[ On the road, they take the watches in shifts. With the threat of war and conscription looming, it hadn't been difficult for Molly to convince them to skip town. Caleb hadn't said very much one way or another. The urge to run is humming in his bones; it has been since Trent's presence had been made known to him. Running with the group was a bonus. Caleb had meant what he said to Beau: he wants to stay with them. He's grateful that Beau could keep a secret, and that the road doesn't leave her any time to press him further about their conversation.
Avoiding the possibility of it is what has Caleb cheating at lots when they draw straws each night to decide who takes what shift. The first night he had sat up with Nott, and the second, Jester, and now, this third night, he's watching Molly fan out his tarot cards across the silky pool of his scarf on the ground. His purpose is clear, and it's met with nothing but apprehension from Caleb. ]
I don't need my fortune told.
[ Of course, Caleb has doubts about whether or not Molly is capable of any kind of divination. But he doesn't want to take the risk. There's too many things he'd rather not be seen. ]
Here.
[ He holds out the wine skin to Molly. He's not taken a sip, though he'd agreed when Jester had needled at Fjord to purchase it. ]
[ Molly had been anxious to leave since they found the Gentleman's lair, stumbling into a past he wants nothing to do with yet found him all the same. Ever since the urge to run had been crawling underneath his skin, scratching away for every second they spent in the city. The relief he felt when they finally, finally, agreed to leave was overwhelming. The further away they get from Zadash, from the looming war, from the creeping uncertainty brought forth by Cree, the damn better.
His mood, though seemingly unchanged to the casual observers, improved incredibly since leaving. Tension melting away the further they traveled. It gave Molly a chance to pay closer attention to his companions, to the joy in Jester, the tension in Caleb, the twitch in Nott's fingers telling him the itch is back. None of his business really, any of it, but he keeps notes, mostly for the sake of keeping notes.
If only boredom was kinda enough to leave well alone.
A nimble hand fans out his cards, face down, as Caleb approaches. Red eyes watching with an almost unreadable look. He's curious, of course, about so many things about their resident wizard. A part of him would love to prod, but won't, nothing ever good comes from prodding things better left alone. ]
Nonsense, everyone needs their fortune told at least once.
[ It is more for his own amusement than anything, something to pass the time of their watch. Molly reaches up, taking the wine skin from Caleb's grip, abandoning his cards for a mere moment as he indulges his thirst. ]
[ There's nothing requiring Caleb to sit here beside Molly and watch him fuss with his cards. Caleb could serve out the rest of his turn on watch perched on the cart with his book open in his lap. It wouldn't be the first night he spent cold, transcribing with frozen fingers. But Caleb realizes that he misses company. He'd been a little starved for it, even with long months spent on the road with Nott. He likes their expanded little circle, even if he can't stop worrying over what he's told Beau.
There's a giddy relief in his chest over having finally spoken those truths aloud, but it's slowly giving way to the inevitable worry: what if Beau thinks it over, and what if she shares what she knows?
It's not wholly separate from the fan of Molly's deck between nimble fingers. What was Molly capable of picking out of thin air with the aid of a few tarot cards? Caleb watches him drink, eyes noting the lines of his throat and the gleam of jewelry from his horns before his gaze skitters away and falls to his own hands. ]
He did. [ Or Nott had said so, and Caleb trusts her judgement on all things alcohol. ] Is it bullshit? Your fortune-telling?
[ Caleb is careful with questions. He's aware that often people expect something in return for any of the things they share. It feels reckless every time he solicits information from any of the others, apart from Nott. ]
[ As far as Molly can remember he has had company, ever since digging himself from his own grave and being picked up by the circus. He doesn't want to imagine what it would be like without them, without the company of fellows, especially these ones. It's funny how much he found himself liking their company, how easily he gravitated towards them after the circus fell to pieces. A group of weirdos and broken toys.
Something he should talk to Yasha about, he muses, enjoying the sharp aftertaste of the wine, gaze flick towards Caleb. ]
Maybe, maybe not. [ Molly shrugs, flippant. Taking another quick drink from the wineskin before holding it out to Caleb, grin wide across his lavender face. ] Want to find out?
