Chapter Text
It starts out innocently enough. Caleb mentions something called struzel, or so Jester thinks it ought to be spelled the first time she hears it. She nearly asks what it is, but then the conversation shifts and she can’t quite find a moment to ask him, and then it falls out of her brain for a while. It doesn’t return until they’re in a bakery in Rosohna and she sees a word written on a placard. Streusel. It trips a wire in her brain, even with the correct spelling, and she buys the little cake almost without thinking.
Just to try it. See what it tastes like…as if it might give her some kind of clue about Caleb. As if she can puzzle him out just by knowing what his favorite cake tastes like. It’s strange and crumbly, and Jester isn’t sure she’ll like it, but cake is cake, so she takes it home and tries it gamely.
As it turns out, Zemnian-style baking and Nicodrani baking aren’t all that different; the soft, crumbly bits on the top of the cake burst with cinnamon and sugar, and something else. Butter, Jester thinks as she licks a bit of it off her thumb. The cake underneath is fluffy and moist, with a thick stripe of cinnamon filling between the layers.
It makes sense, she muses as she pops the last little bit of it in her mouth, wiping her hands on her dress. Caleb is kind of like that—a little intimidating, at first, a little strange. But once you get used to his routines and his foibles and his quirks, he’s often sweeter than expected. Sweet and sharp and fiery...Thoughtful. Always making sure she’s alright. Making sure she gets to see her mom, making sure she finds the best sweets. He listens to her, he believes in her…
Do you even realize how fucking stupid that sounds, Jester thinks to herself. Caleb is as nice to her as he is anyone else, and it’s dumb of her to think she’s any different to him than their other friends. And after all, he’s probably still in love with Astrid. Someone Jester’s never met but still manages to have strong feelings about. How could someone like Jester ever compare to someone strong and powerful and important to Caleb as Astrid is?
Suddenly the aftertaste of streusel tastes bitter, and Jester digs through the icebox for the milk, takes a long drink straight from the bottle to try and wash the taste out.
“Traveler,” she murmurs. “Do you think it’s easier to just be alone? Because I hate being alone, but sometimes it seems...better. Smarter.”
The Traveler does not answer. Jester puts the milk away and leans over the kitchen sink, looking out the window over the sprawling garden outside, left to form her own conclusions.