[ Caleb's hands haven't stopped shaking since Lorenzo and his team rode away.He remembers them being steady under worse circumstances, when his actions were guided by Trent Ikithon's cool voice. They hadn't been shaking when Caleb set flame to traitors and tortured spies, but they're shaking now as he works his way through a muddle of a spell that he only knows from half-memory and whispers.
He is no cleric. He is a destroyer, not a healer. He isn't like Jester, favored by something holy. But he is the only caster left and he has to try. He has to try something. If he fails, then they will all try something more dangerous and more desperate. Keg is pale and shaken, but she admits in reluctant whispers about Shady Creek Run's temple, about the kind of price they'd have to pay since they didn't have the gold between them.
It all comes back to blood anyway, Caleb thinks, as he slashes his palms open in the dark. The drips and drabs of his blood join the stains spread across Molly's chest, along with the sprinkling of gold dust and the crushed herbs Beau and Nott had painstakingly collected in the fading light. Blood is all Caleb can truly offer, and he thinks what's left of their little group would have spilled far more than anything Caleb's palms could produce to bring Molly back. They have lost enough. None of them want—
Well, it doesn't matter now. This ritual will work or it won't. Caleb doesn't know how to pray to the Moonweaver, but he thinks if any deity is willing to favor Molly it would be the one he worshiped. So Caleb kneels at Molly's head, takes his face in two bloody palms, and whispers all the old words he remembers from before.
He is not so powerful as he once was. He cannot know whether or not this will work, or if he will need to ask Beauregard to come and help him lift Molly back onto the back of their horse to be lashed into place before they go to barter something more than what Caleb is promising now to a goddess he knows painfully little about.
Please, come back. ]
guess who is caught up at long last and can tag this HELL
[ Part of Mollymauk knew, as he leapt across the cart, he wasn't going to survive this. As his swords sliced through Lorenzo's flesh, staining nearby rocks with his blood. Part of him knew and didn't care. The bastard took three of their own, the bastard took Yasha, planned on hurting her, breaking her, and selling her like a piece of meat at market. Fjord and Jester too.
It was that fury that pushed him, drove him, red eyes marking tattooed skin surging with a power he barely understood. He knew, but Molly didn't quite expect to make his grave a second time. It felt as though he had been affected by Caleb's spell, strength leaving his fingertips, swords clattering to the frost stained ground. That was it, the end of Mollymauk Tealeaf, felled by his own idiocy and the blade a bloody bastard.
Respect my ass.
That should have been the end of it, tale done and over, but when has the gods ever let him rest in piece. It starts with whispers. Distant, desperate whispers. Molly tries to ignore them, block them out, but they sink hooks into his sink and pull. Pain comes next, starting from the middle of his chest and spreading like wildfire. The whispers get louder, louder, vibrating in his skull so loudly his teeth ache. Red eyes ooze blood, mixing in with Caleb's, with the slowly drying blood spread across his chest. Ooze and ache in a way worse than the blow that killed him, worse than the old words whispered by a desperate man.
Mollymauk does not wake with a gasp but with a scream, torn from his lungs as red eyes snap open wide. Hands fly out grasping desperately at the wizard's sleeves, trembling as he blindly finds purchase. He doesn't see Caleb, not at first, vision a blurry mess of shapes and darkness. Somewhere amongst it is his friend, bloody hands pressed against lavender skin, promising the unthinkable to higher powers. ]
Wha...?
[ His breathing comes heavy, labored, almost raspy. Gods, everything hurts. His chest, his hand, his shoulder, and his damned back. Almost of Lorenzo decided to run the carts over his body after killing him for good measure. ]
Caleb? [ Fingers curl tighter amongst the wizard's sleeves. ] What the hell is going on?
[ Most of the time, Caleb's magic drains from him slowly. Spells for him are like rivulets of water leaving a pool. There had been a time when the pool had been an ocean. Trent Ikithon had showed him how to widen and dig out the edges, how to make himself strong enough to contain limitless depths. When Caleb broke, the pool shrunk. When he'd knelt and cupped Molly's face in bloody hands, he'd wondered if he had enough to give. Would the spell fail because Caleb was too weak, even with the blood? Even with the haphazard appeal to a god he knows so little about?
For a minute, he thinks he must have failed. The spell sparks and gutters, like a match trying to catch in a gale-storm. It isn't working, until suddenly, it is.
