester mentioning how sometimes she likes to leave them out in case another idea strikes her fancy.

His lips turn downward as he takes a medium sized one. It feels like stealing. Which is ridiculous, because he knows Jester would be ecstatic to see him like this, but it still feels wrong.

Thoughts of Jester start to drift to thoughts about the very material itself. “Oh.” He says out loud.

“Are you going to use that?” Caleb asks.

“I think I might. I was just realizing that the Dynasty and other nations might have different.. materials for canvas.”

“Truly? That is fascinating.”

“It is. You wouldn’t happen to know what material this is, would you?”

“I believe Jester said at one point it was hemp?”

Essek’s hand passes over the canvas, feeling the slight coarseness. Yes. It was different.

“Within the Dynasty, our canvases are made with spider silk. Usually enchanted to become a little thicker in the process, as the silk is delicate.”

“And the paint moves well? Wouldn’t it be hard to paint on such a sticky surface?”

“Once you apply a primary ingredient to it, the stickiness goes away.”

Caleb is staring at him, and he can see the hunger for knowledge in those eyes.

“Could you hold this? I need to examine the paints.” He holds it out to Caleb, who takes it, and holds it as if it was a cat. Essek glances down at the various paints that lay about with a surmising expression.

“Do you know what you are painting?” Caleb questions.

“Ah. Here we go,” he plucks a few colors from the pile. He considers the question asked to him and hums. “I have a few ideas.”

“I assume you won’t paint in here.. Though I doubt he would mind much.”

“Nah. The previous room we were in has the best lighting. After all, we have that huge walkway window.”

Caleb nods, still holding the canvas gingerly. Essek is amused at how cautious he is. He walks past Caleb, hovering near the doorway. Turning around, he winks at him, and motions for him to follow.

They walk back to their original sitting area, and Caleb sets down the canvas, and Essek places the brushes and paints on a small table. Caleb decides to sit down where his book was closed, seemingly waiting for the next step.

Essek tells him that it will take him a few moments to set up everything, and so he goes to work. Setting up the canvas is pretty easy, though he does have to get Caleb to help him drag the easel out from a corner. Positioning it just so the sunlight can hit enough of the hemp square.

Not too much where the reflected light would hurt him, but at least a good amount where he can have a bit of a spotlight for his work.

It is then he realizes that the paints he will be using today are most likely different from ones he is used to.

With a sigh, he glances at the menagerie of the paints. The pigments are more muted, and some of the colors names are familiar, some are not. He sorely wishes he had his luminescent paints.

Various jars with descriptions of ‘derived from flowers’ and ‘derived from minerals’ pique his interest. Most of the paints he worked with from before had gotten their color from different types of mushrooms that grew in the Shadowshire. Some ore was used as well, to create chalks and mixtures for art. As well as magic. The two unsurprisingly have much overlap.

The gemstone collection of paints really catches his eye. The way they glimmer and gleam, and he can clearly see the rarity of them just by looking at it.

Silver and platinum paint were the signature colors of Dynasty artists. As always, to honor the Bright Queen and the beauty of the Light, was to use the very colors that adorn the members of the high court.

He can admit without shame that he loved using silver paint. It always reminded him of starlight. Dark colors were not frowned upon, but applied to make the lighter and brighter colors really pop. After all, every light needs its shadow.

A chair moves, and the noise perks his head up. He sets down the gemstone paint and sees that Caleb is near him again. A soft smile appears on the Zemnian’s face.

“I am interested in seeing you paint. I like learning new things about you.”

“That is all I am to you, a subject for study?” He asks it teasingly, and he knows Caleb knows he is just joking.

Caleb huffs. “You are very intriguing if I do say so myself.”

“Speak for yourself, I would take lifetimes to study you,” the words slip out of him, and he nearly recoils at his own boldness. Instead of letting panic settle in, he smiles widely, showing his fangs.

“Gods. Confidence is quite attractive on you.” Caleb pecks him on the lips, and Essek savors in the quick kiss.

“I try to be, on most days.” He grows a bit quiet, frowning at the implication. Caleb takes his cheek in his hand.

“Have you finished setting up?

Essek’s frown quickly fades, and he nods. “Yes. I was just thinking about all this paint I have at my disposal. It is a bit more than I am used to.”

Caleb nods in understanding. He pats Essek’s cheek and whispers, “Let’s get this show started, shall we?”

He is eager to begin. He is a little nervous, knowing Caleb is right behind him. It isn’t his skill he is worried about. No, there is something else.

It has been so damn long.

He feels like he has been born again, and is just trying out artistry for the first time.

Failure is an option. He breathes out, letting his mind calm down from his internal fears of letting someone down. It is just Caleb here. He won’t mind seeing him take a few moments to enjoy something.

Something as simple as painting.

As he takes the palette in his hands, he inspects the paints once more.

“What do you usually paint? Caleb inquires with his arms crossed.

“Landscapes. I always liked painting the sky. All the little details, like stars, among other things always kept me focused.”

“Is that why you chose this room? The skyline is visible here through the window.. and there are a decent amount of buildings in this area of Nicodranas.”

“If I was to paint the landscape here, don’t you think I would have the canvas pointing in that direction?”

Caleb flushes. “I guess so.. What are you going to paint then?”

Essek shrugs. “I will be honest. I said I had ideas but.. They are just ideas. More like concepts. I don’t have a tangible thing in mind.” Quite unusual for someone like him, but he needs to take it slow. He will take his time with this exercise.

