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Nov. 28th, 2021 04:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iniquiticitysome "look forward lest the past catch up" bits mostly focusing on astrid which were cut from the fic for cohesiveness reasons.
Essek hadn't much liked Astrid as one of Trent's lackeys.
She was mildly more tolerable in her current form, which was to say 1) person who Caleb cared about, 2) Cereberus Assembly archmage and overall Assembly source of information and, 3) accomplice to the destruction of Ludinus Da'leth. For all the hours Essek spent in Rexxentrumm over the next couple of months, a decent number of them were in her tower, which had been completely redone from how he remembered it while it had been Ikithon's. Ikithon had had an obstentatious and irritating sense of decor, and Astrid had taken down almost all of the decorations and not replaced them.
After one of their planning sessions around Da'leth - the two of them as well as Caleb, Eadwulf and Beauregard - Astrid had been standing there, watching him in her predator-like way. He could never quite put away the possible she was luring him into a trap, and Caleb would not confirm it. If Caleb could not be confident this person important to him wasn't going to betray them outright, how could he be?
He gathered the confidence to meet her eyes.
"Wear this," she said to him. He pulled his hand back when she reached for it.
"Tell me what it is first," he said.
"It's a contingency ring," she said, and then she held out her hand, palm up, exposing the ring. It was made of grey stone with a center ring of red wood. "You activate it by putting it on. If it's removed from you without the command word - calling -, you teleport here. If you are knocked unconscious, you teleport here."
She threw at him, and he snatched for it, almost as an instinct. In the magical lights of the chamber, he could see how the outer color matched the wall of the tower.
"You don't have to wear it," she said, with her typical disinterest. He was sure, in a way, that it was an elaborate act, but it was a very convincing one - and it was impossible to tell how she actually felt about him. "But if you die, I tried to rescue you."
"The same one that Caleb has," Essek said. He knew the ring Caleb wore on the pinky finger of his left hand.
She nodded, then gathered up the little notebook she carried and slipped it into a secret pocket of her tunic. Eadwulf murmured something in Zemnian to her, and she made what Essek interpreted as an agreeing noise.
"Caleb," she said, looking up at him and nodding, "Expositor."
Both her and Eadwulf left the room.
***
Either it was unbelievably cleverly disguised - both his identify and Caleb's revealed it was exactly what she said it was - or it really was a contingency ring. He kept it in his pocket for a while, trying to decide how wise it was to wear it.
"Put it on while you are on your adventures," Caleb said, so he did. There were challenging parts of this life, in various different ways, and these goodbyes were agonizing. There were words in High Drow and undercommon to explain it and they abandoned Essek, all at once, when he was standing in Caleb's living room, prepared for spending time moving from place to place. Caleb was unbelievably handsome, in that moment, taking the ring from his palm and sliding it onto his index finger. He felt the magic of it activate, like a ripple on his skin.
He had not yet managed to tell Caleb, exactly, how this agonized. There were enemies out there who hunted him. He received the messages from the Bright Queen's envoys inquiring about his location, which he never responded to. They asked him questions about specific circumstances and locations to which he never gave an answer. If he was lucky, he thought, they thought he was dead. Maybe they thought he was a deserter, at best. A blasphemous traitor, at worse.
Caleb was holding his hands and staring at him under his furrowed brow. In the cold of the Rexxentrumm winter he was sporting a moderately-kept beard, a few days of unshaven red stubble growing onto his cheeks and down his neck. He had cut his hair short a few weeks back, and now it was growing long again, an awkward length down his shoulders, held in a leather tie at the base of his neck.
This thing they had, did, were, felt - how spectacular and terrible it was, how it pulsed like life in his chest and burned hot when they separated. Essek dared not look directly at it, like staring at the sun. Caleb was bright enough without being named, impossibly central to his life
The words for it in common felt ridiculous and minimal. He ought to learn Zemnian, for real, not simply an hour at a time, so maybe he could describe it better.
"I will Send every evening," Essek said. Caleb was staring at where their hands were linked. Matching rings from a woman they both had strange history with and that neither of them trusted. The absurdity of it felt oddly comfortable, and even more oddly, far better than the feeling he got from when Caleb squeezed his hands.
"Discover something interesting," Caleb said, and then took a step back and let him go.
Bereft was the word, he thought. His skin felt cold where Caleb had been; his chest twisted. He knew it was too dangerous to stay here, for both of them, for their studies, for their goals against Da'leth. He knew he had to go. He knew staying in one place, with one face was dangerous. He knew, and yet.
"I will," he said, pretending his voice was even. He took a step back himself, pretending there were no pleading meows from cats around him. Asril, a grey stray Caleb had instructed him to name that had taken a liking to him, was rubbing up against his leg and purring loudly. Cats did not understand the nature of fleeing treason. He certainly could not return to pet her if he was dragged off and executed by the Dynasty.
On his last stay away from Caleb, he had been getting the lay of the land in Emon. Such an enormous city, so far away, was safer than here. He imagined the inn he had been staying at, bringing up the back alley in his mind.
He kneeled down to pet Asril's ears, and she purred. "I will be back very shortly," he said, which he knew not to be true, but cats did not call you a liar to your face, even if they knew, "So you must let Professor Widogast take care of you."
Asril did not stop rubbing against his hand or purring. He stood, jerking himself from what felt like quicksand. He brought his fingers up. The cozy, protected warmth of Caleb's living room was replaced by the moderate Emon winter; he got himself a room and carefully picked Asril's fur off his boots, wishing she was still there. The fur might give Caleb away.