[ Caleb could just say no, resist the thread Molly hangs in front of him, and that will be the end of that. But what else are they going to do for the next few hours? There is only so much watching and listening to the surroundings one can do before boredom takes hold. ]
[ It's a little like the moments when he indulges Nott or Jester, Caleb thinks. He isn't sure if he'll enjoy having his fortune told, but he thinks Molly will enjoy telling him. Or Molly will probably enjoy making a production out of the cards and whatever outlandish things he can come up with.
Remembering Molly and Yasha tripping into that tavern a few weeks ago feels surreal now. They've gotten comfortable enough with each other that Caleb finds it hard to remember what it was like before. Maybe Nott had been like this too, a stranger until very abruptly she wasn't. It's not as troubling to Caleb as he thought it would be, though so much companionship doesn't always feel so ideal. He pulls his coat close around himself as Frumpkin catapults onto his shoulders and nestles in against his neck. ]
Let's see.
[ Uncertain about whether or not he'll regret this, Caleb decides he'd rather go along than retreat to the other side of the fire with his book. ]
[ It's telling to Molly that Caleb hasn't absconded across the camp with his books, that he stays indulging Molly's need for an audience. A few weeks ago he would have skitter away at the earliest opportunity, head buried in a book, resistant to the attention Molly gives him. It's... interesting, he thinks, gathering his cards with a single sweeping motion.
Oh, he puts on such a display, shuffling the cards with nimble fingers, as red eyes stay trained on Caleb's face. It shows how much he has done this before, the way he manipulates the cards, feeding them into each other in every different way. Once done the deck sits in Mollymauk's hand, face down, and his grin widening. ]
Let's see, let's see, what the cards have in store.
[ Molly pulls forth the first, laying it face up on the scarf before him. Lips purse together as he regards it, as though the picture on top is like to tell him the secrets of the universe. ]
Ah, the Tower. Looks like they think you have suffered a great tragedy and upheaval.
[ He's being a little dramatic, but it isn't hard to assume something terrible happened in Caleb's past. He has that look about it. ]
[ Caleb and Nott have turned their fair share of tricks. He thinks about Molly's quick, clever fingers and wonders about the possibility of Molly shifting cards to the top of the deck. Or he's just good at making things up as he goes. Caleb's hardly familiar enough with the tarot to object.
Though the first card is a bit—
It's too close to truth for Caleb to be comfortable with it. His jaw tightens, and he's very still for a moment. Is it such a stretch to confirm? Caleb knows his breaks and traumas are so very near the surface. They had all seen him in the mine, frozen in place by his own memories. The substance may be a secret (shared among two of their number) but no one would be surprised by it's existence.
Slowly, Caleb gives a jerky nod of assent. Acknowledgement of the card without any further elaboration is the best he can do. ]
What else do they think?
[ Or more honestly: what else does Molly think of him? ]
[ In truth he could be doing just that, using his quick, clever fingers to shift the cards to his liking. Molly won't confirm nor deny it either way, better to keep them guessing to unveil every single one of his tricks.
He watches Caleb's expression, the tightening of his jaw, a tell of how very right he was. It wasn't a hard assumption to make, Molly saw him in the mines, frozen in front of a burning man. That day he had kissed Caleb's forehead and told him they'd have time for that later, urged him up onto his feet once again. Did later ever come?
Once again, Molly pulls a card from the deck, laying it face up on the scarf beside first. The Death card. ]
They think you're beginning something new, that there is a change in you or what surrounds you. You joined a group of weirdos who will take on the adventure of your lifetime.
[ For a moment he seems to ponder that card, head tilted to the side before he pulls the third. It's then that wide grin spreads across his features, laying down the card face up for Caleb to see. The Lover's card. ]
And you're going to find something terribly exciting with them. Something irreplaceable.
[ There will never be a later. Caleb can't imagine there will ever be a good time to fall apart, and he doesn't mind that so much. He lost ten years to being broken apart. As fractured and guilt-soaked as his mind is now, he needs to stay functioning. His goal is a distant end-point dragging him forward. For a time there had only been that, before Nott had arrived, and then these others, this little group, had crowded into the picture.