This is no trickle. It isn't even a steady flame. The spell catches hold and tears; Caleb cries out in shocked pain as Molly twitches in his grip. There's a great and terrible ripping within him as blood run freely from his palms to mingle with the fresh-flowing tears from Molly's eyes. His breath comes in sharp, labored pants as his shoulders hunch. It feels important to keep hold of Molly. Until Molly screams, Caleb isn't certain the spell is working, just that something very old is bearing down on him and working its will. All that can be done is to keep speaking into the blinding agony.
He should have known it would be like this. Birth is pain. Surely that would be the price paid for any return.
As Molly's scream dulls to a rasping, gasping breaths, Caleb's back bows further. Molly is breathing. His hands clutch Caleb's sleeves. A miracle, Caleb thinks, reeling at how he's been granted another in his short lifetime. ]
I...
[ How is Caleb supposed to explain? ]
It is good to see you.
[ Relief is almost crippling. Caleb's eyes are wet. This moment is surreal; he feels almost giddy over it even as exhaustion and weakness sink into his very bones. His hands don't leave Molly's face.
Is this how it will feel when he bends reality beneath his hands? It's hard to imagine anything beyond this moment, and the incredible miracle of having snatched their friend back from death. ]
[ Molly doesn't remember dying the first time, barely remembers coming back to life buried underneath the dirt. For a moment there, in the half lucid thoughts of a barely alive man, he fears he has to do it again, fears Caleb being little more than a trick and his lungs will start to burn with lack of air. But the moment passes and his fingers curl more into the wizard's sleeves, blood warm and sticky against his face.
He looks terrible, Molly notes weakly, heart hammering in his chest as his entire body aches. System in a state of shock from the spell, dragged rather and coaxed back to life. He blinks, eyes still wet with tears but bright instead of dull and lifeless, staring up at Caleb at the relief on his face. The wetness in his eyes.
Caleb. ]
Course it is. [ What did he do? Molly was certain he was dead, but he isn't. He's breathing again, living again. A hand uncurls from around Caleb's sleeve, reaching up to cup the side of his face. ] I'm bloody handsome.
[ The attempt at humor is ruined by the state of his voice, breathless and raw, but he'll be damn if he doesn't try. Frankly Molly isn't sure what else to do, his head spins with questions he isn't sure he wants to answers for. But they sit there, gnawing away. ]
Is Beau.. [ Fingers ghost across Caleb's cheek, arm trembling from trying to keep it up there with what little strength he has. ] Is everyone okay?
[ If that bastard got any more of them─ gods, he doesn't know what he'd do. ]
[ The price is settled and paid. Caleb doesn't know what Beau would have given or what Nott would have offered, but he knows it's better to have bartered only himself. And it seems to have gone well enough. Molly is alive, speaking and breathing again, skin warming under Caleb's slashed-ragged palms. ]
Try not to move. I have—there's a potion left.
[ All the magic Caleb ever learned was rooted in destruction. Trent Ikithon taught him to unravel a man. He taught Caleb how to use pain to break a mind apart. He never taught him how to knit a man back together when he was done. There had never been a need. Even now, Caleb think that kind of magic would come apart in his hands. He is not made to be a balm to anyone's suffering.
When Molly's hand finds his face, he's aware of his own exhaustion. He will have to get Molly back to camp, but not just yet. Gently, he smooths the hair back off Molly's forehead, trying his best not to leave traces of blood in his wake. ]
You're alright.
[ Caleb's voice dips. It's unclear if he's reassuring Molly or reminding himself of that fact. ]
[ Relief washes over Molly like a wave. They will be better now. They're alright. Lorenzo didn't hurt them, didn't take anymore of his friends. He breathes out, sinking further into the dirt, lips forming a tired smile. ]
Think I'm comfortable enough here.
[ It'd be nice if he could just lay here in the dark, flecks of snow drifting down from the dark clouds hovering in the sky. Nature won't let him, of course, and the warmth from Caleb's closeness can only do so much. Still, Molly doesn't fight and keeps still, hand falling down to rest on his blood soaked chest.
Wait...
Caleb's hand smooths his hair and he reaches out again, fingers wrapping at a pale wrist. Blood. It's all he can smell, from himself, from Caleb. His brow furrows, fingers moving to touch the still fresh wound. Blood. It's always what it comes down to with him. Was that the price he paid? His own blood to drag Molly back from the very depths of Hell. ]
[ They'll need to do something for shelter. And they'll need to do something to track their friends. Caleb will send Frumpkin, but he can't afford to leave his body until Molly's lifted out of the dirt entirely. His thoughts stray briefly to Molly's ridiculous tapestry. Perhaps that would be the best bet they had for keeping warm, because Caleb thought it unwise to start traveling until Molly's had at least a few hours to recover.
