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Time has made it more tolerable, but Caleb is certain that he will never be anything but unnerved by the heavy, meaty sound of a body as it slides off the end of Mollymauk’s sword, hitting the ground with a thud. The tiefling flashes him a roguish grin, spinning his blood soaked, ice laced semitar in hand. Its strange energy cast a dancing, cold blue light across the damp cellar walls. Caleb reciprocates with a smile of his own, lip pressed tight, the corners twitching upward into a crooked grin which Molly seems to thrill at sight of. He flashes a bit of fang, sparing Caleb a quick wink before he takes off sprinting. Caleb watches him go, listens to the sound of his boots pounding against the slick floor, stomping through puddles even once he’s rounded the far corner.
What had at first seemed like a quick clean up job had quickly turned into a tunnel crawl, as the Nein soon discovered that the cellar was connected to network of twisting catacombs. Merrow slither up and down dank halls, dragging bloated bodied across broken stone with no clear indication of which direction they’re coming from. The low ceilings and the cold, damp air, the deep shadows and maze like structure of the catacombs have everyone’s hackles raised. Worried for what it might mean to become lost in the twisting tunnels, Caleb has taken to dragging the tips of his fingers along the slick walls, bringing up the rear as he puts the stone to memory, forming a mental map to guide the group back out. However, as more and more merrow slink their way out of the crumbling tunnels and darkened alcoves the Nein has been spread rather thin. Now that Mollymauk has run on ahead Caleb finds himself completely alone, save for Frumpkin, wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf, and his dancing lights.
“Eh- that is alright, though.” he says to the open air. “Mollymauk will not have gone too far.” Each step is deafening in the empty hall, his fingers twitch up to tug at the glove of blasting.”And- uh-you know, Caduceus is not to far behind us”
And he and Nott have their copper wires, he assures himself, patting down the pocket at his left hip to feel the bulk of the spool against his palm. “So everything is alright”
Frumpkin murmurs in what Caleb hopes is agreement, and so he pushes on. Fingers dragging across jagged stone, memorizing each dip in the tunnel under his boots, every dripping stalactite that he passes.
“This is alright” he mutters, cold, wet stones echoing his mantra back to him. “They would not leave you down here alone. We are a- a team, ja. No , they would not leave you. This is fine.”
He could stop, hunker down against the wall and hope that their other cleric has not himself gotten lost. He could do that, it’s honestly far more appealing than the alternative, which is to run ahead into the unknown darkness in an attempt to chase Mollymauk down. Caleb instead, decides to compromise. Carefully he unwinds Frumpkin from his person and sets the fey cat on the ground.
“Go find Mollymauk” he instructs the cat. His bushy ginger tail flicks once in understanding and then Frumpkin disappears down the hall as well.
More alone now then ever, Caleb tucks his hands under his arms and leans up against the slick wall.
“Everything is going just fine.” he says again, in the hopes that he might start believing it. What is it their strange circus man says? Change your attitude, change your perspective? So perhaps if Caleb focus less on the fact that he is a very squishy wizard, separated from his companions in a catacomb crawling with merrow, maybe if he stops thinking back on tales of haunted crypts full of the shambling undead that mothers would tell their misbehaving children, maybe then he will feel less like spilling his guts over the wet tunnel floor.
Five minutes pass, hardly five minutes have passed since he’s sent Frumpkin on ahead before Caleb hears the distant clash of metal and muffled shouting, coming from up ahead. Panic seizes Caleb’s chest like a vice. It’s a risky thing, but a calculated risk, that he drops his sight and hearing and shifts his scenes to Frumpkin, instead.
The sounds of battle reach him before anything else and when he blinks into Frumpkin’s sight he sees many pairs of familiar boots. Seems that the rest of the Nien have stumble upon each other, as well as the merrow’s nest. He counts, one, two, three, four, five wretched fish men surrounding Jester, Beau, Molly and Nott. Their massive bodies blocking exits, making it hard to maneuver. They hiss and scream in voices not made to manipulate air, thrashing wildly with pointed claws.