Considering all of that, maybe Molly's cards are right. Caleb's face doesn't brighten to match Molly's expression. His chest is tight. All his sins bear down on him, bowing his shoulders as he taps a finger hesitantly at the edge of the third card. The Lover's card, carrying the promise of something so precious.
Something undeserved. ]
That is...hopeful.
[ There's so little to be said. Caleb's secrets lurk in the back of his throat, blotting out so many other responses. ]
We will have to wait to see if it's true. It could be some time before I find out if you're making it all up or not.
[ Caleb doesn't look at Molly's face as he speaks. He has a sudden, foolish urge to take the card for himself, as if it would be a talisman and conjure the future Molly had implied into reality.
But he doesn't. His fingers catch at the folds of the soft cloth, then jostle the cards as he pulls back. ]
[ Of all in their little group, Caleb looks the most in need of something hopeful. A light, like his little dancing ones, to light the darkness from time to time. And Molly... Well, he finds himself in something of a sentimental mood, kindness flowing freely in the dark of the night, free of the prying eyes of their fellows. Just a glimmer, just for a little while. ]
Fortune-telling isn't a instant-gratification art unfortunately. But I have a few other tricks up my sleeves that are.
[ Molly watches him, as he has even since Caleb sat down with him, collecting the cards from their resting place. He hesitates on the Lovers, lifting it up in front of his face, idly spinning it about his fingers. It would be nice, wouldn't it? If he was right. Words more than dressed up pleasantries to make people feel good for a little while. He would really like that, he thinks, very much so.
The tiefling chuckles, red gaze flicking to Caleb's face. ]
[ Kindness doesn't sit well with Caleb, who still can't believe himself deserving of it. He can hardly bear Nott's affections. He's less certain of what to do with Molly, though at least with Molly he has the idea that it's not really about Caleb. They're a self-serving bunch. That buffer is one of the few things that makes all of this bearable for Caleb. As much as he wants to be part of this group, he doesn't know how to shake the idea that he shouldn't be here to begin with.
It's a work in progress, like just about everything else the Mighty Nein are. ]
Maybe you can show me.
[ Whatever else Molly had up his sleeve wouldn't be magic. Maybe the cards are and maybe they aren't, but Caleb envisions anything else Molly had in his arsenal to be slight of hand. He extends his own, begging back the wine skin. ]
Will you pull a copper from behind my ear?
[ Yet another thing easier for Caleb to take in stride than the idea that he may someday be happy. ]
[ It is as much not about Caleb as it is. Something terribly sentimental in Molly keeps creeping up with him, the urge to do something to make the other man laugh or smile. A man like that can't be so dour all the time, it can't be healthy. Somewhere along the line, since attached himself to this group of self-serving bunch of weirdos, he decided to just that. Put cracks in that depressing exterior of Caleb's, for no other reason than he can.
Molly is weird like that, weird and sentimental and kind in his own way. ]
Maybe I can.
[ He is certain that Caleb's mind isn't on the same track as his own, even so a grin creeps along his lips as the cards as put away into a pocket of his elaborate coat. The wine skin he takes, drinking some more, before handing it back over. There is so many things he could do in this moment, things that would likely make the wizard turn tail and run face red as the color of Molly's eyes.
Truthfully it is tempting, if anything to see the expression upon his face and the way Caleb is so very likely to squirm. A man like him? Oh, he flusters easily. ]
A copper? [ Molly hums to himself before his eyes widen and he leans forward, shifting until he trespasses into Caleb's space. ] Oh? What's this?
[ Molly doesn't stop until he is uncomfortably up in Caleb's space, hovering close enough he can almost feel the puff of warm breath against his lavender skin. A compromise of sorts. Tilting his head he reaches behind Caleb's ear ( slight of hand: 19 ), fingers threading through messy hair. The hand lingers longer than it should, Molly lingers longer than he should, before pulling back copper piece held between his thumb and finger. ]
What do you know? A copper piece. How did on earth did it get behind your ear?