Practical, if panicky, considerations break as Molly's fingers catch at his wrist, glance along the ragged gash on his palm. But that's still not Caleb's first thought when Molly asks if he's alright. He'd been so far out of range for most of the fighting. He'd been too far to do anything at all as Lorenzo had plunged the glaive down into Molly's chest. ]
Ja. Nothing touched me. [ His voice is shaky. ] That's how it goes sometimes, when you stand at least twenty feet back.
[ It's another reason why it should be Caleb paying the price of this miracle. He had been so far out of danger. He had been so close to leaving before it ever began. Blood and discomfort and the weight of promised favor to a goddess were small prices to pay considering how close he'd come to leaving them all in the lurch. ]
[ There isn't much time for rest, is there? Lorenzo still has their friends and each moment they wait the further he gets away. A part of him thinks to try and stand, brush off his miracle resurrection and press forward. Stupid idea, even Molly knows that. His limbs feel heavy, bones ache, he probably couldn't move from here even if he tried. Moving isn't the wisest idea.
Not that Molly is thinking of himself at the moment, blood smearing across his fingers. Nothing touched him, huh? Of course, Caleb has always tended to keep a distance during a fight. But it isn't what he mean and Molly's brow furrows slightly. What did he do? ]
Good, good. [ He starts, grip loosing. ] Wouldn't want anything to mar that pretty face of yours.
[ A little flippant, a little distant. It worries him what price was paid, what promises were made, how did Caleb bring him back? Why are his hand sliced open? ]
[ Even in their present situation, Molly's casual flirtation has an effect. Caleb, having spent the better part of a day uncertain whether or not he would ever hear it again, has to swallow an almost hysterical burst of laughter. Every passing moment is further reassurance that Molly isn't about to suddenly slip away again. Caleb wants to bend forward, press his forehead to Molly's and fumble his way through breathless thanks for this minor miracle.
Instead, he lets one hand drift slowly to Molly's shoulder, thumb resting on his collarbone. He can feel the rise and fall of Molly's chest as he breathes. The ugly injury there is knitted together; Molly's scars have settled back as if they had never been disturbed. Caleb wants to put his hand there, but there's enough blood already without the addition of his own palm prints. ]
They got away, [ Caleb tells him, trying to head off the question that follows. ] But we know where they're going.
[ And Caleb is going to kill them.
He has told no one this. It is an unspoken assumption. But there is a difference between the heat of battle and what Caleb has made up his mind to do. They will take back their friends from these people, and then Caleb will go to work on them. Payment in kind. ]
Does anything still hurt?
[ Their last potion. Their only potion, scrounged from the detritus of the fight. Caleb suspects it fell from a torn pocket, but it doesn't matter. It'll do the trick now that there's life in Molly's body again. ]
[ It's odd, he thinks, he didn't think Caleb could laugh. Too much sadness sits in his chest and upon his shoulders, that the sound surprises him for a moment. It's odd, but much more pleasant than the sound of his heart thundering inside his chest.
The adrenaline seeps from his limbs, but Molly's mind still races, thoughts firing off in rapid succession. He had accepted it, you know, as Lorenzo's blade had pierced his chest. The bastard wasn't looking at Beau anymore, if his death got them the opening they needed - the chance to either kill Lorenzo or get back their friends - he didn't mind dying. Well, no, Molly minded, but it made things a little easier to swallow. He didn't want anyone to sacrifice anything for him, to save him, or bring his ass back to life (as nice of an ass as it is) and he can't help but think about the terrible price Caleb must have paid for his life.
Molly won't let that price consume him, no matter what. ]
We should get after them then.
[ Mollymauk, after all, has some repayments to make. Those of the bloody and vicious kind. Not only for their lost friends, for himself, and whatever danger Caleb put himself in for his sake.
A weak laugh passes the tiefling's lips, his hand dropping to rest on top of Caleb's. Does anything still hurt? Ha. He thinks for a moment of lying, of saying he is as fit as a fiddle. But even Molly wouldn't be able to believe that lie. ]
Only everything, Mister Caleb. [ His soul, after all, was just ripped back from where ever the dead go and placed back in his broken, bleeding body. Still he manages a smile, propping up one leg. ] Don't worry, I'll be fine.