Jester’s spectral lollipop strikes one, stunning it momentarily but hardly moving it, its scales and muscle just too heavy. Nott is up on Beau’s shoulders, trying to gain vantage on marks that are far too close, while Beau struggles to maneuver with a forty pound goblin on her back. Her staff hits the floor with a resounding crack that makes Caleb finch, missing the merrow’s skull by a solid foot. The creature rears back, but as it brings is webbed fist down it shrieks, bring its other hand up to clutch at its face. The clawed fist falters, catching Beau on the calf, rather than tearing onto something more vital.
“Fuck!” she shouts, kicking the merrow back with her heel. “Seriously dude?”
Behind the merrow, Mollymauk shrugs. “Trying to help” he shoots back. Blood dribbles from the crimson spot on his neck. It’s all he manages to get out before he’s slammed to the ground by a thick tail.
A second merrow screams, hefting its bulk over Mollymauk before he can stand, effectively pinning him the ground. It screams again, lunging at a his neck with its jagged teeth bared and there’s a moment between the attack and the golden glint of Mollymauk’s sword pressing the creature back by the jaw where a shot of primal fear wells up like bile in Caleb’s chest.
Caution be damn, he thinks, dropping out of Frumpkin’s eyes. As soon as he can hear and see and move damn it move, he pushes his trembling legs forward, sprinting into the darkness.
It’s luck, he thinks, and his own innate sense of true north that prevents him from stumbling blindly in the wrong direction, because in the cave like tunnel systems of the crypt the shouts of his allies seem to echo from every hallway. He counts footfall as he runs, how many had Mollymauk taken away from him? He counts heartbeats, how many of them before he reaches the others? As he rounds another bend a flash of color along the far wall confirms the other’s location. Caleb is not an athletic man, his lungs burn and his side is aching but instead of slowing down he takes a gasping breath and runs faster.
The hall opens up into a tight space, no larger than a common cellar, entrances on either side. The scene, not so unlike he’d left it, with the exception of two bloodied merrow corpses on the ground, their blood mixing with the stagnant water and Mollymauk is backup on his feet. Breathless, Caleb staggers against the wall trying to asses his options. There are still three merrow, two crowding in on Mollymauk, Nott and Beau, while the third is pressing Jester back into the corner. An arrow flies, striking the merrow in the side of the head. It howls, dissonant voice grating like metal on metal. The howl quickly becomes a gurgle as, in a flash of pink Mollymauk blinks into existence at its side. He thrusts his blades up- up through the center of its chest. It loses a pitiful noise, and slumps forward. Mollymauk grunts under the sudden weight.
With that one taken care of Cable instead turns his attention to other two, closing in on Nott and Beau. He aims a firebolt at the one. It strikes the creature in the side. It wheels around to face him, and as it does Beau staff cracks down on the top of its head. It collapses to the floor in a heap of limbs
“Nice of you to join us!” Mollymauk calls. He’s got a boot up on the shoulder of the merrow he’d just killed, trying to tug his swords free from between its ribs. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth
Caleb, in response, offers him a small, nervous smile and tries very hard not to worry about the blood steadily pooling along Mollymauk jaw. At least now he is up and standing.
The final merrow, sensing that it’s outnumbered now, lets out a horrid scream, lashing around so that it now faces Mollymauk. Mollymauk who’s still struggling with his semitars. Caleb can’t react fast enough, but Jester can. Her lollipop comes shrieking at the merrow, slamming into its side. It slows but it doesn’t stop.
“Molly, watch out!” she shouts.