[ They've been this close before, is Caleb's first, frantic thought. But the memory of the gnoll mine is blurred; Molly's lips on his forehead had been like a punctuation on the end of a nightmare, pinning Caleb back to the present as much as the sharp crack of Molly's palm on his cheek had been. The second time Molly had pinned him had been almost easier to manage. The intent had been very clear; Caleb could deal with calmly stated threats better than he could tenderness.
Or flirtation, as it turns out. Caleb can't tell if Molly means this moment personally or if it's sport, or if Molly just flirts as easily as he breathes and can't miss the opportunity even if it's Caleb on the receiving end. (Because who could want him? Why would anyone want him?) But Molly gets what he's after: Caleb flushes, freezing in place over the strangeness of gentle fingers in his hair and Molly's amused expression. ]
Very good.
[ Caleb's voice sounds strangled. ]
I didn't even see you put it there. Clever.
[ Ruining the illusion outright, but Caleb awkwardly can't do anything else. He can't even manage eye contact at the moment. The sensation of Molly's fingers in his hair lingers. Caleb lifts a nervous hand to smooth over his hair, as if something's been left out of place. ]
Did you learn to pick pockets like that as well?
[ As far as Caleb's concerned, it's a slippery slope from slight of hand with a coin to lifting an entire coin purse. And it's also the best redirect of the conversation he can think of, because Caleb certainly doesn't want Molly's attention settling on his own reaction to Molly's trick. ]
i'M BACK / i want a hecked up resurrection ritual/cheating molly from the brink of death w. magic
[ Molly enjoys this more than he should, watching the gears start to turn inside of Caleb's head and the redness rush up into his cheeks. He squeezes the copper between his fingers, lips curved into a devious grin, amusement blatantly evident. He likes this, Caleb flustered expression, voice strangled as he tries to process Molly's actions.
That awkwardness - the way he can't manage eye contact, the nervous hand reaching up to smooth over his hair, Mollymauk can't help but find it incredibly endearing. ]
I am quite clever, aren't I?
[ A flick of the wrist, the coin spins in the air before Molly catches it. Fingers close tightly around the small, warm metal, pocketing as he tilts his head - a lazy attempt to catch Caleb's gaze. ]
I picked up a few things with the circus.
[ More than a few, in truth. If it wasn't for the circus he wouldn't be the person he is now, he wouldn't be Mollymauk. ]
And I happen to have very talented hands. [ The grin widens, flashing teeth, red eyes practically twinkling. ] Or so I'm told.
[ 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. ]
[ Molly is...something. Caleb doesn't know the right words for the flamboyant show of Molly's presence. But he does know that Molly at least has a particular gift for avoiding making Caleb feel as if he is being laughed at. Molly's enjoyment is so transparent and so open; it's colored with unspoken invitation. Even if Caleb can't quite manage to partake, he appreciates that in Molly. ]
And so humble.
[ Caleb's tone is dry, but somehow faintly, embarrassingly fond. ]
Do you care to tell me what else you picked up?
[ The question isn't exactly fair. Caleb isn't about to share any of the things he's picked up on the road. He and Nott have a fair number of tricks up their sleeve, but they've yet to let their companions in on them. They should, one of these days. Caleb knows they're well past the point where they may have had to use their usual plans to scuttle away from their traveling companions, but something in him demands they keep holding back. It's hard to put all his trust into this arrangement, when it would be so easy for him to make a mess of it. ]
[ 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.
[ They deserve a vacation. A couple of weeks in some secluded corner of the world, far from wars or kidnappings or weird magical eyegems that merge with their friend's chest. Molly broaches the subject a couple of times with little success, in part due to his jovial nature, also in part to the shadows they all seem to be running from. The most the Mighty Nein can manage is a broken down cottage in the midst of a dense forest that Jester and Caduceus are quick to make homely.
Well, it's better than nothing, right?
