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“Do you ever want the things you know you don't deserve?”
The human stands in front of him, so obviously rattled or drunk or sick or something that the human, this human, that Caleb Widogast has never been before, other than that one time they did almost all get arrested (or realistically, almost murdered)- he looks sad. More sad than usual, even when he tries to hide it.
Essek twists the rest of the way to face him head-on again.
'Do you, Mr. Widogast', is so obviously the leading question that the human expects so Essek doesn't give him that. What he does give him, after a moment of consideration, of real heavy consideration, is his address.
“Do you have it?” He asks, fully ready to humor him and repeat it again, wait for the human to frantically pull out paper of any kind, but Mr. Widogast just nods. “Then I have a meeting to get to. If you excuse me.”
He doesn't spare it much thought past that. It was more of a in-case-of-emergencies thing. A pity move. A total pity move.
So when Mr. Widogast rings his door at two in the morning, he's at a bit of a loss.
His staff is already retired for the night, just a few guards left on the grounds including the one standing behind the human holding out his medallion with wide eyes and very distinct worry and confusion. Essek waves him off and puts a hand on the human's shoulder.
“Herr Thelyss.” His voice is gruff, so he clears his throat and says it again. “You really do float.”
Essek looks down at the ground, at the human's filthy boots and at his own bare feet where they hover a few inches off of the ground. Of course, he wasn't wearing his cloak.
“Is it that hard to believe?” He asks and moves away from the door to let Caleb the rest of the way in.
“Not for you.”
It's dark in his manor, because it's meant to be, at two in the morning. He's fairly certain Caleb, with his pathetic human eyes, can't see the blush blooming up his neck.
They end up in bed, in his bed, and they kiss. What he thought was going to end up being frantic is so slow and so drawn out, Essek has to wonder if Caleb even remembers who he's laying next to. He tastes like something earthy, and something cheap probably bought out in the wastes.
“What did you ask me earlier?” He allows himself to be pulled into Caleb's lap, pushing his magic through his legs until they are on either side of him in a way that Essek hoped looked natural, not that it matters. There's no shame here, not in front of a human who is so obviously with them that even implying that Caleb could turn tail and run back to the Empire is laughable.
“If you want things you know you don't deserve.” Caleb kisses his neck, hands that are rough and warm run up his sides. “It- It doesn't matter-”
“I was just curious what brought something like that on.”
Caleb just kisses him instead.
He gets undressed to the waist, the remainder of the jewelry from the day before clattering on the stone floor along with his tunic.
“The people I knew- They were-” Caleb swallows slowly, and Essek catches his face in his hands, not letting him get distracted with something so trivial and pressing rough kisses to the side of his neck. “Cruel.”
“Mm.” He hums and gives him the satisfaction of kissing again, short stubby tongue brushing along sharp teeth. “I would assume as much. It takes a lot to defect.”
Caleb makes a face and lets Essek pry his shirt off. The scars on his arms are evident, familiar to the scourger in the cell, and Essek can't stop himself from running fingers over them. Essek knew he was lying earlier, but this is-
It's useful.
If it was anyone else maybe, he'd feel less guilty about remembering that for later, but Caleb really is like a kicked animal.
“And what did you want?”
“It's not-” Caleb presses his face into Essek's chest and breathing him in. “Appealing.” It comes out mumbled, so Essek tilts his head down and presses a kiss into Caleb's messy hair.
“Don't presume to know me, Mr. Widogast.”
“I-”
The realization that he's in another man's bad must finally be dawning on him, but instead of the expected 'This was a mistake' or a rushed scramble to get away from him that Essek's somewhat embarrassingly familiar with is replaced with the human's thin shoulders sagging with what can only be exhaustion.
He doesn't need to remind him that anything Caleb says will most likely end up in the Bright Queen's ear.
“I wanted to kill her.” Essek stared straight ahead, a hand settled on Caleb's spine. “I don't even know her name, and I wanted to cave her skull in, just to be sure- just to be sure that I was safe- that I was away from them.”
“And yet you asked for her stay to be extended.”
“Stay.” Caleb laughs, a sharp bark of a thing that really makes this entire thing sad. Sadder. “Ja- I wanted it to hurt, just-” He pulls away and rubs his hands together, and Essek feels the warmth of a spell already. “Just fire in the room until there was nothing left to feed it.”