“Hmm. Maybe you could just paint whatever comes to mind? Whatever comes from your heart. Don’t think about it much.”

A raised eyebrow makes Caleb smile cutely.

“I guess.. I could try. I have never painted without a plan.”

“Maybe you should try it differently this time.”

And that was it, wasn’t it. He is trying to reconnect to what exactly- his past? Himself?

He has heard of people painting randomly, just letting their emotions pour onto the page. He isn’t sure he can do that. Over a hundred years he has built an icy wall to be careful. To not feel too much. Only now are they finally being acknowledged again. The idea of painting randomly sends shivers down his spine.

Taking some of the gemstone paints, the red, the green, he puts a small portion of them onto his palette. He also takes the solid, non sparkly colors of yellow, blue, and pink. He sighs.

“Again, if you don’t want me to watch, that is fine. I assume you haven’t ever painted in front of someone before, have you?” Caleb goes to sit in the chair that Essek had been sitting in before.

“On the contrary, I have. In the beginning at least.”

“Oh?”

“You see, for the noble Dens, at a certain age every member is offered insight into craftsmanship. All kinds of instruments and tools are introduced. It is a way to encourage hobbies early on, as well as try to spark old memories in case someone has been reborn. It is believed tactile experience with objects speed up the beginning of anamnesis.”

Caleb leans forward with his hands clasped.

Essek pauses, but then speaks again, “As it turns out, I took a liking to painting. I was terrible at it, but I think I just remember marveling at all the paintings in our house, and how impressive they were. I knew much skill went into that, and while magic was pretty much something I was around from birth, it was just nice.”

“You were pretty young then, right?”

“Yes. I wanted to learn more.”

“Ever curious, I see.”

“So no, I wasn’t making masterpieces with detailed landscapes and portraits right away of course. It was something though.”

Skill developed over the years. In a short amount of time, he had been able to realistically paint. It did impress his mother, but unfortunately, when he came up with the gravity field cantrip, that was much more impressive. And then, he was more attuned to the attention he got from magical pursuits.

So eventually, his painting sessions grew shorter and shorter, until they ceased to exist. He had more important things to care about. Which was mostly true, as he was invested in what the beacons had to offer. It is another regret of his, and now thankfully, he has a second chance. He doesn’t take those for granted.

He maneuvers his palette so it can rest on the easel. Standing in front of the canvas is intimidating, but in a good way.

Producing a piece of chalk from under his cloak, he makes a single line in the corner. A totally random, unplanned scribble. He smiles at the tool, knowing full well he was not the best at drawing. Painting was always his kind of thing. No matter though.

Caleb has fallen silent, and while he has obtained his book from his desk, Essek is almost positive he is being watched.

He still isn’t sure what to sketch out. Maybe it would be best if he just took paint and splashed it on. He doesn’t know where that action could take him though.

Seeking inside his heart, he longs for something he can pull out of it.

He thinks of stars. Lights that represent possibility, flashing in darkness. He’s painted many stars before.

He thinks about the Mighty Nein, and how they’ve changed him. How each of them in their own unique way trudges on through the world inspires him. How does one paint that?

He thinks about family. His Den. He’s trying to not think about home too much.

All a little ironic, isn’t it. In the end, he will always have part of the Dynasty connected to him, even if he runs far away from it.

His mind wanders, and eventually he starts to think about Caleb. He’s usually on his mind the most compared to others of the Nein. His potential, his compassion, his intelligence- all very attractive qualities.

He recalls the words Caleb had told him before: paint whatever comes to mind.

Taking the chalk still in his hand, he continues his line, marking it diagonally, occasionally changing the direction it goes just a bit, but it always arcs back into the middle. He lifts the chalk off the canvas, and looks at the line. Longer now, it looks vaguely like a lightning bolt that runs across to the middle of the canvas.

A sea, with a strike of lightning. There could be merit in that. He has never painted a storm before. It would certainly resonate with how he is feeling as of late.

Hm. Lightning. Another visualization for light.

The paintings from his home always were about light. In some way, shape or form. Phosphorescent and luminescent paints were quite popular to achieve a brighter, more enlightened painting. He may not have luminous paint with him but… that doesn’t mean he can’t try to recreate the effect. That would be interesting. It may take him longer to do so, but if he gets tired of it, magic can always assist.

He glances at the lightning bolt shaped line he created, and tilts his head. If he wants this to come from his heart, then he should put everything out.

It strikes him right then. The line resembles more of a crack in a tile, splitting it in half. A painting that represents his heart….

There may be cracks that form within, yet the soul remains the same.

“I got it Caleb! I know what I want to paint.”

“Excellent! You take great pride in this, I can tell. You are always quiet when you’re creating something.”

Essek can hear the amusement easily in Caleb’s voice, and he waves him off. “Well, I should be proud. This is quite nice.. returning to this. I missed it.”

Caleb cracks open his book again. “I hope you don’t mind a bit of observation,” he teases.

Essek whips around to Caleb. “You’re just opening your book for show?”

“I can easily multitask.”

“How about you continue your reading, and I will continue to paint. It will be like it was a half hour ago, except I am painting, not lounging.”

“Basically, you mean, us enjoying each other’s company while also giving each other space?”

“Correct, Widogast.”

