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“This is completely, one hundred percent your fault.”
“Funny, I was just going to say that if it hadn’t been for you firing that exploding arrow too close, we wouldn’t be stuck like this.”
“We would’ve been fine if you, Fjord, had any sense of coordination and didn’t trip over your own feet.”
“I only tripped because you weren’t looking where you were going and ran into me , Nott!”
“It’s not my fault you’re a big, bumbling buffoon!”
“Yeah, well, you’re a reckless idiot!”
Their argument fizzles out into irritated grumbling and desperate attempts to not make eye contact with the other, which is quite difficult when the two are currently chest-to-chest, limbs entangled, stuck in a pile of rocks that caved in on them after a (poorly placed, as Fjord would say) exploding arrow of Nott’s. It had missed one of the monsters the group had been fighting and struck the ceiling instead. Thankfully, only Nott and Fjord fell victim to the resulting debris, and the muffled sounds the fight continuing on outside filter in through slight cracks in the rocks.
The group would come for them eventually, but they had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment. Who knows how long they will have to wait like this, with more of their bodies touching than either would ever be caught dead allowing if not for the fact that they are trapped and unable to move, but each moment that passes feels like an eternity in this small, enclosed space.
“Can’t you use a spell that lets you teleport?” Nott asks after a moment, squirming as she tries to move her arms and see if she can push or grab hold of something. “I’ve seen you do it before.”
“I’m out of spells,” Fjord says through gritted teeth, highly aware of every single place where Nott’s body is touching his as she moves against him.
Nott scoffs, her yellow eyes shining in the darkness and very visible to Fjord as she rolls them in annoyance. “Typical, you’re useless.”
His chest puffs out in anger, and Nott is reminded of how much he has filled out since he emerged wet and dripping from the Wildmother’s seaweed cocoon.
“Do you have any way of getting us out of this?”
“I’m thinking.”
“So, no, you don’t.”
“Shut up.”
Another beat of silence. A blast from the fight the earth, causing the rocks sealing them in to shift and cage them in further, and they both hiss in pain as the sharp corners scrape against them.
Something pointy and soft rubs against Fjord’s nose.
“Is that your ear?”
“What, this?” She does something and the ear moves again, tickling him. He scrunches his nose, holding back a sneeze.
“Yes, that.”
“That’s my ear, yep.”
“Are you… wiggling your ears?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Can you not move your ears?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Try.”
“Um, alright,”
Fjord concentrates for a moment and wills his ears to move. Nott starts to cackle.
“...You made me do that just to look stupid, didn’t you.”
“You bet.” She announces, pleased with herself. Fjord sighs.
“Your tusks have grown quite a bit,” Nott comments suddenly.
“Oh, uh,” Fjord stutters and his lips purse to rub against the teeth, a force of habit from his youth that came back. Nott tracks the movement with her eyes. “Yeah, I suppose they have.”
“It suits you,” Nott says and then blinks, like she too is surprised at what came out of her.
“Well thank you kindly,” Fjord raises an eyebrow. “You really like sharp and pointy things, huh?”
Nott grins, exposing her own row of sharpened teeth. “And big things, too.”
Maybe it’s the rapidly decreasing oxygen supply, or maybe it’s the way Nott’s hand got shifted to rest on top of Fjord’s chest, but her claws have started to scrape ever so lightly against his skin, and Fjord hasn’t asked her to stop.
“One of these days you might take on something that’s too big for you to handle.”
“Maybe,” she says, and was it them moving closer, or were the rocks pressing in on them? “But I doubt it.”
They’re looking at each other, two sets of yellow eyes illuminated in the darkness, and for what is probably the first time since Fjord and Nott met each other they are not trading insults or arguing, and something else has slid in to occupy that space. Something… different.
There’s shouting nearby and the sounds of rocks scraping together as their teammates start the laborious process of digging them out. The movement causes some rocks to slip free and fall on top of them, making it much harder to breathe.
“Hang on in there!” Beau’s voice seeps through the cracks.
“You know, this isn’t nearly as bad as drowning,” Nott says.
Fjord flinches and grips Nott’s hip in a show of comfort. “We’re going to get out of here, Nott.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she dismisses flippantly. “Caleb will get save us in no time.”
“This hasn’t been so bad.”
“It hasn’t. I’ve been in worse situations.”
“You do have a talent for getting yourself in trouble.”
“You as well, cherub boy. Remember the snapping turtle?”
Fjord shudders. “Don’t remind me. You got tied up in that as well. And with the Halas clone.”
“He got you, too!
“Funny how it’s always the two of us together winding up like this…”
“Huh…”
There’s a rumble as heaps of the rocks are removed from above them, and the first slivers of light start to filter through. In the remaining minutes it takes for the rest of the Mighty Nein to free their buried teammates, Nott and Fjord wait in silence, grimacing with every painful scrape. When finally the last layer is pealed off, it makes a moment as the blood rushes back to their limbs and feeling returns before they can move, and in the daylight they can see the position they ended up in—Nott tucked into Fjord’s chest with her arms and legs wrapped up in his.
They barely have a moment to take it all in before their friends are descending upon them and calling out in worry. The familiar healing warmth of Jester and Caduceus soothes their aching muscles and washes away the bruises and scratches littering their skin. Caleb scoops up Nott in a fierce hug, gently chastising her, the worry in his voice easy to hear. Jester and Caduceus help Fjord stand and steady him on his shaky legs. The group has been in much more dire straits, so after a few minutes of fussing and gathering themselves, they hit the road once more.
It was really a minor incident, all things considered. Other than Beau trying (and failing) to make some rock puns, no one lingers on it for too long. But Nott and Fjord’s eyes keep finding their way back to each other, a look of that something from before. It would almost be a nice thing shared between the two of them, were it not these two. Because she is Nott and he is Fjord, it quickly devolves into jokes at the other’s expense and attempts at tripping each other as they walk. (Nott succeeds and Fjord falls flat on his face.)
“Still clumsy as ever,” Nott mocks as she looks down at him in the dirt.
“And you’re still too arrogant for your own good,” Fjord says, and Nott's brows pinch together in confusion. Then too fast for even her to react, he reaches out to yank her down beside him.
Fjord enjoys a triumphant grin of his own as Nott wheezes, the wind knocked out of her.
“It seems I’ve rendered you speechless.”
Nott half heartedly hurls a handful of dirt at him, which he easily dodges. They’re both still lying in the dirt, Nott on her back and Fjord rolled onto his side, hoisting himself up on one hand to look down at Nott. The group initially ignored their shenanigans as par for the course, but they’ve noticed that the two haven’t returned yet.
They ignore them, though, and Fjord says, “I never thought I’d see the day where I managed to one-up Nott the Brave.”
Nott glares at him. “Please, this is nothing. I’ll be sure to get you back for this.”
“I really hope you do.” Fjord smiles, and Nott reaches out to poke one of his tusks.
“You can count on it.”