Chapter Text
“Laios,” Chilchuck says in lieu of a proper greeting.
Laios turns around immediately, looking like a caricature of relief. “Oh, good. You’re ok,” He breathes out with a tilt of the head. “I was worried, we didn’t hear from you after the job, and-“
Chilchuck puts up a hand, and Laios closes his mouth.
“I wanted to invite you to something.”
“What? Really?” A smile begins to spread across his face, body swaying gently with excitement as he leans back and forth on his heels.
“Yeah. Half-foot feast. You heard of them?”
“Um…” Laios puts a finger up to his bottom lip. “Uh…”
Chilchuck rolls his eyes. “It’s fine if you haven’t.”
“What are they?”
“It’s a sort of celebration we do each season. Since it’s the end of summer, the autumn feast is in a few days. It might be awkward for you, seeing as you’ll likely be the only person who’s not a halfling, but-“
“I’ll go,” Laios says quickly. “I-I’d be honored.”
Chilchuck feels his face warm ever so slightly. Laios really must not get how he affects people, because otherwise he wouldn’t say weird shit like that. Honored? Who says that in this mundane a context? (Is it mundane?)
“Well it’s in three days, and it lasts all day. Think you can make that?”
Laios nods.
“Ok, great. I’ll be at your place pretty early.” He hesitates, looking at Laios’ clothes.
The same shirt and pants he wears under his armour, which Chilchuck can tell haven’t been washed since they left the dungeon a week ago. He’s actually pretty sure Laios only cleans himself if he actively has something on him, like a significant amount of blood or grime.
Apparently their encounter with the Banshee didn’t create enough carnage for him, because Chilchuck can see its blood splatter, now dried, on his chest and shoulder.
“Take a shower and pick out some nice clothes, too,” he adds on. “Or at least…wash the ones you’re wearing. Please.”
Three days later, he shows up to Laios and Falin’s house at about 5:00 am. That’s what the town clock says, at least. It sure as hell feels earlier than that.
Laios answers the door, rubbing his eyes. He briefly looks irritated, but when his eyes find Chilchuck, a tired grimace quickly turns into a tired (but excited) grin.
“You weren’t joking. It’s still dark out,” he muses. “Is it different because halflings have night vision?”
Chilchuck laughs. “No, that’s…not how anything works. It hasn’t started yet. Technically it won’t actually start for like, five hours.”
Now Laios just looks confused. “Huh? Why’d you wake me up this early, then?”
“Because,” he explains, stretching his hands behind his head. “We’re helping set up.”
“Oh! Wait, we are?”
“Yep. What, you think I can bring a random tallman to a big gathering of half-foots without any sort of fee? Most of ‘em don’t have great experience with your kind. They want to know you’re willing to give and not just take.”
He hums, understanding igniting behind his eyes. “I see…well, then I’ll do whatever you need me to do!”
-
To his credit, Laios did exactly as promised. Even as the main organizer, an older guy named Lewymay, kept barking orders at him that most would consider directly contradictory.
Lewymay was already not a friendly guy, not even to other halflings. Deep wrinkled tan skin with hair so thin and grey it might as well be transparent; he was well past his 50s. Aggressive, bossy, and most people under the age of 36 considered him outright senile.
Despite all the criticism, he was still more or less the village chief. While their social structure on the island worked differently than the average halfling community, that did mean that he tended to be the one in charge of organizing things.
One hour in, Lewymay orders Laios to put a whole lobster shell into a soon-to-be gumbo broth, then gets angry and demands he take it out of the broth.
Then back in.
No, actually, take it out. Back in! Not that long! It needs to have balance, you dolt!
To his credit, Laios is doing exactly as promised without tearing his hair out and leaving in a fit. Chilchuck had done that before, last time he helped organize one of these things. He can see the two other volunteers, Dandan and some fifteen year old kid (whose name is either Pegmoya or Pegmary) cringing in sympathy.