Caleb laughs mirthfully. “I do want to read a little bit more. You’re just getting started with your piece anyways, so… I will check up on you in ten minutes.”

“How long do you think painting takes?” Essek asks incredulously.

“Well, most of the ones I have seen usually only take a few minutes.”

“That is because Jester has magic paints. Painting in its basic form takes a bit longer. Usually hours. This is a decently sized canvas too! I doubt I will make much progress in ten minutes.”

Caleb has the audacity to not look surprised. In fact, the smile on his face makes Essek realize he was probably teasing him. “Regardless, sweetheart, I will take ten minutes. I can spend all day watching you, if you want.”

“Get back to reading. I am not going anywhere,” Essek tells him. Caleb smirks, but does indeed look back down at the pages.

The both of them return to their leisurely activities.

As predicted, Caleb only reads for about ten minutes. After that time had passed, he had set the book aside, and chose to watch the show that was happening in front of him.

Essek knows he can be a good entertainer, he has bullshitted his way through many events, but surely watching someone paint must be a little boring, right?

He shakes his head. Ah well. He directs his thoughts back to his nostalgic remembrance.

A particular painting always stood out to him. He thinks Caduceus would really appreciate it. It was a painting of a garden, with a pool containing water the color of a midnight blue. The stars inside the pool might as well have been actual stars within, rather than just reflections.

Lining the edges of the pool, extending into a field of flowers, were fungi of all kinds. Each had a nice glow to them, and the scenery was at night- allowing for all the glowing colors to truly pop out. For every fungus, there was a speckle of star to match in the sky. Reflections all over the place, in that piece.

Another painting, one of his own, he made for Verin per his request. It was a strange one, as his brother wanted a portrait of himself, but he insisted on being portrayed as bloodied. Maybe it was a moment of rebellion for his younger brother, hoping that his image seen like that would convince others that he was different.

Most of the time, cleanliness was a necessity in the Dynasty. To look filthy was to be disgraceful. To be bathed in blood, even if you were a warrior, was an unfortunate occurrence.

Verin had sat on a high stool, and looked towards Essek. One half of his brother’s body would be bathed in light, and the other would be captured in darkness. It was tricky to balance it, and all the blood that had dripped off Verin’s shoulders and torso were difficult to portray accurately.

Essek’s addition to the painting was to have his light source hit Verin’s back, rather than his front. Illuminating him from the back was considered unsightly, but at that point, Essek really didn’t care much for the upper echelons etiquette.

He pauses in his painting, for a brief second. Now that he thinks about that, that was the last painting he made. He had become Shadowhand quite soon after that.

His mother made sure that painting did not see the light of day. Verin appreciated it all the same though.

It is nice to think about the galleries at the Dynasty. He can only think of them with happiness, since they provided a much needed respite for him.

He blushes hard at the idea of bringing Caleb to one of the galleries. There were three types of painting techniques. The oldest being grayscale paintings. Predictably popular with outsiders, since they can experience darkvision a little bit through that.

The other two were pretty ancient as well, most likely being as old as the Dynasty itself. Phosphorescent and luminescent paints. Both types of luminous paints, but two slightly different effects. Sometimes they were both used together, but sometimes they were used separately. Many of the galleries in the Firmaments were equipped with special lights to capture the beauty of phosphorescent paint.

Luminescent paint has always been his favorite, mostly because of the way it already glows from naturally occurring heat. With phosphorescent paint, it has to be carefully placed and it takes time for its effects to be seen. Still, the two types of luminous paints each have their merit.

To take Caleb to see these paintings, unlike any he has seen in the Empire or Nicodranas, unlikely even Tal'Dorei features something like this…. he needs to make it happen. One day.

The elf glances back at Caleb with a smile.

“I think you would appreciate the Dynasty artworks one would find there,” Essek begins.

He continues after Caleb stays quiet, “A lot of them glow in the dark, while looking completely different in pure light. We were always wanting to find balance between dark and light. Since a lot of luminescent things grow underground, we have taken it to use in our paintings.”

“That is incredibly fascinating. It sounds like magic.”

“And that is the best part. It is all natural. No magic involved! Just a bit of chemistry,” Essek states with a bit of pride. The combination of science and art has always amused him.

He bites his lip, because he can hear the unsaid question waiting on Caleb’s lips. He doesn’t speak again, but it is loud and clear: to be able to visit the Dynasty again would be nice.

Before Caleb can apologize, or say whatever he may say, Essek clears his throat. He sets down the palette. “I am surprised Jester has not acquired phosphorescent or luminescent paint yet. She would be all over that stuff.”

“She hasn’t discovered everything yet, but she is determined,” Caleb has gotten up, and hovers in Essek’s personal space.

“She is indeed. I wonder what she would do with such paints. It does take a bit of practice, as it is a different pigmentation, and you have to consider where you place it..”

“I think she would love to have a teacher for that,” Caleb says, resting a hand on Essek’s shoulder.

Essek nods with a grin, but it soon falls short. “Ah, but.. those kinds of paints are only in the Dynasty as far as I know.”

“Jester and Yasha could easily sneak in and get some. We still are heroes of the Dynasty, ja?”

Essek considers it, lips pursed. “That would probably be for the best,” he tries to sound steady, but to his own ears it does sound resigned.

“You want to go back, don’t you?”

“It’s complex. I don’t think I have hope for my home, like you do for yours. And yet.. I did grow up there. While there were intense political schemes around me, and a lot of pressure- I don’t regret my path in life. There were some good things there.”

