Chapter Text
It was their first Winter, here at Hieronymous Wiggenstaff’s school of Heroism and Villany, and to be honest, Argo wasn’t really sure what he expected.
At sea, winter just entailed shorter days and slightly frigid air. Maybe those days he’d spend time below deck, snug in his hammock with some whiskey and lime to keep him warm. It wasn’t ever really a problem, and seeing as he was pretty used to going anywhere he wanted in the world (quite literally, after his mother stopped deciding, near the end. He swore to the Gods he’d never get scurvy, not after what he’d seen.) But basically, he kind of expected winter to be kind of like spring break-- a free week where they could do what they wanted, maybe earn a pretty penny between semesters, and campus would kind of thin out as students went home, went out, and explored.
Argo wasn’t really sure what he expected. But he didn’t expect this.
He didn’t really know much about Firbolgs, so maybe it was his fault for not researching it or digging into it further. But, sure enough, on the 21st of December, the Firbolg was unconscious.
Not the regular kind of unconscious. He was laying on Argo’s bed, as well, which was odd. If he’d wanted a bed he probably could have asked one of the Wiggenstaffs, or… something. His side of the room was made almost entirely of leaves and rocks, and given that that was usually his preference, this was… weird.
Not even tapping him on the back, rocking him, or speaking to him seemed to do the trick. It was all kind of weird. They’d had a conversation just that morning, like everything was normal. Well, not too normal.
The three of them had been sitting over breakfast, Fitzroy with his crepes and the Firbolg with an omelet of sorts, when the Firbolg brought up that he’d been finding bodies of animals littered outside the edge of The Unknown Forest. Something about a strange white patching on their fur, covering their little heads. Fitzroy had changed the topic to something about Buckminster and Rainer, and that was that.
In a moment of paranoia, Argo pulled up Bud’s hair, making sure there were no white markings. Nope. He was breathing fine, but just low and sedated. He was usually such a light sleeper...
Argo messaged Fitzroy on the notebook of farspeech, a small note in his scrawly handwriting. Hey, something’s up w/ Firby .
Fitzroy, who definitely was in class, responded almost instantly. He is probably hibernating. It is that time of year, after all. Send him my wishes xo - Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Knight in Absentia of the Realm of Goodcastle
Hibernating? He looked over at the Firbolg. Do they hibernate? Argo had only really heard of bears doing that. This whole thing was kind of weird. He looked once more over Fitzroy’s note, his delicate cursive very clearly coming from a feather quill. Argo sighed at the pretentiousness of it all. You don’t have to sign your name . He didn’t get a reply for that one.
So, Argo took out his books and did his work on the floor of Fitz’s room. He was going to use his space, but like. Occupied. And Firby’s side of the room was all dirty, and Fitzroy was always so clean, and he had so much room…
That’s where Fitzroy found him, about half an hour later, half asleep with note cards scattered across the floor and Blame Taking 101 open on his lap.
“Argo?” He asked, and Argo jolted up, turning around to see him.
The thing with Fitz is that his hair was never the same, day to day. The curls made their own pattern, and that was always the first thing Argo noticed upon seeing him. Today they were hanging over his gold-rimmed glasses, almost in his eyes. Argo always wore his hair up for a reason, hair in the eyes was a major pain in the ass.
“Argo. Hey, snap out of it,” Fitzroy asked, waving a hand in front of his face.
“Hey, uh, sorry, I--” Argo started, but a loud and nasally voice drew both of their attentions.
“Attention students! It’s me, Gary!” Argo winced at the way he sounded. Fitzroy winced as well, but for a slightly different reason. He hated that the Gary was always there, and could always hear anything. It was intrusive, to say the least. And he could interrupt any conversation he felt like, which was what seemed to be happening as they spoke.
“There’s been several reports of a strange white fungus comin’ outta the canyon lately. It’s uh, it’s killin’ a lot of animals, and word on the streets is it’s hit Last Hope. I’m pretty sure uh, some folks there have been having issues with it, and uh. The hospital’s a bit overrun, so we’re giving them a Wiggenstaff’s Welcome.” Argo looked over at Fitzroy. His look of near disgust was pretty apparent.