[ Exhaustion is creeping in, making itself known as Molly smiles up at him from his lap. Caleb is seized with a terrible awareness of how fragile this moment is. How easy had it been for Lorenzo to snuff Molly out? No more effort than blowing out a candle. All that blood, all those tears, and it would be such a thin bulwark against the violence of the world.
The moments when Caleb wants to protect these people are so difficult to weather. He is aware of his own shortcomings. He is aware of his defects and his selfishness. He is just as liable to run away as he is to stand and fight. His fingers card gently through Molly's hand. ]
I know.
[ Caleb will make it so. He's already sliced into his skin to buy Molly back. Perhaps whatever gods were observing will grant them some sort of favor because of it.
Slowly, Caleb becomes aware of a line of connection. He'd felt it open and ignored it. He feels it now as Molly's hand settles over his, as Molly shifts and tests his body and pain sparks between them. That isn't Caleb's to feel, and yet— ]
Come. I'll help you sit up, and you can drink this.
[ Whatever Caleb does or doesn't feel will have to be puzzled over later. Is this the price? Is this how he keeps Molly alive, by linking their very souls together? He needs to wrap his own palms back up, but he fumbles to help Molly into a sitting position first, watching every single wince and hitch to feel them mirrored in his own body. ]
[ He can feel it, exhaustion bleeding through Caleb into Mollymauk. Heaviness that seeps through his limbs that plead to stop, to just rest for a moment. They can't, but he wants to so desperately stay like this, close his eyes and rest his head against Caleb's lap. He's much warmer than Molly right now.
But their friends are counting on them.
Molly breathes in sharp, uncurling his hand from Caleb as the other helps him up. Each movement is stiff, painful, he winces despite himself, teeth gritting together as they fumble their way into sitting him up. It's terrible. Molly decides quickly that movement is in fact something he doesn't need to be doing anytime soon. He feels more exhausted than when he started, nerves sending flares of pain through his limbs like rapid shocks of a lightning spell. He groans, leaning most of his weight against Caleb's thin frame. ]
Isn't that...?
[ The last of their potions. Molly reaches, tries to, but his arm ends up resting upon his knee instead. Protests start to form in the back of his head, thoughts of telling Caleb to save it for when they catch up with those assholes. They get as far as the expression on Caleb's face, the smear of blood against the glass of the bottle. He'll worry if Molly doesn't, that's not something he wants to be doing right now. Caleb's worried enough over him, given enough. ]
I may need some assistance, my arms don't seem to have their strength back just yet.
[ Molly lifts the one on his knee as demonstration, lifting it all of a few centimeters before it falls back down. He doesn't dare the other, propping him up as to not have all of his weight come crushing down against Caleb. ]
[ Molly will need to sleep. (Caleb will need to sleep.) They will have time for that. They've lost any chance at surprising their quarry. Now they will need to be very smart. In the back of his head, where he had put everything that wasn't this spell and the task of dragging Molly back from beyond the veil, there lives a cold, vengeful, calculating urge towards revenge.
Yes, they will get their friends back. But Caleb also wants to burn the ones who took them in the first place, and the man who nearly claimed a fourth traveling companion.
His fingers find Molly's face, linger briefly on his jaw before he grips Molly's shoulders and begins levering him up. His palms flare up in pain, mingling with second-hand exhaustion and the sensation of a phantom thread stringing them together. That's something to worry about later. Something he can read on when they are back in Zadash and far from this. Clumsily, he props Molly up, braces him with one sticky palm against his back. ]
It will be easier after you've slept. There is food back at our camp. [ And firblog, who drifted out of the bushes as if their tragedy had summoned her. ] You'll feel like yourself again soon.
[ Maybe. Caleb had taken a risk with this spell, and it had burned something out of him in the process. The side effects are all a bit beyond his understanding. ]
You will be okay.
[ But still, Caleb speaks this into the air. He has bent the world between his hands to bring Molly back to them. Surely this one last reassurance can be granted as well. ]
[ In truth, Molly isn't sure he ever will feel like himself. Not completely. Something changed in the ritual, something found it's way around his soul and sunk in deep when Caleb pulled him back from the abyss. He can feel it, faintly, like a thread wrapped around him, between the aches of his limbs and the exhaustion that tries to sap what little strength Caleb's spell gifted him.
Regardless Mollymauk smiles, leaning a little into Caleb, drawing on his warmth. ]
I'm sure I will, Mr. Caleb.