“Like cool luminescent paints.”

“That, as well as the sky. It has always been a comfort for me,” he shifts a bit, as a ray of light becomes stronger. Caleb immediately goes to cover him from the stinging light.

“Thank you,” he says with a laugh. Caleb laughs as well.

“The sky was very pretty. Not what I was used to at all, but I think in the weeks we spent there, it also became a comfort in some ways.”

“That place.. is also where I met you.” Essek says. As they drift closer to one another, Caleb's blue eyes shine with something immense.

“It is. How curious that we happened to meet in such a way.”

“It may as well have been impossible. However, I am grateful for it.”

“Me too. I love you so much, Essek Thelyss.”

“I love you very much, Caleb Widogast,” Essek smiles as the kiss happens. It is slow this time, but laced with so much love.

When they break apart, they are still looking into each other’s eyes. Essek untangles his hands from Caleb with a smirk. “As much as I love this, I do want to get back to painting. We can talk more about.. my situation another day, yes?”

“Of course. Today is just a day for you to be you. I understand.” Of course Caleb would understand. Essek turns back to face the canvas.

The sun just had to shift ever so slightly right now, and Essek winces at the idea of sunlight pouring in. He breathes out a sigh of relief as he hears a curtain slide, and the light on his canvas lessens just enough to where it was tolerable like before.

He continues working on the canvas, until the sun starts to go down. Then, he has to concede and put down his materials. Working in the sunlight was his idea, and while he could finish in the dark, it could change the whole composition of the painting.

Perhaps, that was alright, he thought to himself, the voice sounding suspiciously like Caleb. He snorts to himself, and makes a decision. He will decide after dinner.

Dinner is made, and Essek indulges Caleb on more insight into the Dynasty and its artistry. Caleb offers some of his own known art history in the Empire, and Essek marvels on how different the two nations are. Art is a universal experience, but it will always manifest differently around the world.

When their dishes are getting nearly wiped clean, Essek proposes a question to his love. “Do you think I should continue working in a different light?”

“You aren’t going to work in the dark?”

“If I was, I would have started out that way. We can just use a lantern?”

He could risk candlelight, but that could be a fire hazard. Even with Caleb here, he doesn’t really want anything getting burned. Not if he can help it.

Caleb takes his hand from across the table. “If that’s what you want.”

Essek narrows his eyes. Caleb isn’t lying to him, or necessarily hiding something, but there is a hint of hesitation in the man.

“What’s wrong?” Essek asks.

Caleb grips his wrist. “I just have a question. It’s silly, but… uh.” Essek waits for him to go on. “Don’t most artists of your home paint in the dark? They don’t use sunlight because of the sensitivity.”

He had caught on. He had expected him to wonder about it. Essek sighs. “A lot of them do. However, some who dedicate themselves to the Light and find a passion for art are bound to use magical light for their pieces. It just depends.”

“But, sunlight. You’ve never mentioned anyone actively using sunlight before.”

“Yeah, and now here I am, using it to my advantage. Not to torture myself! I just..” Essek tries to hide in his arms, but Caleb has gotten out of his seat, and his arms are now wrapped around Essek.

The elf looks up to him and says, “During the days of worship, when the sun would come out.. I would take the time to paint. It was a nice way to avoid much of the festivities.”

Caleb expels a bark of laughter, which makes Essek’s proud smile grow very wide. He is let go of for a moment, as Caleb readjusts his embrace, now placing kisses on Essek’s neck and cheeks. “You are a brilliant, nerdy bastard.”

“It was not typical, but at that point I already had a penchant for taking risks. I knew vaguely of Empire artists painting in the sun, and I figured it couldn’t be terrible,” he takes a small sip of his drink. “I am almost positive there were others who did what I did, avoiding direct eye contact of course. Only the priests are insane enough to stare at the sun for hours.”

“Speaking of hours…”

“Ah. You probably have a good idea on how long I have painted. How long has it been?”

“You have painted for approximately four hours, forty two minutes, and six seconds,” Caleb says automatically as he pats Essek’s shoulders. The warm hands leave his body all too soon. “Are you going to keep working on it today?”

“Honestly, I was just getting started.”

“You’ve made quite the progress on it,” Caleb has traveled back to the sitting room, and calls out to Essek.

Essek joins him, and takes the time to look at his painting. It’s probably only halfway done, but it has been coming along nicely. It is good to know that even without picking up a brush in roughly twenty years, he hasn’t lost his touch.

It is sloppy, as he studies the painting. The room is darker, and the sky outside has turned to a twilight color. He doesn’t need Caleb’s timekeeping to know that this color will soon fade, and the night sky will be coming out very soon.

He thinks it is a bit unrefined, but that is what he intended for this piece. It isn’t a bad thought as it crosses through his mind. He can already spot many areas where he could sharpen the angles, as well as blend the colors together to soften certain parts. While there are less practiced strokes on the canvas, there are plenty of well placed strokes too. He has found some sort of balance here.

The room turns darker then, and just like he had known, the night has come to greet them. A set of Dancing Lights show up.

Caleb is right next to his canvas, just a foot away. As the lights float upward, and Caleb can see the colors on the canvas, he gasps.

“Mein Gott.”