Mollymauk glances over his shoulder, sees the merrow coming his way. The vein on his neck burst and the merrow hisses in agony as its eyes fill with blood. This doesn’t stop it. Writhing and howling, its tail twisting grotesquely on the damp stones, the merrow swings its taloned claw out in wild reaching arch. It catches Molly across the face and he’s sent spinning. When he falls, he falls in slow motion, the world around him a blurry watercolor and oh, some still lucid part of Caleb’s brain whispers, oh this is the first time Molly has fallen since his most fatal fall on the Glory Run Road. That though becomes a roar, and the roar fills Caleb’s ears and thunders in his veins and flexes through his fingers as his hand gives a sharp tug on the glove blasting. Two of the three flare slam into the merrow, which gives a final, choked scream before it too collapses to the floor. Caleb can hear its flesh crackle and its skin pop under the heat of the inferno. Were he not watching Molly so intently, perhaps smell of it would have him unnerved. As it were, he’s too busy counting seconds, too busy counting heart beats. Molly doesn’t stand.
He counts the steps, one, two, three, four, it takes for Jester to reach him
She lays glowing hands over his chest and Molly jerks forward into Jester’s arms, cough up the blood on the back of his tongue. Jester gives him a good few whacks on the back with her fist, before quickly bundling him up into a hug.
Caleb counts breaths, watching the rise and fall of Molly’s chest even out. He feels his fingers twitch up into a fist.
Feet pound in from different directions. Fjord appears from the tunnel ahead with Yasha at his heels and a moment later, Caduceus enters from the tunnel behind.
“Y’all alright? We heard fightin’” Fjord asks. He glances over a Beau, who’s holding her leg out for Clay to inspect (“You think it’s infected?” “Probably”) over to Molly and Jester on the ground.
Molly pushes himself to stand. “Took a little tumble” Molly says, dusting over his pants. “Nothing to write home about.”
“Mollymauk can I speak with you for a moment.” Caleb says. His outburst is sudden and his tone firm. Molly seems to senses this, his smile faltering, a rare crease forming between his brows. A hush instantly falls over the room.
“Course.” Molly says. He gives curt little nod, indicating Caleb to lead the way, and so he does.
Caleb leads them back out into the hall they’d come from, just far enough to be out of sight of the doorway before he stops them.
In the low light Caleb’s human eyes can just barely make out the thin line of worry in Molly’s face.
His fingers graze Caleb’s elbow tentatively, and Caleb resists the urge to roll his eyes. He is not made of glass, as simple touch will not break him, or he would have shattered long ago.
“You doing alright, dear?’ Molly asks, so sweetly.
“Nein” Caleb says, not so sweetly, and he wraps his fist around the lapel of Mollymauk’s coat.
He doesn’t kiss him kindly. There is no bubbling nervousness in the way he kisses Molly. He does not kiss him like this is the first kiss he has had in over a decade. Instead he bares his teeth, nips at Molly’s lower lip and Molly moans against his mouth. He kisses Mollymauk like statement, like a correction, kisses like a man making an amendment. He could not, had not been able to kiss him before and in doing so had nearly lost the opportunity. Selfish man that he is, Caleb will not allow it to pass him up second time.
When he finally pulls away, the air between them is damp. Caleb feels the trembling of Molly’s fingers against his wrist and he sighs.
“I waste so much time for a man so obsessed with it.” he says dully. “I should have done that the moment you were back.”
Molly’s watches him curiously, silently repeating the words as if he’d misheard them. Whatever tension that had filled his chest, all the worry and the fear and the dread, is suddenly lifted, stolen away on Molly’s breath. A wry smile crack across Caleb’s face.
“Do not act so surprised, Mollymauk, this has ah- been a long time coming, ja?” he reaches up, patting Molly’s cheek once, twice, letting his fingers linger against the peacock feathers there. “You will try to be more careful in the future, won’t you?”
“Mr. Caleb, if you’re going to kiss me like that, I must say, I think I may be more inclined to throw myself into bodily harm.” Molly says, pressing their foreheads together.
Caleb gives him a pointed look, and Molly smiles, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth
“Can’t make any promises, dear, but I will try to behave.”