[ Maybe, maybe not. Still, Molly wants to assure him as much as he can, deciding against voicing any of his concerns. Who knows, maybe Caleb's right and all he needs is to sleep to feel good as new, like himself again. Either way they need to rest if they want to go after the others and kill the bastards who took them. ]
You'll stay with me, right? [ It takes a moment before he can walk without his knees buckling from underneath him. When he does Mollymauk keeps close to Caleb just in case they decide to betray him. ] I think I'll rest easier with you there.
[ Putting his arm beneath Molly, taking his weight, Caleb can almost fool himself that they're stumbling back from some innocuous scrape. Not from the aftermath of Caleb bending reality around them, wrenching Molly's soul back from the grasp of a diety far stronger than he could ever hope to be.
Perhaps the tangible sense of connection between them is punishment for that. Perhaps it's simply because he'd made a mistake. Either way, he has Molly back and they can continue chasing their friends. His fingers slot along Molly's ribs, holding him tightly. He feels steadier, even knowing he has done something incredibly dangerous without full knowledge of the consequences. ]
Yes, [ Caleb promises, suspecting that any other answer may no longer be possible for him. ] Yes, I will stay. All of us will be with you.
[ And inevitably, after they've returned and tears have been shed and they all lie down to sleep, Caleb will be settled in beside Molly. ]
[ There is a comfort in that, relief that fills Molly's chest and lets him breathe a little easier. He allows Caleb to take some of his weight, a blood soaked hand resting just on top of Caleb's as they stumble back to the others. ]
Good, good. [ Sleep will come easier with Caleb nearby, with the others close. That way he needn't think of the ramifications of Caleb's spell, or the thread that dangles between them, or anything. ] It'll be just like the first nights we spent together. One big pile of assholes.
[ Exhaustion seeps further and further into him as they get closer to the camp. By the time they arrive Molly can barely keep his eyes open, even though the tearful reunions. He remembers a brief exchange of 'fuck you's at Beau, the guilty look from Keg, hushed questions thrown at Caleb, before finding Jester's pack to rest his head upon. It takes mere moments for sleep to find him, waking only briefly when the others join and Caleb settles in beside him.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
i'M BACK / i want a hecked up resurrection ritual/cheating molly from the brink of death w. magic
ok i made a starter too i got this.
He is no cleric. He is a destroyer, not a healer. He isn't like Jester, favored by something holy. But he is the only caster left and he has to try. He has to try something. If he fails, then they will all try something more dangerous and more desperate. Keg is pale and shaken, but she admits in reluctant whispers about Shady Creek Run's temple, about the kind of price they'd have to pay since they didn't have the gold between them.
It all comes back to blood anyway, Caleb thinks, as he slashes his palms open in the dark. The drips and drabs of his blood join the stains spread across Molly's chest, along with the sprinkling of gold dust and the crushed herbs Beau and Nott had painstakingly collected in the fading light. Blood is all Caleb can truly offer, and he thinks what's left of their little group would have spilled far more than anything Caleb's palms could produce to bring Molly back. They have lost enough. None of them want—
Well, it doesn't matter now. This ritual will work or it won't. Caleb doesn't know how to pray to the Moonweaver, but he thinks if any deity is willing to favor Molly it would be the one he worshiped. So Caleb kneels at Molly's head, takes his face in two bloody palms, and whispers all the old words he remembers from before.
He is not so powerful as he once was. He cannot know whether or not this will work, or if he will need to ask Beauregard to come and help him lift Molly back onto the back of their horse to be lashed into place before they go to barter something more than what Caleb is promising now to a goddess he knows painfully little about.
Please, come back. ]
guess who is caught up at long last and can tag this HELL
It was that fury that pushed him, drove him, red eyes marking tattooed skin surging with a power he barely understood. He knew, but Molly didn't quite expect to make his grave a second time. It felt as though he had been affected by Caleb's spell, strength leaving his fingertips, swords clattering to the frost stained ground. That was it, the end of Mollymauk Tealeaf, felled by his own idiocy and the blade a bloody bastard.
Respect my ass.
That should have been the end of it, tale done and over, but when has the gods ever let him rest in piece. It starts with whispers. Distant, desperate whispers. Molly tries to ignore them, block them out, but they sink hooks into his sink and pull. Pain comes next, starting from the middle of his chest and spreading like wildfire. The whispers get louder, louder, vibrating in his skull so loudly his teeth ache. Red eyes ooze blood, mixing in with Caleb's, with the slowly drying blood spread across his chest. Ooze and ache in a way worse than the blow that killed him, worse than the old words whispered by a desperate man.