It doesn't take them long to set up a comfortable camp to spend the next couple of days relaxing in while planning their next move. Quickly tension seems to melt from the other's shoulders, laughter bubbles between them all in conversation, and Mollymauk grins pleased with himself. Jester, Beau, and Caduceus are sitting by a fire when Molly slips into the newly decorated cottage, admiring the springs of flowers and fungi that run along the door frame. He finds Caleb inside, of course, nose stuck in the map laid out on an old table while Frumpkin stretches out across a corner of it. ]
Can't you relax for a moment?
[ Molly slips in behind him, arms draping over the other man's shoulders as he presses his face to the back of Caleb's hair. He breathes in before slipping down further, wrapping his arms around him in a lazy hug. ]
[ 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've arrived
Avoiding the possibility of it is what has Caleb cheating at lots when they draw straws each night to decide who takes what shift. The first night he had sat up with Nott, and the second, Jester, and now, this third night, he's watching Molly fan out his tarot cards across the silky pool of his scarf on the ground. His purpose is clear, and it's met with nothing but apprehension from Caleb. ]
I don't need my fortune told.
[ Of course, Caleb has doubts about whether or not Molly is capable of any kind of divination. But he doesn't want to take the risk. There's too many things he'd rather not be seen. ]
Here.
[ He holds out the wine skin to Molly. He's not taken a sip, though he'd agreed when Jester had needled at Fjord to purchase it. ]
welcome home
His mood, though seemingly unchanged to the casual observers, improved incredibly since leaving. Tension melting away the further they traveled. It gave Molly a chance to pay closer attention to his companions, to the joy in Jester, the tension in Caleb, the twitch in Nott's fingers telling him the itch is back. None of his business really, any of it, but he keeps notes, mostly for the sake of keeping notes.
If only boredom was kinda enough to leave well alone.
A nimble hand fans out his cards, face down, as Caleb approaches. Red eyes watching with an almost unreadable look. He's curious, of course, about so many things about their resident wizard. A part of him would love to prod, but won't, nothing ever good comes from prodding things better left alone. ]
Nonsense, everyone needs their fortune told at least once.
[ It is more for his own amusement than anything, something to pass the time of their watch. Molly reaches up, taking the wine skin from Caleb's grip, abandoning his cards for a mere moment as he indulges his thirst. ]
Hmm, decent. Fjord picked a good one.
stretches out casually
There's a giddy relief in his chest over having finally spoken those truths aloud, but it's slowly giving way to the inevitable worry: what if Beau thinks it over, and what if she shares what she knows?
It's not wholly separate from the fan of Molly's deck between nimble fingers. What was Molly capable of picking out of thin air with the aid of a few tarot cards? Caleb watches him drink, eyes noting the lines of his throat and the gleam of jewelry from his horns before his gaze skitters away and falls to his own hands. ]
He did. [ Or Nott had said so, and Caleb trusts her judgement on all things alcohol. ] Is it bullshit? Your fortune-telling?
[ Caleb is careful with questions. He's aware that often people expect something in return for any of the things they share. It feels reckless every time he solicits information from any of the others, apart from Nott. ]
makes you a comfy spot
Something he should talk to Yasha about, he muses, enjoying the sharp aftertaste of the wine, gaze flick towards Caleb. ]
Maybe, maybe not. [ Molly shrugs, flippant. Taking another quick drink from the wineskin before holding it out to Caleb, grin wide across his lavender face. ] Want to find out?
[ Caleb could just say no, resist the thread Molly hangs in front of him, and that will be the end of that. But what else are they going to do for the next few hours? There is only so much watching and listening to the surroundings one can do before boredom takes hold. ]
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Remembering Molly and Yasha tripping into that tavern a few weeks ago feels surreal now. They've gotten comfortable enough with each other that Caleb finds it hard to remember what it was like before. Maybe Nott had been like this too, a stranger until very abruptly she wasn't. It's not as troubling to Caleb as he thought it would be, though so much companionship doesn't always feel so ideal. He pulls his coat close around himself as Frumpkin catapults onto his shoulders and nestles in against his neck. ]
Let's see.