“There’s some patients in the nurse’s office, and until everything is cleaned up, we’re asking all students to stay in their dorms until further notice. If there’s anything you need, ask me, your Gary! It shouldn’t be too long, don’t worry about it. Just uh, know we’re on it. No need to worry. Gary out.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Fitzroy said, walking over to the window. Argo followed him with his eyes, cogs in his brain turning.
So. They weren’t allowed out, huh.
“Well, they said it wouldn’t be long, right? And it’s not like we were gonna have classes anymore, it bein’ break and all,” Argo said. Fitzroy shot him a look.
It wasn’t like he had intended to go home, really. His parents weren’t the uh, Candlenights type. They’d usually be away on vacation anyway, and Fitzroy would have the house to himself again. So like. Just another day.
But that said, he didn’t like the opportunity being taken from him either. The dorm felt more like a prison than it had in a while.
“I’ve got some whiskey and fantasy Uno. And besides, maybe it’ll just be a day or so,” Argo said with a smile. He began packing up his notecards, sliding them into pages in his textbook. “And didn’t you bring chess?”
“I’m not playing chess with you ,” Fitzroy muttered, still looking out the window. Argo’s face curled up at his tone.
“Alright, suit yourself,” he said. He almost sounded dejected, but Fitzroy was too distracted to analyze that right now. He wondered how long this was going to last.
The first full day was quiet. Argo stayed in his and the Firbolg’s room during the day, his sketchbook pulled out on his lap. He liked crafting, truth be told. It wasn’t something he could do often, especially out at sea. Materials were hard to come by, and whatever paper or ink they found was a bit of a scarcity. It was nice to be able to hold a paper notebook and just draw whatever he wanted. He wasn’t all that good at it, but that’s not what really brought him to create. It was more out of something to do with his busy hands.
Fitzroy spent the day in his room, mostly looking out the window.
There weren’t any curtains. Argo had turned them into silly outfits for himself and the Firbolg, and while at the time he’d found it annoying, it was grating even more right about now. The light bathed everything in a harsh golden glow, reminding him he wasn’t even able to go outside. And, being on the sword coast, it wasn’t like it was even chilly or winter-y at all. It was just a sticky kind of unpleasant warmness.
As soon as the sun set, Fitzroy found himself fighting off a trance. The sheer amount of boredom from just one single day was enough to make him want to go to sleep around 7:30. He stretched, checking his pocketwatch with a sigh. Well. What else was there to do?
He woke up around midnight with the urge to go to the restroom. He stretched his arms, walking through the other boys’ rooms, opening the door to their private en suite.
Argo was asleep in the bathtub.
“Wh--” Fitzroy rubbed at his eyes, making sure he wasn’t dreaming. Sure enough, Argo was lying there, fully clothed and half-submerged in water.
Fitzroy crouched down next to the bathtub, staring at him in confusion. Was he drowning? Did the man finally snap? Was this where he was going every night? Surely that last one couldn’t be it. Fitzroy trusted his intuition, and if it told him that the genasi was sneaking off to do something of the ‘sketchy’ variety, he most likely was. Fitzroy offered a slight kick to the bathtub.
“H-w--” Argo stuttered, jolting up. “Fitzroy?”
“Yes, believe it or not, it is your roommate, in your shared bathroom. Could you do me a favor and leave now?”
Argo rubbed his eyes. He’d planned on sleeping in his bed, as per usual, but with the Firbolg that proved not to be an option. The man was over 7 feet-- trying to move him wasn’t exactly in Argo’s abilities at the moment. And to take his leaf bed felt both like an intrusion of privacy and like the most uncomfortable place to be at the moment. If he hadn’t used the curtains to make outfits, maybe he could’ve made a hammock or something, but… well. He figured that water was about the closest he could come to feeling at home, and if he sunk too low he could always use his gills anyway.
Fitzroy was standing over him with a look of disgust, though, and that simply wouldn’t do.
Argo reached over, pulling the shower curtain closed. “Nope,” he muttered, sinking lower into the water. He faintly heard Fitzroy scoff.
“I need to take a leak, and frankly I’m not comfortable with you being here for that.”
“Learn to be,” Argo muttered, his eyes sliding shut. Fitzroy grumbled something about just holding it and left the room.
Argo fell into a restless sleep then, the angle of his neck against the bathtub intensely uncomfortable.
But if that was his options, that was his options.
Fitzroy sat on his king sized bed, eyes clouded over mid trance.
At that point, so early on, they didn’t know the months that awaited them.