Mollymauk does not wake with a gasp but with a scream, torn from his lungs as red eyes snap open wide. Hands fly out grasping desperately at the wizard's sleeves, trembling as he blindly finds purchase. He doesn't see Caleb, not at first, vision a blurry mess of shapes and darkness. Somewhere amongst it is his friend, bloody hands pressed against lavender skin, promising the unthinkable to higher powers. ]
Wha...?
[ His breathing comes heavy, labored, almost raspy. Gods, everything hurts. His chest, his hand, his shoulder, and his damned back. Almost of Lorenzo decided to run the carts over his body after killing him for good measure. ]
Caleb? [ Fingers curl tighter amongst the wizard's sleeves. ] What the hell is going on?
[ What did you do? ]
i regret instigating this.
For a minute, he thinks he must have failed. The spell sparks and gutters, like a match trying to catch in a gale-storm. It isn't working, until suddenly, it is.
This is no trickle. It isn't even a steady flame. The spell catches hold and tears; Caleb cries out in shocked pain as Molly twitches in his grip. There's a great and terrible ripping within him as blood run freely from his palms to mingle with the fresh-flowing tears from Molly's eyes. His breath comes in sharp, labored pants as his shoulders hunch. It feels important to keep hold of Molly. Until Molly screams, Caleb isn't certain the spell is working, just that something very old is bearing down on him and working its will. All that can be done is to keep speaking into the blinding agony.
He should have known it would be like this. Birth is pain. Surely that would be the price paid for any return.
As Molly's scream dulls to a rasping, gasping breaths, Caleb's back bows further. Molly is breathing. His hands clutch Caleb's sleeves. A miracle, Caleb thinks, reeling at how he's been granted another in his short lifetime. ]
I...
[ How is Caleb supposed to explain? ]
It is good to see you.
[ Relief is almost crippling. Caleb's eyes are wet. This moment is surreal; he feels almost giddy over it even as exhaustion and weakness sink into his very bones. His hands don't leave Molly's face.
Is this how it will feel when he bends reality beneath his hands? It's hard to imagine anything beyond this moment, and the incredible miracle of having snatched their friend back from death. ]
i regret nothing and everything.
He looks terrible, Molly notes weakly, heart hammering in his chest as his entire body aches. System in a state of shock from the spell, dragged rather and coaxed back to life. He blinks, eyes still wet with tears but bright instead of dull and lifeless, staring up at Caleb at the relief on his face. The wetness in his eyes.
Caleb. ]
Course it is. [ What did he do? Molly was certain he was dead, but he isn't. He's breathing again, living again. A hand uncurls from around Caleb's sleeve, reaching up to cup the side of his face. ] I'm bloody handsome.
[ The attempt at humor is ruined by the state of his voice, breathless and raw, but he'll be damn if he doesn't try. Frankly Molly isn't sure what else to do, his head spins with questions he isn't sure he wants to answers for. But they sit there, gnawing away. ]
Is Beau.. [ Fingers ghost across Caleb's cheek, arm trembling from trying to keep it up there with what little strength he has. ] Is everyone okay?
[ If that bastard got any more of them─ gods, he doesn't know what he'd do. ]
no subject
[ The price is settled and paid. Caleb doesn't know what Beau would have given or what Nott would have offered, but he knows it's better to have bartered only himself. And it seems to have gone well enough. Molly is alive, speaking and breathing again, skin warming under Caleb's slashed-ragged palms. ]
Try not to move. I have—there's a potion left.
[ All the magic Caleb ever learned was rooted in destruction. Trent Ikithon taught him to unravel a man. He taught Caleb how to use pain to break a mind apart. He never taught him how to knit a man back together when he was done. There had never been a need. Even now, Caleb think that kind of magic would come apart in his hands. He is not made to be a balm to anyone's suffering.
When Molly's hand finds his face, he's aware of his own exhaustion. He will have to get Molly back to camp, but not just yet. Gently, he smooths the hair back off Molly's forehead, trying his best not to leave traces of blood in his wake. ]
You're alright.
[ Caleb's voice dips. It's unclear if he's reassuring Molly or reminding himself of that fact. ]
no subject
Think I'm comfortable enough here.
[ It'd be nice if he could just lay here in the dark, flecks of snow drifting down from the dark clouds hovering in the sky. Nature won't let him, of course, and the warmth from Caleb's closeness can only do so much. Still, Molly doesn't fight and keeps still, hand falling down to rest on his blood soaked chest.