The background is done, as it was simple enough. Quite literally, it was just layering blacks with deep purples. He needed darkness to contrast the vibrancy of the rest of the piece. He traced the lightning bolt type line he had made in the beginning with a little bit of glittering white paint, to give the illusion of it being a lightning strike.

Before dinner, he had been finishing up the main part- a simple but semi realistic portrait of the Bright Queen herself. Painting her skin was a lot of work, but it paid off.

“I suppose you approve of this, then?” Essek asks him with a grin, approaching his canvas once more.

Caleb nods with a lot of enthusiasm, a grin splitting his face. “Essek, this is already amazing. It looks just like her.”

“That is good to know, because I don’t have a perfect memory like you.”

“These ripples on her face, she is bathed in light,” Caleb says breathlessly. And that is how he intended it. Her Radiance has always been painted in the Light. The contrast of the gaping darkness that encroaches upon her side, is close to a traitorous expression of art.

“I see that this has been painted almost like a mosaic,” Caleb’s eyes trace down from the Queen’s face, and cracks start to form in the once smooth portrait, and even further down, the cracks travel over the painting into broken pieces- still stuck together though.

“I need to paint the remaining pieces, the ones that are flying away into the darkness.”

“You are quite ambitious, my friend,” Caleb gives him a half hug. The arm around his shoulder stays in place, even after they hug.

The Dancing Lights do provide a bit of light, but as Essek leans into him, he studies his painting. He hasn’t even gotten to the luminescent parts yet.

“Let’s get that lantern going, shall we?”

Caleb nods, and removes his arm around Essek. The Dancing Lights follow him as he finds a lantern to light up. Once the lantern is alight, the cantrip disappears.

They fall into a steady rhythm. Essek paints, Caleb watches. Caleb yawns, Essek snickers.

Essek rolls his shoulders. He is vaguely aware of the passage of time, but he has been so engrossed in his work, he has not counted the minutes. Not that he normally does, he leaves that habit for Caleb to have.

Still, it is good to keep track of the time.

“Hey Caleb, how long has it been?”

Caleb stretches, now practically laying in the loveseat, which cannot be good for his back.

“It’s been forty eight minutes, since you started painting again.”

“Oh, I thought it would have been at least an hour.”

“Not quite there, yet.”

Essek bites his lip. As he places the palette down, he feels a burning need to ask something. It feels strange to request this now, but it has been floating around in his mind. “Caleb? Would you mind it.. If you left the room?”

A creaking sound comes from the loveseat as Caleb moves around, and then stills. His head snaps up. “You wish to be alone?”

Essek brings his hands close together, fingers intertwining. He rubs over his knuckles. “I love your company, but I hope to surprise you with the final product. So…” he flushes, but he grins at Caleb. He is met with an equally amused grin.

“I can leave you to it. Maybe I should go to sleep anyway.”

“Perhaps, old man.”

Caleb shakes his head with a peal of laughter. “Right, young man. You and your youthfulness know no bounds.”

This is a reversal of their usual banter, but Essek loves it. Even when the day comes that Caleb is indeed an old man, he will always be a young man. Any elf would say so.

Caleb gets up, and wraps his arms around Essek’s neck. Essek looks up at him with expectation.

And then, Caleb just keeps looking into Essek’s eyes. Which isn’t a bad thing at all. He loves looking into those blue eyes.

“Caleb Widogast, if you don’t kiss me right now-”

Caleb swoops down, and places a loving kiss on his forehead. He pulls back, grins, and pats his face. Essek delights in the times Caleb kisses his forehead, but damn it, he wants all the kisses. Except, it means he has to take back his remark.

“Sorry, would you prefer that I call you young man again? I can do that,” Essek smirks.

“Ja, please do.”

“You’re not even forty yet. You are quite youthful. Despite the back pain.”

And then, Caleb meets his lips. Slowly and sweetly. When the redhead leans back, a sly grin shows. Then he says, “Well.. I will leave you to your painting, old man.”

Then Caleb retreats, and starts to exit the room, despite Essek’s sputtering.

Well. That is what he gets for teasing. It is deserved.

Now alone, Essek takes a deep breath. His painting is coming along nicely, and he thinks he might actually finish it before morning.

It is relaxing. It surprises him, to be able to shut off his mind, and just live in this moment.

He doesn’t stay relaxed, because two hours later, frustration emerges.

Taking a small break, he looks at his canvas. The piece was almost complete, but he felt something was missing.

The image of the Bright Queen almost feels like a mockery. She is looking up in the portrait, but now that he has added her accessories, she does feel more real.

He wonders why he picked her of all people. And to have her perfect picture destroyed halfway- surely that says something about his psyche. He is not going to psychoanalyze his actions though, and chooses to put his mind at ease. Art doesn't always have to have a deeper meaning.

The luminescent effect he sought out has been discovered at long last. It took an incredible amount of time to do, but since there were some pastels available, it made it a bit easier. It is not a perfect replication, as the thing with luminescent paint is that it emanates light naturally, and it takes a lot of patience to get something that is painted to look like it is glowing.

And yet, the work he has put in to create the artificial luminescence makes him feel accomplished.

He continues to work, feeling nothing but pure exhilaration as he knows his piece is close to being finished.

All of his worries, deep set fears, his anxieties about the future, all of it seem to whittle away with each brushstroke on the canvas. He can almost pretend he is back home at the Dynasty, just simply working on a painting. In his imagination, he is only sixty years old, still living with the Umavi of Den Thelyss.