Essek hadn't much liked Astrid as one of Trent's lackeys.
She was mildly more tolerable in her current form, which was to say 1) person who Caleb cared about, 2) Cereberus Assembly archmage and overall Assembly source of information and, 3) accomplice to the destruction of Ludinus Da'leth. For all the hours Essek spent in Rexxentrumm over the next couple of months, a decent number of them were in her tower, which had been completely redone from how he remembered it while it had been Ikithon's. Ikithon had had an obstentatious and irritating sense of decor, and Astrid had taken down almost all of the decorations and not replaced them.
After one of their planning sessions around Da'leth - the two of them as well as Caleb, Eadwulf and Beauregard - Astrid had been standing there, watching him in her predator-like way. He could never quite put away the possible she was luring him into a trap, and Caleb would not confirm it. If Caleb could not be confident this person important to him wasn't going to betray them outright, how could he be?
He gathered the confidence to meet her eyes.
"Wear this," she said to him. He pulled his hand back when she reached for it.
"Tell me what it is first," he said.
"It's a contingency ring," she said, and then she held out her hand, palm up, exposing the ring. It was made of grey stone with a center ring of red wood. "You activate it by putting it on. If it's removed from you without the command word - calling -, you teleport here. If you are knocked unconscious, you teleport here."
She threw at him, and he snatched for it, almost as an instinct. In the magical lights of the chamber, he could see how the outer color matched the wall of the tower.
"You don't have to wear it," she said, with her typical disinterest. He was sure, in a way, that it was an elaborate act, but it was a very convincing one - and it was impossible to tell how she actually felt about him. "But if you die, I tried to rescue you."
"The same one that Caleb has," Essek said. He knew the ring Caleb wore on the pinky finger of his left hand.
She nodded, then gathered up the little notebook she carried and slipped it into a secret pocket of her tunic. Eadwulf murmured something in Zemnian to her, and she made what Essek interpreted as an agreeing noise.
"Caleb," she said, looking up at him and nodding, "Expositor."
Both her and Eadwulf left the room.
***
Either it was unbelievably cleverly disguised - both his identify and Caleb's revealed it was exactly what she said it was - or it really was a contingency ring. He kept it in his pocket for a while, trying to decide how wise it was to wear it.
"Put it on while you are on your adventures," Caleb said, so he did. There were challenging parts of this life, in various different ways, and these goodbyes were agonizing. There were words in High Drow and undercommon to explain it and they abandoned Essek, all at once, when he was standing in Caleb's living room, prepared for spending time moving from place to place. Caleb was unbelievably handsome, in that moment, taking the ring from his palm and sliding it onto his index finger. He felt the magic of it activate, like a ripple on his skin.
He had not yet managed to tell Caleb, exactly, how this agonized. There were enemies out there who hunted him. He received the messages from the Bright Queen's envoys inquiring about his location, which he never responded to. They asked him questions about specific circumstances and locations to which he never gave an answer. If he was lucky, he thought, they thought he was dead. Maybe they thought he was a deserter, at best. A blasphemous traitor, at worse.
Caleb was holding his hands and staring at him under his furrowed brow. In the cold of the Rexxentrumm winter he was sporting a moderately-kept beard, a few days of unshaven red stubble growing onto his cheeks and down his neck. He had cut his hair short a few weeks back, and now it was growing long again, an awkward length down his shoulders, held in a leather tie at the base of his neck.
This thing they had, did, were, felt - how spectacular and terrible it was, how it pulsed like life in his chest and burned hot when they separated. Essek dared not look directly at it, like staring at the sun. Caleb was bright enough without being named, impossibly central to his life
The words for it in common felt ridiculous and minimal. He ought to learn Zemnian, for real, not simply an hour at a time, so maybe he could describe it better.
"I will Send every evening," Essek said. Caleb was staring at where their hands were linked. Matching rings from a woman they both had strange history with and that neither of them trusted. The absurdity of it felt oddly comfortable, and even more oddly, far better than the feeling he got from when Caleb squeezed his hands.
"Discover something interesting," Caleb said, and then took a step back and let him go.
Bereft was the word, he thought. His skin felt cold where Caleb had been; his chest twisted. He knew it was too dangerous to stay here, for both of them, for their studies, for their goals against Da'leth. He knew he had to go. He knew staying in one place, with one face was dangerous. He knew, and yet.
"I will," he said, pretending his voice was even. He took a step back himself, pretending there were no pleading meows from cats around him. Asril, a grey stray Caleb had instructed him to name that had taken a liking to him, was rubbing up against his leg and purring loudly. Cats did not understand the nature of fleeing treason. He certainly could not return to pet her if he was dragged off and executed by the Dynasty.
On his last stay away from Caleb, he had been getting the lay of the land in Emon. Such an enormous city, so far away, was safer than here. He imagined the inn he had been staying at, bringing up the back alley in his mind.
He kneeled down to pet Asril's ears, and she purred. "I will be back very shortly," he said, which he knew not to be true, but cats did not call you a liar to your face, even if they knew, "So you must let Professor Widogast take care of you."
Asril did not stop rubbing against his hand or purring. He stood, jerking himself from what felt like quicksand. He brought his fingers up. The cozy, protected warmth of Caleb's living room was replaced by the moderate Emon winter; he got himself a room and carefully picked Asril's fur off his boots, wishing she was still there. The fur might give Caleb away.