Wait...
Caleb's hand smooths his hair and he reaches out again, fingers wrapping at a pale wrist. Blood. It's all he can smell, from himself, from Caleb. His brow furrows, fingers moving to touch the still fresh wound. Blood. It's always what it comes down to with him. Was that the price he paid? His own blood to drag Molly back from the very depths of Hell. ]
Are you?
no subject
Practical, if panicky, considerations break as Molly's fingers catch at his wrist, glance along the ragged gash on his palm. But that's still not Caleb's first thought when Molly asks if he's alright. He'd been so far out of range for most of the fighting. He'd been too far to do anything at all as Lorenzo had plunged the glaive down into Molly's chest. ]
Ja. Nothing touched me. [ His voice is shaky. ] That's how it goes sometimes, when you stand at least twenty feet back.
[ It's another reason why it should be Caleb paying the price of this miracle. He had been so far out of danger. He had been so close to leaving before it ever began. Blood and discomfort and the weight of promised favor to a goddess were small prices to pay considering how close he'd come to leaving them all in the lurch. ]
Do you remember what happened?
no subject
Not that Molly is thinking of himself at the moment, blood smearing across his fingers. Nothing touched him, huh? Of course, Caleb has always tended to keep a distance during a fight. But it isn't what he mean and Molly's brow furrows slightly. What did he do? ]
Good, good. [ He starts, grip loosing. ] Wouldn't want anything to mar that pretty face of yours.
[ A little flippant, a little distant. It worries him what price was paid, what promises were made, how did Caleb bring him back? Why are his hand sliced open? ]
Mmm. [ He nods. ] I was killed.
no subject
Instead, he lets one hand drift slowly to Molly's shoulder, thumb resting on his collarbone. He can feel the rise and fall of Molly's chest as he breathes. The ugly injury there is knitted together; Molly's scars have settled back as if they had never been disturbed. Caleb wants to put his hand there, but there's enough blood already without the addition of his own palm prints. ]
They got away, [ Caleb tells him, trying to head off the question that follows. ] But we know where they're going.
[ And Caleb is going to kill them.
He has told no one this. It is an unspoken assumption. But there is a difference between the heat of battle and what Caleb has made up his mind to do. They will take back their friends from these people, and then Caleb will go to work on them. Payment in kind. ]
Does anything still hurt?
[ Their last potion. Their only potion, scrounged from the detritus of the fight. Caleb suspects it fell from a torn pocket, but it doesn't matter. It'll do the trick now that there's life in Molly's body again. ]
SURPRISE, i have brought you pain.
The adrenaline seeps from his limbs, but Molly's mind still races, thoughts firing off in rapid succession. He had accepted it, you know, as Lorenzo's blade had pierced his chest. The bastard wasn't looking at Beau anymore, if his death got them the opening they needed - the chance to either kill Lorenzo or get back their friends - he didn't mind dying. Well, no, Molly minded, but it made things a little easier to swallow. He didn't want anyone to sacrifice anything for him, to save him, or bring his ass back to life (as nice of an ass as it is) and he can't help but think about the terrible price Caleb must have paid for his life.
Molly won't let that price consume him, no matter what. ]
We should get after them then.
[ Mollymauk, after all, has some repayments to make. Those of the bloody and vicious kind. Not only for their lost friends, for himself, and whatever danger Caleb put himself in for his sake.
A weak laugh passes the tiefling's lips, his hand dropping to rest on top of Caleb's. Does anything still hurt? Ha. He thinks for a moment of lying, of saying he is as fit as a fiddle. But even Molly wouldn't be able to believe that lie. ]
Only everything, Mister Caleb. [ His soul, after all, was just ripped back from where ever the dead go and placed back in his broken, bleeding body. Still he manages a smile, propping up one leg. ] Don't worry, I'll be fine.
weeps about it
The moments when Caleb wants to protect these people are so difficult to weather. He is aware of his own shortcomings. He is aware of his defects and his selfishness. He is just as liable to run away as he is to stand and fight. His fingers card gently through Molly's hand. ]
I know.
[ Caleb will make it so. He's already sliced into his skin to buy Molly back. Perhaps whatever gods were observing will grant them some sort of favor because of it.
