Baby, it's cold outsid
Dec. 22nd, 2024 09:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ausgebrannt posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
gremlinhaus[It was Caleb's first Winter's Crest in Rexxentrum, in the small cottage that he had taken to calling home now that the Nein had taken a step back from the more intense part of their adventuring. Lucien and Cognouza were dealt with. Trent Ikithon was imprisoned. The war between the Dynasty and the Empire ended. Jobs well done, he supposed.
He had Essek had plans to travel back to Aeor, to seek out the T-Dock and the other mysteries of magic that lingered there, but the trip had not yet been undertaken. After all, Caleb knew that the drow had to be careful. The eyes of the Dynasty and the Bright Queen would eventually fall on him in regards to the stolen beacon. But that didn't mean he didn't look forward to the evenings that Essek managed to drop by to spend time.
He treasured those times, when they'd discuss magic and theory. He'd make tea -- or sometimes break out something a bit stronger -- and they'd talk until all hours.
All that talking but some thing still remained unsaid, unspoken, and lingering on the tip of Caleb's tongue where he could taste the bittersweetness of it, of a longing and a desire that he genuinely believed he did not truly deserve to ever really satisfy. How could he? He was a tainted thing, hands still blood-covered, despite his continued attempts to atone.
But he was still too selfish not to want.
Tonight he was seated in his chair, glancing at the door with an undisguised anxious hope. It had been a while since Essek had come, and Caleb missed him. And with Winter's Crest upon them, well, he wanted to share that with the drow, to show him the traditions he had grown up with.]
He had Essek had plans to travel back to Aeor, to seek out the T-Dock and the other mysteries of magic that lingered there, but the trip had not yet been undertaken. After all, Caleb knew that the drow had to be careful. The eyes of the Dynasty and the Bright Queen would eventually fall on him in regards to the stolen beacon. But that didn't mean he didn't look forward to the evenings that Essek managed to drop by to spend time.
He treasured those times, when they'd discuss magic and theory. He'd make tea -- or sometimes break out something a bit stronger -- and they'd talk until all hours.
All that talking but some thing still remained unsaid, unspoken, and lingering on the tip of Caleb's tongue where he could taste the bittersweetness of it, of a longing and a desire that he genuinely believed he did not truly deserve to ever really satisfy. How could he? He was a tainted thing, hands still blood-covered, despite his continued attempts to atone.
But he was still too selfish not to want.
Tonight he was seated in his chair, glancing at the door with an undisguised anxious hope. It had been a while since Essek had come, and Caleb missed him. And with Winter's Crest upon them, well, he wanted to share that with the drow, to show him the traditions he had grown up with.]
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Date: 2025-12-29 02:52 am (UTC)[Caleb agreed with a quiet laugh of his own, turning his head enough to half bury his face in that starlit silver-white hair, breathing him in as if he could live off the sweet familiar sent of him alone. Maybe he could. It felt like he could.
Those lips at his neck were deliciously distracting though, very much one of Caleb Widogast's weakest points that the drow had simply stumbled upon. His voice caught on a soft, pleased sound that he tried to hide as a hum of agreement.]
Ja. Every year, mm? We can celebrate together. This is the happiest holiday I have had. And we'll make our own traditions too, a mix of yours and mine.