She never asks about his paintings, but then again, he never bothers to talk to her about them.

He is thankfully left alone, and is free as he can be, in this gilded cage of a home.

Sighing, he sets the paintbrush down. He looks down at the ground, and covers one of his hands with the other. He contemplates.

He is not sixty years old, he is one hundred and twenty five, and he is not caged by responsibility- at least, not the responsibility he once knew.

He is in Mighty Nein’s summer home in Nicodranas, bought on a whim, but has become a whimsical little addition to their number of homes.

He is home. Where he needs to be.

It is funny to think about. He is where he needs to be, and that is in this moment here, painting a silly little portrait with a silly little meaning.

When he thinks of his home again, he also recognizes that indeed, he does not want to be back home. Not in the giant home filled with half strangers and vindictive guests. Not even in his cold towers, though he misses the grandiosity, he has found a much richer treasure in the present.

Nothing could be more important to him right now, than spending time with the people who practically saved him from the frigid depths of despair.

It does not matter if he deserves it or not, but he will take the love that is given to him. He will take it in both his hands, and cherish it.

He used to never hope for much. Even in his determined study of the beacons, he never dared ‘hope’ much. He did not hope that the Dynasty would recognize his efforts for higher knowledge. He did not hope that Lelyas Kryn herself would finally tell him how much she appreciates his work. He did not hope that he could find a partner who he could actually tolerate, who shares his love and passion for magic and research.

And in the end, this is not the end for him. No matter how many times he wakes up thinking today is his last day on Exandria, he is proven wrong. Perhaps one day he will face judgement, but since he continues to live on, he must be doing something right.

While he has changed homes over the years, just like he has changed his identity more times than he can count on his fingers now, he knows he cannot do this for long. He does not want to keep hiding. He can’t run from his past.

Maybe one day.

Maybe one day, with enough time, he can return to the Dynasty and not feel like a fraud.

Maybe one day, he can come back and share new discoveries. Or maybe, one day, he will come back and find it was all for naught anyways.

For now, he will keep looking ahead.

He will be forever grateful for the Nein, without them, he wouldn't have been able to conceive such a path forward.

A strange sound snaps him out of his reverie, but he realizes quickly that the sound came from him. It is a mixture of a cry and a laugh. It bubbles out of him.

As he looks back at the Bright Queen’s portrait, an abrupt and burgeoning emotion overtakes him. He lets the tears fall free from his eyes. Only two tears trail down his cheeks, but it feels like he has lost out on an important maneuver for this chess game he plays with life.

This is only because he has not let himself feel for so long, and distancing himself from anything and anyone who tried to care about him left him cold.

The tears escape, and he lets them go free. He has changed, yes, but not everything has been warped into unrecognizable lengths.

Glancing back at the painting, he finds the missing piece. He smiles as he adds one last touch to it.

A warmth washes over him in this moment, and he hasn’t felt this happy in a long time.

Well damn. He must remember to thank Caleb for telling him to paint whatever comes from his heart. He feels lighter now, less like a burden. He feels like a person again. Someone who can exist in this world and make change.

On top of the warmth that comes from the hope he feels burning within, the happiness of enjoying a relaxing activity, he finds pride. Pride of the piece he has completed.

He should put the paints away, and cover up the canvas and go to bed. His mind buzzes with activity, and so here he is, stepping outside to take a look at the night sky.

The summer home is in a bit of a lonely part of Nicodranas, but even if they were in a busy district, Essek has no fear at the moment. If someone were to question him, honestly, he would be more curious about their curiosity, rather than be suspicious about onlookers.

Drow elves aren’t terribly common in the Menagerie Coast, but he thinks he can handle a few curious glances.

Can he be a little selfish, after these past five years? Yes. He would like to think so.

He is brought out of his stargazing when he hears a stumble from the hallway, and he goes back inside, just in time to see Caleb entering the sitting room.

“Caleb? What are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I finished painting.”

“Did you? I was going to get some tea, but I think I might just stay here,” Caleb wanders over back to where the loveseat is, and plops down. Not onto it, but in front of it.

“I think you missed the seat, love.”

“Nein. The floor is where I want to be.”

“May I join you?”

“Ja. Certainly.”

He needs to do one last thing first. Adjusting the easel a bit, he lowers the canvas down, and there it is in all its glory. He had turned the lantern off, much preferring the darkness of the room at the time. Caleb was walking practically blind.

At least the loveseat wasn’t too far away.

Even looking at it now, with his darkvision, the painting has a completely different tone. Though he is sure of the colors he used, seeing all the greys makes him feel washed out. Faded. Tired.

The easel is corrected at an angle where someone on the floor could paint, if they so wished. Defeating the entire purpose of the easel, yes, but he digresses.

Caleb’s curiosity must be a roaring flame, without looking back he can feel eyes on him. Since he can only achieve so much with his paint, there is only part of it that stands out now.

“So. I finished this.”

“Right. Can I see it, or are you going to leave me in the dark?”

Essek laughs, partially from the fading adrenaline he brought upon himself, and partially because it is a funny joke.

“You have a cantrip, you know. I am actually surprised you managed to walk all the way over here.”

“It isn’t that dark, I know I can’t see as well as you can, but I can at least make out shapes.”

Essek sits down, exhausted. He leans into Caleb, whose radiating warmth brings comfort to him. He feels arms wrap around him immediately. Gods. he could just fall asleep.