Slowly, Caleb becomes aware of a line of connection. He'd felt it open and ignored it. He feels it now as Molly's hand settles over his, as Molly shifts and tests his body and pain sparks between them. That isn't Caleb's to feel, and yet— ]
Come. I'll help you sit up, and you can drink this.
[ Whatever Caleb does or doesn't feel will have to be puzzled over later. Is this the price? Is this how he keeps Molly alive, by linking their very souls together? He needs to wrap his own palms back up, but he fumbles to help Molly into a sitting position first, watching every single wince and hitch to feel them mirrored in his own body. ]
no subject
But their friends are counting on them.
Molly breathes in sharp, uncurling his hand from Caleb as the other helps him up. Each movement is stiff, painful, he winces despite himself, teeth gritting together as they fumble their way into sitting him up. It's terrible. Molly decides quickly that movement is in fact something he doesn't need to be doing anytime soon. He feels more exhausted than when he started, nerves sending flares of pain through his limbs like rapid shocks of a lightning spell. He groans, leaning most of his weight against Caleb's thin frame. ]
Isn't that...?
[ The last of their potions. Molly reaches, tries to, but his arm ends up resting upon his knee instead. Protests start to form in the back of his head, thoughts of telling Caleb to save it for when they catch up with those assholes. They get as far as the expression on Caleb's face, the smear of blood against the glass of the bottle. He'll worry if Molly doesn't, that's not something he wants to be doing right now. Caleb's worried enough over him, given enough. ]
I may need some assistance, my arms don't seem to have their strength back just yet.
[ Molly lifts the one on his knee as demonstration, lifting it all of a few centimeters before it falls back down. He doesn't dare the other, propping him up as to not have all of his weight come crushing down against Caleb. ]
no subject
Yes, they will get their friends back. But Caleb also wants to burn the ones who took them in the first place, and the man who nearly claimed a fourth traveling companion.
His fingers find Molly's face, linger briefly on his jaw before he grips Molly's shoulders and begins levering him up. His palms flare up in pain, mingling with second-hand exhaustion and the sensation of a phantom thread stringing them together. That's something to worry about later. Something he can read on when they are back in Zadash and far from this. Clumsily, he props Molly up, braces him with one sticky palm against his back. ]
It will be easier after you've slept. There is food back at our camp. [ And firblog, who drifted out of the bushes as if their tragedy had summoned her. ] You'll feel like yourself again soon.
[ Maybe. Caleb had taken a risk with this spell, and it had burned something out of him in the process. The side effects are all a bit beyond his understanding. ]
You will be okay.
[ But still, Caleb speaks this into the air. He has bent the world between his hands to bring Molly back to them. Surely this one last reassurance can be granted as well. ]
no subject
Regardless Mollymauk smiles, leaning a little into Caleb, drawing on his warmth. ]
I'm sure I will, Mr. Caleb.
[ Maybe, maybe not. Still, Molly wants to assure him as much as he can, deciding against voicing any of his concerns. Who knows, maybe Caleb's right and all he needs is to sleep to feel good as new, like himself again. Either way they need to rest if they want to go after the others and kill the bastards who took them. ]
You'll stay with me, right? [ It takes a moment before he can walk without his knees buckling from underneath him. When he does Mollymauk keeps close to Caleb just in case they decide to betray him. ] I think I'll rest easier with you there.
wrappin' this y/n?
Perhaps the tangible sense of connection between them is punishment for that. Perhaps it's simply because he'd made a mistake. Either way, he has Molly back and they can continue chasing their friends. His fingers slot along Molly's ribs, holding him tightly. He feels steadier, even knowing he has done something incredibly dangerous without full knowledge of the consequences. ]
Yes, [ Caleb promises, suspecting that any other answer may no longer be possible for him. ] Yes, I will stay. All of us will be with you.
[ And inevitably, after they've returned and tears have been shed and they all lie down to sleep, Caleb will be settled in beside Molly. ]
yyy
Good, good. [ Sleep will come easier with Caleb nearby, with the others close. That way he needn't think of the ramifications of Caleb's spell, or the thread that dangles between them, or anything. ] It'll be just like the first nights we spent together. One big pile of assholes.
[ Exhaustion seeps further and further into him as they get closer to the camp. By the time they arrive Molly can barely keep his eyes open, even though the tearful reunions. He remembers a brief exchange of 'fuck you's at Beau, the guilty look from Keg, hushed questions thrown at Caleb, before finding Jester's pack to rest his head upon. It takes mere moments for sleep to find him, waking only briefly when the others join and Caleb settles in beside him.
Rest. ]