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As a child, Essek had been “reserved,” and “independent.” A model of ideal temperament and behavior among the few peers he had in the Dynasty. The pressure to perform—to prove themselves, to catch the eye of those in power and secure an invitation into a powerful den—fostered fierce competition. His demeanor did not earn him any friends.
As a young man he had been “solitary” and “ambitious.” By then his peers had begun to match him in ruthlessness. With so much time and energy spent getting a figurative leg up on one another, he had been surprised when he learned that they were also performing some much more literal interpretations of the phrase. His own experimentation with sex and romance had been informative and confusing in equal measure. Enjoyable enough with the right partner—he liked men—but he had sought out these experiences due to curiosity; not whatever force seemed to be driving his peers. Once his curiosity had been satisfied, he found no compelling reason to continue. He suspected that love, which seemed to so infatuate others, was simply not in his nature.
Too aloof for friendship and too dispassionate for love, he had grown into a lonely adult.
Now, though, he was unmoored. The Mighty Nein had, for reasons still incomprehensible to him, deemed him worthy of salvaging. Barged into his life and set him adrift in a sea of experiences and emotions he had no way to contextualize: profound gratitude, affection, loyalty, and a deep sense of kinship. After a lifetime spent in layers of isolation, it was disorienting. Like teleporting into a sunny day from the safe darkness of Roshona and trying to perceive anything besides blinding light.
This, he reflected, was the crux of his problem. Only recently had his soul adjusted to the intimacies of friendship. Only now had he gained the ability to sense any difference between that and the familiarity he shared with Caleb. His feelings toward Caleb were, to a degree, intertwined with his feelings for the rest of their party. But they were also different. Both in intensity, and on a qualitative dimension he was certain he hadn’t felt before. Was this what other people felt when they said they were in love? It seemed the most likely explanation, but a single data point collected after 120 years of no input did not inspire confidence. How was he supposed to make sense of this?
The last time he had spoken with Caduceus, it had been in the Blooming Grove on “Meeting Caduceus Day.” One of several holidays the Mighty Nein celebrated together on Jester’s insistence. Although he had not been witness to the original “Meeting Caduceus Day,” the rest of the party had naturally embraced his presence just as much as any other member’s. Upon their departure, Caduceus had reaffirmed his standing offer of any assistance they needed, as long as it was of the non-adventurous variety.
Essek sat in his room in the tower, running his thumb back and forth over the corner of his spell book. The magically-protected pages flipped against each other in a steady rhythm as he made the decision to take Caduceus up on his offer. No adventures; just advice. If Caduceus had brushed up on his Sending and didn’t have anything important to do today, the two of them could have a decent conversation. But how did one even start a conversation like this? With Caleb he could communicate in sidelong implication, but the parameters of the Sending spell required brevity. Wracking his brain for how to summarize his conundrum in 25 words, his mind supplied him with an idea presented in Jester’s voice. He chuckled. Her approach may indeed work best here.
Good morning, Caduceus. How do I know if I’m in love?
…Essek?...
The palpable confusion from Caduceus and the pause in the middle of his return message had Essek at once desperately nervous and mildly amused. Jester would be proud.
This was… an interesting choice to ask me. I’d like to help but I don’t know if I have the experience to answer you
Essek understood that it would have made more sense to ask Fjord, or Beau, or Veth, or Yasha—really anyone else could probably help him with this. For some reason, though, he had thought to come to Caduceus. He hadn’t processed why until now.
I’m aware it seems strange. But I think—thought—we are… alike in a certain way. I have my own experience. It’s wisdom I need.
Ah, well that I can do: People who ask that question usually ask it because they already know the answer
It is… challenging to reconcile. How to name a subjective experience when I have no comparison?
I think the best you can do is be open to your own experiences. Labels are a tool. And there are lots of types of love…
Caduceus continued—
Self-love, familial love, love of community, of friends; erotic love, obsessive love, affectionate love, selfless love—lots. Sometimes they overlap and get mixed together.
Essek considered this while Caduceus composed his next message. It made sense that there were different types of love—ones he had experienced, even. Of course his feelings for Caleb were muddled up with his feelings toward the Mighty Nein—they were partially-overlapping expressions of the same phenomenon. He had long suspected he was simply not capable of love, but that wasn’t the case, was it? He loved Jester, and Beau, and Yasha—he loved all of the Mighty Nein. And he certainly loved Caleb.
People can experience any combination—not feel some; only feel others once in a lifetime—it doesn’t always stay constant. It’s variety that makes us unique.
This too made a tremendous amount of sense. So much so that Essek wondered how he’d never encountered this concept before. Hearing it laid out so plainly by Caduceus was like discovering a missing element to an existential spell—an equation that, once solved, could throw the nature of its magic into stark relief. In 50 words, Caduceus had managed to perfectly reconcile his past and present experiences.
Some people gravitate more towards certain types, but it’s all still love. Putting a name on it doesn’t change its nature. Or to put it another way…
…The type of love you’re feeling might not matter as much as you think it does. If you think you love Caleb—
—Who said it’s Caleb?
This he deadpanned before Caduceus’ follow up came through
—You probably do. As long as you communicate, you can build your relationship around what you both want instead of fussing over semantics.
Essek did not respond to this last message. Instead, he let it play in his head several times over, the raw truth of it deepening each time. He made a mental note to send up a commendation of Caduceus to Melora when he had the chance. He had never been one for religion, but Caduceus did his patron immense credit.
What did he want? He wanted to be with Caleb. He wanted to live together just like they had been. He wanted to share good books and bad ideas. He wanted to hold his face and kiss him on the lips. He wanted to share in the pleasures of sex with someone he loved.
Thank you, Caduceus. You are a good friend.
You’re welcome, Essek. I love you too.