Not yet.

“Okay, but now, raise those lights. I need you to see what I created.”

A simple snap of the fingers, and Dancing Lights come back to life.

It isn’t going to be enough light, he knows. Even though the colors on the canvas spring into his view, Caleb won’t be able to see much. The room is still dimly lit.

Before he really knows he is doing it, he lifts his own hand and snaps a little, and four more Dancing Lights rise.

“Wait- you know it?” Caleb leans a little to stare at him.

He smirks. “We are taught it very early on. It is believed with our allegiance to the Luxon, the Light, that it has created a boon for us. Some are lucky enough to be born with the ability to do it on command.”

Caleb’s mouth drops open. “I assume you did not have this since birth?”

“No. I was not fortunate enough. It was pretty easy to learn it though. My first spell, in fact. All at the prime age of five.”

“Five? In elf years?”

“Indeed.”

Caleb goes in for a kiss. Essek accepts it. When he sees Caleb’s face again, there is a sly grin plastered on him.

“Caleb.”

“Ja?”

“Will you look at my painting?”

“I was planning to do so... But I was hoping you were going to properly present it,” Caleb keeps looking at him.

“Am I not? Whatever. I appreciate you distracting yourself so you don’t get spoiled, but listen. It is going to be inconvenient to hold these Lights up, so close your eyes.”

Caleb obeys. Essek sighs as he dismisses the Lights, and begrudgingly, forces himself up from the cuddle.

It is ridiculous to do this now, at probably what, three or four in the morning at this point? Truthfully, they are both insomniacs sometimes. And now is when he will admit that they are relaxing. On vacation. Having fun. Like they should.

The night is youthful, forever eternal. That was a popular saying in Rosohna.

Yes, he wants to go to bed and just lay there to finally slip into a state of sleep, but Caleb has chosen to stay up.

Essek himself is caught in that headspace one gets in when they’ve experienced a lot of emotions- after many years of lying and hiding from them. Turns out, when you’re letting yourself feel everything all at once, it can really wire you up.

Trying to also feel the positive emotions that overtake him sometimes, without feeling guilty, is also a new thing he is dealing with.

He takes the lantern he had put away, and lights it up again. A quick glance to Caleb amuses him as the man lays there perfectly still, eyes closed. His breathing is not steady, so he has not fallen asleep.

“Get ready, it’s going to get bright in here.”

It makes his eyes sting, but he blinks the tears away.

“Should I still have my eyes closed?” Caleb asks as he has shielded his eye from the light, burying his head into both of his hands. He’s curled up into a ball.

“Yes. Keep them closed.”

Caleb nods. “Maybe we should just wait for tomorrow, the sun will rise again-”

It is what he was just thinking about. How ridiculous it is that they could just wait after they sleep. They would be fully rested by the next day and have fresh eyes.

Where is the fun in that?

Never before has he stayed up with such reverence for the simple pleasures in life, and now he knows he needs more. He doesn’t have all the time in the world, despite his mastery of its flow.

He aches for these precious moments, and he will take every second he can get, and make the most of it. Selfishness is okay in small doses. He cannot deny an integral part of his nature anyway.

Essek looks at his painting once more, now fully illuminated and glowing with color. As a piece made for fun, it is still an obvious study of facial features as well as color schemes, but he can always branch out in the future.

He has a lot to learn it would seem.

“We have come this far, let us enjoy it,” Essek pats Caleb’s hands as a signal.

Caleb unveils his eyes, and Essek watches his face intensely.

“Essek. That is amazing.”

On the upper half, he has painted a portrait of the Bright Queen, except, she is not all polished. It has been made to look as if she is holding out her hand, and now a hole exists above where her hand is. Where a beacon would be. Creating a spider web of cracks, jagged lines form in her skin, and travel down.

On the lower half, the cracks get wider and longer, and pieces of the portrait are broken into smaller pieces, creating the illusion of a stained glass window breaking apart.

“I’m not sure exactly what it is supposed to represent. I had a lot of ideas floating around, and I kind of just threw them all together,” Essek practically breathes out his sentence, as he talks so fast.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. It could mean everything too,” Caleb places a kiss on his forehead, and Essek melts.

He is tired. Completely worn out not just from the physical activity, but most likely the mental activity as well. He had no idea art could be like this.

“What do you make of it?” Essek asks, because he might as well get a second opinion on it, despite being close to checking out. He leans into Caleb even more, and Caleb holds him quite comfortably. His eyes fall shut, but he forces his ears to stay attentive.

“I sense that this is someone who is important, who cares about their appearance and status,”

“That is an understatement. This is the-”

“It is the Bright Queen, yes, but it could be someone else, could it not?”

“Art has many interpretations of course, but I did clearly design it to be the Bright Queen.”

“Maybe you should look at it again.”

Essek opens his eyes again. He squints at the painting to see what Caleb is referring to.

“Huh. I did paint her more ambiguous than I thought.”

“Ja. At first glance, she looks like she could be any drow. The face is masculine and feminine, and the cracks and the lighting disfigure her just a bit. You mentioned before that this is probably close to sacrilege, after all, you are depicting the Queen in a perilous state.”

“Alright… anything else?”

“Well, with these cracks.. I may think that she has had something traumatic happen recently, and her image of herself is now broken. Or maybe this is a reference to the many lives the Kryn live?”