“Now put it in one final time!” Lewymay orders. Laios looks briefly unsure, but does as he’s told with an enthusiastic “yes sir!”. It falls into the broth with a splash, now sporting a nice shade of red. Chilchuck’s done gumbo prep before, and usually you don’t take out the lobster shell until you’re ready to get on with the actual thing. He’s not sure if Lewy is just actually as senile as everyone thinks he is, or if he’s messing with Laios. He really hopes it’s the second one, because as was mentioned, that guy is in charge of a whole lot of shit.
Speaking of Laios, the big oaf smiles at Lewymay, looking way too proud. Chilchuck is disturbed by how his heart flutters. Heart attack, he thinks. Old age is coming too fast. That better be why, at least.
Lewymay doesn’t return the look.
“You’re done with this. Go help Dans and Moya with the chairs.” He makes a shoo’ing motion with his hand. Laios does as he’s told, walking past Chilchuck with a sort of sheepish, “well, what can you do?” expression. Chilchuck chuckles under his breath, returning it with a shrug.
It’s a little embarrassing how much more productive things are with Laios around. This, for Chilchuck, is a very different side of him. He’s productive and on track enough that Chilchuck knows for sure that he must be, on a personal level, interested in this…but the thing bugging him is that he really doesn’t know why.
Well, it could be an ego thing, but that feels out of character. Laios does have an ego, but it’s not ever once been focused on his social status. He couldn’t care less what other people thought about him, unless he cared specifically about the person.
The little voice in Chilchuck’s head screams at him to stop analyzing that, because he’s already in too deep, what with this whole “close friendship” thing. The last thing anyone needs is for romantic feelings to blossom; that never goes well, historically. He even had to make a rule about it, that’s how many times it didn’t go well.
Honestly, even entertaining the possibility of him having any feelings for Laios probably made Chilchuck a hypocrite. As if, right?
He comes back to reality when he hears Dandan struggling with moving a table, and subsequently hears Laios offering to just move it for him.
Oh Laios. Oh sweet, unassuming Laios. Chilchuck sucks in air through his teeth as he watches Dandan’s face turn a nice shade of cherry red.
“Or, here’s a better suggestion: why don’t you get off your high horse and quit assuming you’re just automatically fitter than us? How’s that sound?” He spits, offended. Laios looks taken aback.
“I didn’t-“
“I can move a damn table!”
Chilchuck sighs. This one isn’t even on Laios. Half-foot men tend to have inferiority complexes. Their idea of what it means to be men is the same as dwarven standards, and that’s a problem when you’re smaller and often less physically built than everyone.
Dwarves are naturally bulkier, compact with a large muscle mass. Half-foots were better in the sensory department, stealth and dexterity, flexibility, and endurance. Upper and lower body strength, not so much.
Not to say you couldn’t train, but the unfortunate truth was that the strongest Half-foot still probably couldn’t beat the weakest Dwarf.
Maybe if we’d based our physical standards on our own bodies, Chilchuck thinks dimly, we’d be less insecure about these things.
He steps inbetween the pair, putting his hand lightly on Dandan’s shoulder.
“Dans, this looks real embarrassing. Please don’t let pride get in your way, especially when you clearly couldn’t move it.”
He shrugs Chilchuck’s hand off roughly. “It’s a Halfling table! It was made by and for us! It’s not- look, Laios, I like you! But, Chil, don’t you agree it’s insulting for a Tallman to waltz up and- and-“
“Help?” Chilchuck answers drily.
Dandan flushes, mouth opening to speak, but closing as he realizes he has nothing to say in defense.
He sighs. “I don’t love asking for help either, but you could’ve just said no. Making a big scene makes you look insecure, it’s embarrassing for all of us.”
“Right…yeah, I guess so,” Dandan mumbles.
Chilchuck pats his back, the way Namari always does, grinning a little when it makes Dandan cough the wind out straight out of him.