[ Uncertain about whether or not he'll regret this, Caleb decides he'd rather go along than retreat to the other side of the fire with his book. ]
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Oh, he puts on such a display, shuffling the cards with nimble fingers, as red eyes stay trained on Caleb's face. It shows how much he has done this before, the way he manipulates the cards, feeding them into each other in every different way. Once done the deck sits in Mollymauk's hand, face down, and his grin widening. ]
Let's see, let's see, what the cards have in store.
[ Molly pulls forth the first, laying it face up on the scarf before him. Lips purse together as he regards it, as though the picture on top is like to tell him the secrets of the universe. ]
Ah, the Tower. Looks like they think you have suffered a great tragedy and upheaval.
[ He's being a little dramatic, but it isn't hard to assume something terrible happened in Caleb's past. He has that look about it. ]
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Though the first card is a bit—
It's too close to truth for Caleb to be comfortable with it. His jaw tightens, and he's very still for a moment. Is it such a stretch to confirm? Caleb knows his breaks and traumas are so very near the surface. They had all seen him in the mine, frozen in place by his own memories. The substance may be a secret (shared among two of their number) but no one would be surprised by it's existence.
Slowly, Caleb gives a jerky nod of assent. Acknowledgement of the card without any further elaboration is the best he can do. ]
What else do they think?
[ Or more honestly: what else does Molly think of him? ]
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He watches Caleb's expression, the tightening of his jaw, a tell of how very right he was. It wasn't a hard assumption to make, Molly saw him in the mines, frozen in front of a burning man. That day he had kissed Caleb's forehead and told him they'd have time for that later, urged him up onto his feet once again. Did later ever come?
Once again, Molly pulls a card from the deck, laying it face up on the scarf beside first. The Death card. ]
They think you're beginning something new, that there is a change in you or what surrounds you. You joined a group of weirdos who will take on the adventure of your lifetime.
[ For a moment he seems to ponder that card, head tilted to the side before he pulls the third. It's then that wide grin spreads across his features, laying down the card face up for Caleb to see. The Lover's card. ]
And you're going to find something terribly exciting with them. Something irreplaceable.
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Considering all of that, maybe Molly's cards are right. Caleb's face doesn't brighten to match Molly's expression. His chest is tight. All his sins bear down on him, bowing his shoulders as he taps a finger hesitantly at the edge of the third card. The Lover's card, carrying the promise of something so precious.
Something undeserved. ]
That is...hopeful.
[ There's so little to be said. Caleb's secrets lurk in the back of his throat, blotting out so many other responses. ]
We will have to wait to see if it's true. It could be some time before I find out if you're making it all up or not.
[ Caleb doesn't look at Molly's face as he speaks. He has a sudden, foolish urge to take the card for himself, as if it would be a talisman and conjure the future Molly had implied into reality.
But he doesn't. His fingers catch at the folds of the soft cloth, then jostle the cards as he pulls back. ]
Convenient for you, ja?
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Fortune-telling isn't a instant-gratification art unfortunately. But I have a few other tricks up my sleeves that are.
[ Molly watches him, as he has even since Caleb sat down with him, collecting the cards from their resting place. He hesitates on the Lovers, lifting it up in front of his face, idly spinning it about his fingers. It would be nice, wouldn't it? If he was right. Words more than dressed up pleasantries to make people feel good for a little while. He would really like that, he thinks, very much so.
The tiefling chuckles, red gaze flicking to Caleb's face. ]
Incredibly convenient.
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It's a work in progress, like just about everything else the Mighty Nein are. ]
Maybe you can show me.
[ Whatever else Molly had up his sleeve wouldn't be magic. Maybe the cards are and maybe they aren't, but Caleb envisions anything else Molly had in his arsenal to be slight of hand. He extends his own, begging back the wine skin. ]
Will you pull a copper from behind my ear?
[ Yet another thing easier for Caleb to take in stride than the idea that he may someday be happy. ]
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Molly is weird like that, weird and sentimental and kind in his own way. ]
Maybe I can.
[ He is certain that Caleb's mind isn't on the same track as his own, even so a grin creeps along his lips as the cards as put away into a pocket of his elaborate coat. The wine skin he takes, drinking some more, before handing it back over. There is so many things he could do in this moment, things that would likely make the wizard turn tail and run face red as the color of Molly's eyes.