He could ask a lot of questions.
Why didn't you? Why are you here? Why did you bother asking me anything in the first place? Why are you here, in a room of a stranger you barely know instead of with your friends who obviously love you? A million moments, a million possibilities.
“And what don't you deserve?” Is what he lands on, and the way the human's eyes light up for just a second sends a chill down Essek's spine. “A little bit of cruelty to those who hurt us- I can't think of anything we are more entitled to.”
His face twists, and for a moment Essek really is blinded by him.
“I want to be a good person.” He says. And then, a moment later, “I don't know why I'm tell you this, I don't know why I'm here.”
“Do you want to leave?” And go home to your gaudy tree and your gaudy house and your gaudy band of heroes?
“Nien.” There's a shake of the head to accompany it. “I want-” Another shake of the head. “I want so much I'm not allowed to have.”
“So tell me. I'm a neutral third party, I won't spill your secrets. Why sit in all of that?”
He expects an argument, or again, that nervous 'I have to go.', but instead Caleb Widogast talks, tells him about how desperately he wants love when he doesn't deserve and how desperately he wants to do violence and doesn't deserve it and how bone achingly he wants the guilt, the nebulous unspecific evidently too secret guilt, to leave him alone.
“Do you want to know a secret?” Essek asks, after, when he's practically panting with the tears. “When I was younger, the last head of Den Thelyss didn't like me.”
“You don't have to quid pro quo me.”
“I've never told anyone this story.” He continues. “And I'm not going to tell anyone about how much of a monster you think you are, or how you obviously worked for the same people that girl in the jail cell worked for, or how badly you want your friends to adore you even though you dream about burning a man with a flame so hot there isn't even ash left.” Caleb stares, wide-eyed. “And I want you to know that, even after today, I won't tell anyone that obviously useful information, because I'm going to tell you a story I've never told anyone else before.”
“Oh.”
“When I was younger, the last head of Den Thelyss didn't like me.” He repeats and leans back as far as he can, until he slides off of Caleb's legs and it becomes abundantly obvious and all too hard to hide that his own don't work anymore. “He thought I was arrogant, and entitled, and that his own son would be Shadowhand, because that's how it has always been.”
“He's not here anymore.”
“No.” Essek laughs. “He was cruel. Just like the people who hurt you were. There wasn't a greater purpose here, he just hated the fact that I was in his Den at all. And one day, while he gave me a servent's job of retailing the roof with some thinly veiled excuse of discipline, he thought it would be a fun game to play to see how well I could land if he pushed me off.”
The sound his body made when he did eventually land on the ground after what felt like an eternity in free fall is always so close in his mind.
There's a sharp inhale, and for a moment he really doesn't know who it comes out of.
“And what did you do?” He asks.
“Spent a long time with a cleric. But a long time with a cleric trying to unshatter my vertebrae was also a long time with my books.” He twists his hand and motes shift off, lighting the space around them in the light blues he always found so calming. “The cleric didn't, by the way, fix very much of anything.”
He's sure a lesser man would have apologized.
“And you pushed him off of the roof?”
Essek laughs than in earnest, leans a little forward, maybe a move that was too familiar for someone he had really only just met, and rubs his face against Caleb's neck again. Different, less charged, just the joy of skin to skin contact.
“He's still in the cell next to prisoner you saw today. Barely a slip of a man now, but the Bright Queen allowed me one great ask to ensure my loyalty, and I wanted to hurt those who hurt me just the same. The fall wasn't- the crack wasn't the worst of it really, it was the monotony, of lying there and wondering if I'd ever get to walk again, if I'd ever get to be outside again, if I ever got to see another person again.”
There's a twitch of familiarity, maybe, on Caleb's face that he marks away for later, maybe something to ask if they ever end up in each other's beds again.
“And she let you just- no questions?”
“Shadowhands are dangerous.” He contorts his body, just a push of magic to help his legs along, even if he still needs to adjust them with his hands to be comfortable. “We know so very many things.”
He puts most of his weight on Caleb, back to chest, and stares up at him, watches the motes settle onto his pale skin.
“And the son?”
“Oh.” Essek smiles up at him until he catches Caleb's eyes. “Him I did push off the roof.”