He can see why Namari does that to him so often now, it’s pretty funny.
“You know, sometimes I can’t move things on my own either,” Laios says, making both of them look up at him. “And it’s usually when people are relying on my physical strength, that I can’t. A few years back, I was working this job, and I was called on to move some crates…”He pauses. “I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t even budge them a little. The guys working with me called me ‘princess’ for a year.”
Dandan huffs a laugh. “Just remembered why I liked you so much…’princess’.” He chuckles a little more at the nickname, then coughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry I flipped out. Chil is right, it’s not a good look on anyone.”
“Well, we all get like that,” Laios reassures. “I’m not insecure about my physical presence so much, but my knowledge on certain things is something I, admittedly, get pretty weird about. I- I remember one time Falin and I got into an argument over a monster fact, she thought one thing was true and I thought it was the opposite — turns out, she was right, but I got so embarrassed I just stuck my fingers in my ears.”
“Was this back when you two were kids?” Chilchuck asks, since he doesn’t remember this incident. He can believe it, of course. Very Laios thing to do.
“No. We were both in our early twenties.”
Dandan’s face is blank in the way that makes it clear he’s trying and failing to make thoughts go. Suddenly, it shifts into understanding.
“I remember that!” He gasps. “It was about Manticores! You thought they were poisonous, not venomous, and that their spines were more like porcupines.”
“Seriously?” Chilchuck laughs.
“In my defence, I don’t know much about Manticores…which really frustrates me, actually.”
“I bet,” he hums. “Anyways: Laios, Dans, are we ever gonna move this table…?”
Dandan looks very much like he forgot it was even there. “Oh, right. Laios?”
Laios offers a smile and pushes it with some effort. He’s leaning his whole weight on it, pushing as hard as he can. “I really thought this would be lighter,” he mutters.
Dandan looks mildly vindicated.
-
To his credit, Laios was doing a really good job. When they were done setting up, it looked really good.
He’d been patient, and helpful, and friendly. Even Lewymay seemed to be sort of endeared by him.
“Tell me why a troll boy has more respect for me than some of you,” he’d said when Laios had left the room briefly to grab some barrels of ale and fermented berries. “He even calls me sir. None of you ingrates do that.”
“Sorry, sir,” Penmoya had replied. Lewymay scoffed and shook his head.
“Nope, it’s not sincere when you say it.”
-
The celebration is better than usual this year — which is saying something, since, in Chilchuck’s humble opinion, it’s always good.
As the sun rose, people started to trickle in. By noon, it was packed with people talking and laughing. Soon a small group began playing live music (small group of only somewhat talented guys, all of who Chilchuck had known from his childhood village. Honestly, he was a little disappointed that they seemingly hadn’t changed much since he’d last seen them…)
chairs were filled and tables were stacked with food and drink. Filled mugs of just ok beer, roasted corn and veg that glistened in the afternoon sun, steaming buns of soft looking bread packed with mashed sweet potato, fried foods galore, and as a centrepiece, a massive pot of freshly made gumbo that well could’ve touched the sky.
Laios had eaten a fair bit, and Chilchuck had eaten…well, more than he was comfortable with. He’d stopped stuffing his face a while ago, though now feels sort of tempted to go for a second round, since Laios is seemingly not even close to being done.
A piece of fried dough is shoved unceremoniously into his mouth, and then two more. “Chil, thith is amathin’! I’ve nevther hath half-footh footh before,” he says through a full mouth.
Flicks of chewed food fly onto Chilchuck’s face, and he wipes them off with a scowl. “Swallow first, then speak. Otherwise you’re gonna choke.”
“Thorry…” he chews quick and swallows with an exaggerated looking gulp, even straining his neck up as if that’ll help the food slide down quicker. “I said this was amazing, and I’d never had Half-foot food before.”
“I understood you the first time.”
“Sorry.”
After food, people start to really drink; the music growing more lively acting as a signal to everyone except Laios that the exciting bit is finally starting up.