Now that is a curious thought. He hadn’t really thought about consecution during this session, but now that it has been brought up, it makes him wonder about Leylas. She had been through many lives by the time he became Shadowhand, and he can tell she has gotten reckless in just the little over a century he has been alive.

Essek recalls the rumors in the courts, whispers about how the Bright Queen had been acting strangely as of late. They were soon quelled, but it did not matter. When words are muttered they spread across the Dynasty, like spiders on webs.

This painting could be seen as sacrilegious for a completely different reason than Caleb realizes. It makes Essek feel better, when he thinks about it.

“I did take your advice, you know. I uh.. Painted what was from my heart. Does that change your opinion on this painting?”

“Not really. The intent is known, but I don’t know what you were thinking about during the last several hours.”

Essek slowly nods. All of his thought process was a mess, but it was a relief to finally be able to put it all out and use it for something. Something that wasn’t so pitiful.

“I thought of home,” the truth can be blindingly brutal sometimes.

Caleb is quiet for a little bit, but his lips purse in thought.

Before Caleb can comment on his exposed heart, Essek also tells him, “I was heavily inspired by your stained glass, as you can probably tell.”

“Thank Mollymauk for that one. Also, the Chantry of the Dawn. That is where I got those pieces originally.”

“You never did tell me the story behind the components. I have gathered bits of it, but..”

So Caleb tells him all about it. How the planning began, how it developed over the course of months, and it is all so incredible to hear about.

“I know you said you are not an artist, but goodness Caleb. You would be able to make a masterpiece, I am sure of it. You have the patience for it.”

“I am not sure I have the patience for painting.”

Essek sighs in defeat. He pokes Caleb’s cheek. “One of these days, I will get you to paint with me. I’m sure you can do it.”

A laugh rings out, from Caleb. They share lazy kisses.

They stay silent for a while, enjoying the physical contact that they have placed themselves in. Essek peers at the wall behind the canvas, and a smile grows on his face.

“Do you have a name for it?” Caleb’s question pierces his thoughts, just as he was about to ask about retiring for the night.

Essek sits up a bit, moving away from Caleb as he stretches. The day’s exhaustion is now settling in his very bones. “We should call it a night.”

“What?”

“I’m saying we should go to bed…” Essek frowns. Did he get the Common phrase wrong?

“That is a unique title.”

“A title? Oh. No. I.. I meant that we should retire to bed, darling. I cannot think anymore, and no, I don’t have a title for it.”

Caleb leans in, red faced and blue eyes shimmering with amusement. “Alright. We should go to bed, I have missed you,” Caleb’s face is so close to his now, he can’t resist the pull. The kiss is fast, leaving him wanting more. When he tries to chase Caleb’s lips though, Caleb backs away. “I must be honest, I kind of don’t want to get up,” he leans against the loveseat with a sigh.

Essek drapes himself over Caleb’s legs.

“Young man, I have lived much longer than you. I can tell you with confidence that you will regret this. Hm. As long as we don’t stay here for too long, maybe it will be fine.”

“Did you enjoy yourself today?”

Essek is looking down at the floor, too tired to really flip over to look at Caleb. He nods his head.

He feels fingers in his hair, and it feels just right. The warm fingers combing through his locks makes him feel content.

“Good. Maybe...maybe one day I will paint with you. Can you teach me a few things?”

This makes Essek’s head lift a bit, and Caleb stops petting his hair. “I would love to.”

Caleb’s smile is so bright, and Essek can’t help but stare at it.

“You are a good teacher,” Caleb says. Essek knows he’s probably the best Caleb’s had, which- the bar is low- but still. He will take the compliment. It does mean a lot.

“You are a good student,” Essek confesses. The best one he has ever had.

They never have really talked about their lessons from the Nein’s brief stint in Rosohna. They’ve been swept up in other matters, but there is plenty of time now. To look back, and to look forward.

He decides now, he is not going to ache when he thinks of his hometown.

One day, he will tell Caleb about going back to the Dynasty. He knows he could pull it off, somehow. Maybe it is just the spite in him that wants to return and show off to everyone, but by the gods, he does have a burning desire. Hope is a dangerous thing to feel.

He is thinking too much right now, his emotions are all over the place, and it is late for both of them. Essek sits in Caleb’s lap once more, and they continue to cuddle. Eventually they will get up, but sometimes you just have to cozy up on the floor.

Essek feels his body grow tired, but he wakes up as he hears Caleb’s voice saying, “You know, if Jester were here…”

“Yeah. She is totally going to flip out when she visits again.”

“Are you going to hang it up?”

“Oh yes. I think this particular wall is quite barren,” he lazily points to the least decorated wall, indeed having lots of space for lots of wall décor. “In fact, I think I might just paint on the walls next time.”

Caleb smiles so affectionately, and gazes at Essek. “I think that is a very good idea.”

Essek sighs wistfully. It is a good idea.

He did not expect to be so inspired after this, but now that he has broken some sort of dam within, everything is just pouring out of him. It feels strange. It also feels bad.

It also feels good.

With time, the wizards do get up, and finally clean up Essek’s space. The canvas is set down carefully onto the floor. Good thing there are no pets around, or else that could be a recipe for disaster.

Then again, if a certain tiefling or two end up surprising them with a visit the next day, well. That is another way to spell chaos.

He looks forward to that potential chaos, as much as he looks forward to getting some more paint.

They’re going to need a lot of paint.