Truthfully it is tempting, if anything to see the expression upon his face and the way Caleb is so very likely to squirm. A man like him? Oh, he flusters easily. ]
A copper? [ Molly hums to himself before his eyes widen and he leans forward, shifting until he trespasses into Caleb's space. ] Oh? What's this?
[ Molly doesn't stop until he is uncomfortably up in Caleb's space, hovering close enough he can almost feel the puff of warm breath against his lavender skin. A compromise of sorts. Tilting his head he reaches behind Caleb's ear ( slight of hand: 19 ), fingers threading through messy hair. The hand lingers longer than it should, Molly lingers longer than he should, before pulling back copper piece held between his thumb and finger. ]
What do you know? A copper piece. How did on earth did it get behind your ear?
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Or flirtation, as it turns out. Caleb can't tell if Molly means this moment personally or if it's sport, or if Molly just flirts as easily as he breathes and can't miss the opportunity even if it's Caleb on the receiving end. (Because who could want him? Why would anyone want him?) But Molly gets what he's after: Caleb flushes, freezing in place over the strangeness of gentle fingers in his hair and Molly's amused expression. ]
Very good.
[ Caleb's voice sounds strangled. ]
I didn't even see you put it there. Clever.
[ Ruining the illusion outright, but Caleb awkwardly can't do anything else. He can't even manage eye contact at the moment. The sensation of Molly's fingers in his hair lingers. Caleb lifts a nervous hand to smooth over his hair, as if something's been left out of place. ]
Did you learn to pick pockets like that as well?
[ As far as Caleb's concerned, it's a slippery slope from slight of hand with a coin to lifting an entire coin purse. And it's also the best redirect of the conversation he can think of, because Caleb certainly doesn't want Molly's attention settling on his own reaction to Molly's trick. ]
i'M BACK / i want a hecked up resurrection ritual/cheating molly from the brink of death w. magic
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That awkwardness - the way he can't manage eye contact, the nervous hand reaching up to smooth over his hair, Mollymauk can't help but find it incredibly endearing. ]
I am quite clever, aren't I?
[ A flick of the wrist, the coin spins in the air before Molly catches it. Fingers close tightly around the small, warm metal, pocketing as he tilts his head - a lazy attempt to catch Caleb's gaze. ]
I picked up a few things with the circus.
[ More than a few, in truth. If it wasn't for the circus he wouldn't be the person he is now, he wouldn't be Mollymauk. ]
And I happen to have very talented hands. [ The grin widens, flashing teeth, red eyes practically twinkling. ] Or so I'm told.
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. ]
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[ 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. ]
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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?
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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?
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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.
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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. ]
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And so humble.
[ Caleb's tone is dry, but somehow faintly, embarrassingly fond. ]
Do you care to tell me what else you picked up?
[ The question isn't exactly fair. Caleb isn't about to share any of the things he's picked up on the road. He and Nott have a fair number of tricks up their sleeve, but they've yet to let their companions in on them. They should, one of these days. Caleb knows they're well past the point where they may have had to use their usual plans to scuttle away from their traveling companions, but something in him demands they keep holding back. It's hard to put all his trust into this arrangement, when it would be so easy for him to make a mess of it. ]
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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
slaps down this demand for soft things
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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.
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Well, it's better than nothing, right?
It doesn't take them long to set up a comfortable camp to spend the next couple of days relaxing in while planning their next move. Quickly tension seems to melt from the other's shoulders, laughter bubbles between them all in conversation, and Mollymauk grins pleased with himself. Jester, Beau, and Caduceus are sitting by a fire when Molly slips into the newly decorated cottage, admiring the springs of flowers and fungi that run along the door frame. He finds Caleb inside, of course, nose stuck in the map laid out on an old table while Frumpkin stretches out across a corner of it. ]
Can't you relax for a moment?
[ Molly slips in behind him, arms draping over the other man's shoulders as he presses his face to the back of Caleb's hair. He breathes in before slipping down further, wrapping his arms around him in a lazy hug. ]
It won't kill you if it is just for one day.
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. ]