Laios, meanwhile, is alerted by a young woman pulling his arm to an open area full of people dancing. Bonelessly, he obliges.
Leaning casually against the mossy wall of someone’s house, Chilchuck takes a long sip from his cup. He wishes he felt bad, but he’s sort of glad no one bothered to tell him, if not simply because Laios’ look of shock is enough to keep Chilchuck giggling for months.
Thankfully he rolls with it, so it doesn’t feel too mean to laugh — though initially there is a visible lack of confidence, legs clunking into each other and torso totally stiff, his arms move like they’re attached with wooden ball-joints.
But as the music flows, he becomes more fluid, leaning into the melody. That is around when Chilchuck stops finding it funny. Then, like an asshole, Laios makes eye contact with him.
Chilchuck isn’t proud of the way his cheeks flush.
As if, yeah. Right.
Laios offers his hand, seemingly totally obvious to what he’s doing.
“Aren’t you gonna join in?” He says with an innocent smile.
“Nah, I’ll pass,” Chilchuck replies. Laios’ hand juts closer to his face, making his ears heat up.
“Are you sure? It’s actually really fun, once you get used to it!”
He swats his hand away, scowling. “I said I’d pass! Also, don’t offer your hand so causally — it could be misinterpreted. Remember that mage woman?”
“Marcille?”
“No, dumbass! The brown haired one. The one who was seducing you!”
“Asivia?”
“Yes!!”
Laios frowns. “You’re different, though.”
…the hell does that mean?? Chilchuck’s eyes widen a little. That had better be his way of saying ‘we’re just guy friends, so there’s no way that could happen, silly!’…but something in Laios’ expression: the smallest, barely noticeable touch of vulnerability, makes him worry that is, in fact, not what he meant.
When Chilchuck doesn’t reply, Laios must understand his no really is a no, because he disappears into the crowd sort of dejectedly. Maybe he should just put his reservations aside and dance with him. Maybe if it was someone else he would, but the biggest problem is really how much Chilchuck himself wants to.
It’s not ok to feel like that about your boss. He’d be taking advantage of…something. Even if Laios was the one offering, he wouldn’t feel right about it.
A gentle reminder of shame creeps up his spine like a million little insects.
Of course, just when he thinks he’s been made uncomfortable enough, he sees her. Mei. She’s off in the distance, picking and prodding at the remaining food.
His heart jumps into his throat, and he ducks away. He’s a coward, he knows, but…he just wasn’t expecting her presence, is all. He slides back against the stone, because she’s just around the corner, and he’s scared she’ll see him if he’s standing.
He sits there for a while, listening to other people enjoy themselves. Eventually during a lull in the energy, Laios removes himself from the group and sits beside Chilchuck.
“Sun’s setting,” Chilchuck says without looking at him. He thinks he sounds distracted.
“Yeah,” Laios replies, apparently obvious to his uneasy tone.
He shifts uncomfortably, he can still see her if he leans forward a bit. Should he say something? She seems busy, so maybe not? Anyways, what if- Would telling her, would that make him seem crazy? Would it make her uncomfortable, ruin her day? Would she even want to see him?
He can’t stop picturing her body, how realistic everything was, how final everything felt. He can’t stop thinking about how the Banshee had her face, even as he killed it. Is he a bad father? Could a good man ever kill something that looked like his own child?
He’d been so angry when he realized what was happening, so affronted that anything could violate and take advantage of what he deemed to be such a sacred connection. He hadn’t even thought about it twice, he’d looked at his daughters face and he’d still ripped her heart out.
Laios clears his throat, briefly cutting through his thoughts. “It’s so orange…that’s really cool looking. I like to think when a red dragon releases its fire, this is how it looks. Same size, too. I really hope we can see that, someday.”
This time he does turn to look at Laios. “What? You mean you want to see all of us get burned to a crisp?”
