Work Text:
I
Side note about dying:
It sucks.
II
A study on Mollymauk Tealeaf, part 1:
A Tiefling can’t mingle with the crowd no matter what. Hiding is tiring when there’s nothing you can do about yourself. Mollymauk Tealeaf doesn’t hide and refuses to hide. He picks his jewels, his tattoos and his clothes and transforms lavender scarred skin and sanguine eyes in a masterpiece of gaudiness. He twists the stares, the sneers and the whispers into his show. Not a goddamn soul in the world will stop him from living—living, not surviving, thank you very much. Mollymauk Tealeaf isn’t here to just survive.
III
“Did y’know it’s bad luck to kill a mollymawk?” Fjord slurs, drunk, face smashed in his pillow. "Does it mean it’s bad luck to kill you?”
Molly has to turn his head to look at him and laugh, “I’d be a terrifying ghost.”
“Wouldn’t let you die,” he says too slowly, his accent different somehow.
Humming, Molly closes his eyes for a moment. The taste of cheap alcohol is still in his mouth. He doesn’t think he can die again. For just this one night, light because of the drinks and feeling pleasantly sleepy, he’s immortal, a twice born asshole who can’t be killed. It’s, of course, an amazing sensation, and he’s so ready for more.
“My own shining knight.” Molly grins at Fjord’s groan. “Jester is jealous now.”
IV
A study on Mollymauk Tealeaf, part 2:
Bloodied scimitars on his hands. One kill on his shoulders. The biting cold of a spell seeping into his bones. Missing friends and a nagging fear on his tongue. A stupid plan that will get them all killed. Keg, Beau, Caleb, Nott. The pain of his own blood maledict. Fear in his veins as everything begins to fail miserably. The scrape of a blade against his skin, a last attempt. A man towering above him. He hasn’t learned a goddamn lesson in his life, and no slaver will make a lesson out of him. Respect. Blood in his mouth; he spits it oug. Respect. Eyes as red as blood that never close. R e s p e c t. Yasha, Jester and Fjord still locked in those cages. RESPECT. A last furious, defiant thought.
V
He’s not, after all, immortal. Molly hopes Fjord was right. Molly hopes Lorenzo and all the Iron Shepherds die screaming because of him, in fucking terrible agony. Molly hopes he’s an ill omen. Molly hopes no one dares to take his own death from him. He picked his fate, and he isn't about to give it up.
VI
Side note about living on borrowed time:
It sucks too.
VII
Molly walks into the tavern knowing all the eyes are on him, flashy Tiefling who’s offering a strange and possibly dangerous opportunity for fun. Small cities are all the same: unveiled hatred towards him, demon that he is, and unveiled need for adventures.
He puts the fliers on the hands of these bored and boring people, Yasha trailing after him, his reliable second shadow, and grins broadly. Speaks loud and clear about this circus, his circus. It’s a welcome routine by now.
When he notices the strange group—positively too weird and too restless for a miserable city like this tiny and bland Trostenwald—Molly knows this is a chance he can’t miss. It's not often that he just happens to find the perfect crowd. He makes his gaudy way towards them, grin as sharp as people think a throwing knife actually is. Yasha, terrifying and quiet like only she can be, follows, hand twitching to her sword. Molly can to outshine her presence and sell the show. He must, of course. But in his coat, jewels, boots and flair, he knows he can convince them to go to the circus. Easy sell, with faces like these.
“Well,” Molly begins. He’s part of the show right now, “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a group of people more in need of a good time in my entire life.”
VIII
A list of things that will never be done—a study in Mollymauk Tealeaf, part 3:
Mess with Fjord using Summer’s Dance.
Find a way to check how the people from the circus are doing.
Find more beautiful and colorful flowers for Yasha.
SAVE HIS FRIENDS FROM SLAVERS.
KILL LORENZO AND ALL THE IRON SHEPHERDS.
See the ocean for the first time—everyone says it’s very beautiful.
IX
Gustav smiles to him, this edge of alcohol-damp joy and sincerity in his lips. Even Desmond seems cheerful enough. It feels like a night to celebrate. Well, fuck it, Molly knows it’s a night to celebrate: for the first time in what Bo tells him it’s literal years, the circus has made ridiculous amounts of money. Everyone is giggly and excited, passing a bottle of gold-brown booze around, little Toya properly sent to bed with freakish amounts of candy. He can feel the thrill of it running beneath his skin like liquid fire. The alcohol helps a lot, if he has to be honest.
“Let’s drink more!” Yuli—Molly is almost sure it’s Yuli, he’s still not that good at telling the twins apart—roars, delightfully dazed and leaning on her sister.
Ornna claps, throwing her head back, laughing and making a show of tossing the booze to Bo. In the half-light of the few weak candles they have and in the smoky tent, Molly can feel the sound echoing in his bones. Gustav begins to look around for another bottle. They’re drinking too much and will have to buy more soon, but it doesn’t matter, because there’s money for it. They have money for a lot of things now, even into the winter. It’s the best and most powerful and maddest he has ever felt. Yasha’s absence doesn’t sting too much for once.
After, Molly does wake up with a terrible hungover. It’s definitively worth it.
X
Side note about Mollymauk Tealeaf:
Well, fuck you too.