“No, I mean, we’d be behind something of course…” Laios reassures, but then hesitates, which undoes the reassurance immediately. “It wouldn’t be a terrible way to go though, right?”
“Easy to say when you’re not the one who got burned to death,” he says dully. The oil trap incident remains a permanent etch carved on the inside of his brain. Laios too, evidently, because he jumps straight into awkward backtracking.
“I- Well…but…oil’s different,” he mumbles.
“I’ve gotten killed by regular fire traps, too. Still pretty bad.”
“Oh. Yeah, well, that’s…yeah.”
Neither of them say anything for a moment, allowing Chilchuck to sink back into his earlier troubles.
She’s just standing there, talking to someone. They’re only separated visually by the corner of a house, if he walks over, she’ll notice him immediately.
…Why does he not want that?
Laios of course notices, because he saw the Banshee. He saw it’s stretched out and soulless impression of her face, her freckles, her hair. Of course he saw that, too. He saw her, and he saw Chilchuck kill her.
“Is that your daughter?” He whispers. Chilchuck flinches at the confirmation. He draws his knees to his chest, and lets his head fall against them.
There’s nothing more humiliating than being afraid to see your own child, he thinks bitterly to himself.
Laios’ gaze is on him still, he can feel it. He has no idea what he’s thinking, he’s afraid of what those thoughts might turn into when Chilchuck finds the words to say what he wants to say in response.
“Well, that’s good! You wanted to talk to her, right?” Oh, Laios.
He doesn’t move his head beyond a barely noticeable shake.
“You don’t?”
“I-“ He’s a coward. “I don’t know if I can,” he manages to say. His voice is thick and shivering.
Silence. Chilchuck grinds his teeth together, waiting for the distinct sound of Laios getting up to leave. He would, if he were him.
But that sound never comes.
“That’s okay,” Laios replies after some consideration. “You don’t have to have that conversation right now.” He looks around a little, like he’s searching for an exit. “Er. Has she seen you?”
“…No.”
“Then…did you want to leave?”
Chilchuck’s breath catches. He kind of does, but at the same time…well.
He doesn’t respond directly at first, instead he stands up and offers Laios his hand. Laios, confused, looks up at him.
“No. The music’s still going, it’d be rude to leave.” His eyes dart down to meet Laios’. “You wanted to dance, right?”
He watches as a pale blush dusts across his cheeks, and he pretends it doesn’t mean anything.
A large hand, only lightly calloused in the places where fingers meet palm, envelopes his.
He ignores himself, and lets the music lead him and Laios to the crowd. For a brief dusk hour, he sets aside the cocktail of shame and guilt and lingering anguish, and he allows himself to relax.
Before they do leave, now deep into the nighttime, he notices something: Mei’s bag. Left alone, she must be in the bathroom, or something.
He sighs. It’s irresponsible to just leave it out like this. She should really know better.
Quickly, he scribbles out a note. It’s not too long — he tells her he’s proud of her, tells her he wanted to talk to her but it seemed like an awkward time, tells her to never leave her bag alone in a public space like this.
And he slips out with that shame and guilt filling his head again.
Awkward timing…right.
-
He doesn’t get the chance to see his family again for a while. He exchanges with letters, of course, but it’s not the same.
He wonders when, if, he will again. Sometimes it feels so far out of his grasp.
Then, one day, Falin is taken by a dragon.
And then, when she becomes the dragon, he watches as Laios kills her himself. Suffocates her, doesn’t falter even when she slams him against cobbled walls in her desperate attempts to survive.
He watches as the entire world is consumed by a demon incomprehensible to any of them; he covers his ears desperately as it offers to create replicas of his own family, all presumably having been consumed with the rest.
He watches as Laios — despite everything, despite having truly faced the possibility of his sister being gone for good, despite having killed her himself — crashes into her with his arms wide open.
And so he finds Mei, and with his arms wide open, he crashes into her. He crashes into her, and he tells her everything.