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Maybe it’s the too-blue sky or the sun-bleached walls. Maybe its the mingling smells of a hundred stalls selling candied fruit, wines, or grilled squid skewered on sticks. Maybe it’s the heat.
Caduceus isn’t sure, but whatever it is, it’s hurting his head.
Maybe, he considers, maybe it’s the entire city, alive and thrumming with song and dance, banners and stalls. Maybe it’s all just a bit too much.
He considers it as he wanders behind the Nein, listening to them shout about the festivities going on around them. Jester stops at a cart, still chattering away, and hands over copper pieces in exchange for garlands of flowers to wear. She dances around in a flurry, settling them on everyone’s bowing heads (except Veth, who stands on tiptoes as Jester places the orange-gold blooms atop her dark hair). Caduceus stoops low, and lets her fix his to his sunhat.
“Aw,” he says, even though he’s dizzy when he stands again. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome!” Jester grins, and beckons them after her, towards the sea.
The coastline below is bustling, filled with more people than Caduceus has ever seen in one place. In the harbour, sleek boats with huge, colourful sails are gathering, readying for some sort of…something.
As if by answer a voice rings out from the pier — Noon! they cry, amplified somehow. Boat race at noon! Get your bets in!!
“Boat race,” Caduceus echos.
Fjord’s pointed ears twitch up at that. “Ooh,” he replies, in a considering sort of way.
They keep on moving as Jester shouts above the laughing, chattering and music, cheeks blushed purple, eyes excited — something about a treat she wants everyone to try. She dances around in a swirling white cotton dress with coral pink details on the flowing sleeves. She wears a bow on her tail and extra flowers in her hair.
Fjord looks a little smitten, until Beau elbows him. And then he’s pretending a shop sign is very interesting.
Caduceus laughs, and tries to ignore the ache that stops it short. There’s a pressure deep within his temples, he realises slowly. Too much squinting in the unbroken sun, maybe. But he smiles at Jester when she passes him a piece of dried mango, and dances side to side when she holds his hand.
“You look so cute, with your hat and everything,” Jester says. “If I do say so myself.”
Caduceus looks down at himself as Jester leaves to dance with Beau. He’s got a new outfit on, chosen mostly by Jester — loose trousers with cuffs that sway wide just above his ankles, and a thin robe, that flows like his dragonfly silk and is patterned with repeating blockprints that remind him of ripples in a pond. Beneath it he wears a sage-green top that shows his stomach and a little more of his chest than he’s used to. Not that he’s particularly bothered, he’s just usually less exposed.
Besides, the top is one of Jester’s crochet projects, and he likes helping her with them, including trying things on when he can. It’s also pretty comfortable, and the breeze likes to tickle the exposed fur on his ribs, which is nice, because it’s gotten very hot as the morning’s gone on. Too hot, almost.
Despite that, he keeps his thin gloves on, for chewing. Even though his palms are warm. And he worries, absently, about how the fur on his midsection has gotten patchy.
That won’t do, he thinks, glancing at the pale skin beneath.
Need to take better care of yourself.
—
Eventually they arrive at the harbour square, where the stalls and celebrations line the water front. Folks sing and dance along the street, instruments in hand. Garlands drip with fragrant flowers and fruit. Lanterns hang in sunset-colours between buildings, not yet lit. That’s for the eveningtime, Caduceus supposes, for when it gets dark.
Almost as soon as they arrive everyone starts to split away from each other, drawn to all sorts of interesting things as they pass them by. Caleb lingers first, by a bookstall, hands already moving to look through the tomes there.
“Ah, I think...” he says, coming to a stop, “I think i’m going to stay and look at these for a while. Lots of good books here.”
“Sure, Caleb!” Jester grins. “Have fun looking at nerdy books.”
“Oh, I will,” he replies, not looking up from the book already in his hand.
“I’m going to go find Yeza and Luc,” Veth announces. “They said they’d be here soon.”
“Have fun!” Jester calls as she runs off, smiling at the rest of them. “Lets go dance! Or try a game! Maybe they have trebuchet here, Fjord.” She wiggles her eyebrows and Fjord turns dark teal.
“Absolutely not,” Fjord replies, indignant. “No thanks. I’m good.”
Jester laughs, elbowing him in the side. “I’m just joking with you.”
“I’d throw you again though, if you wanted,” Yasha says.
Fjord sighs, clearly giving up, and instead eyes the direction the sailboat race announcements are coming from. He meets beau’s determined look and she nods. He smiles, nods back.
“First mate,” He says, offering his arm.
Before he can say anything else Beau’s hooked her arm in his elbow and is dragging him off towards the boats, yelling a See ya as she goes.
“Okay then!” Jester says, clapping her hands together. “Let’s dance.”
She takes Caduceus’ hand, and then Yasha’s, and then they’re forming a circle and Caduceus has to slip his staff into the straps on his back. Together they spin, swaying to the jaunty tunes being played by the band that sits on the edge of a larger alcove. It’s dizzying, and fun, and all kinds of things. They spin until Jester stops them, so she can dance them around one at a time. She sways with Caduceus first, until he can’t keep up anymore. And then her and Yasha take each other in some made-up Jester-y version of a waltz and, despite Yasha’s bashful smile, dance into the crowd.
Caduceus watches for a while, just breathing, head still spinning. He feels a little like he stood up too quickly. So, maybe he’s hungry.
He goes looking for something good.
There’s a whole lot to choose from, he discovers, all around. And he’s not sure what to eat. He peers over the heads of strangers at unfamiliar fruit and candies that smell like rose and bread like pockets, and it all smells so nice that it smells like nothing at all and everything at once. And he’s not sure if he wants to eat anything anymore.
So, he thinks, so maybe he should just ask Jester.
She’ll… she knows what the best things are, like the dried mango that gets stuck in his teeth. Yeah.
But then Caduceus looks up again, at the colours and bluest-blue sky, and he’s really not sure where anyone’s gone. In fact, he’s on a street he doesn’t even really recognise. He peers around, easily looking over the heads of the folks surrounding, but still, everyone's wearing flowers.
Blues and greens and oranges everywhere. He can’t even spot Yasha.
And… and that’s alright, Caduceus thinks. He can wander. He’ll find them again at some point… Besides, he isn’t great at dancing. His too long limbs tend to get jumbled, and then he just feels silly, like a newborn fawn with less excuses for being so wobbly.
Instead, he keeps on walking up the road he’s already on. It grows steeper as it goes, winding up the cliffside, so Caduceus unties his staff from his back and leans on it.
His knees hurt.
And the sun’s so bright.
And the hill is steep in a way that’s unkind to his sore ankles, sore knees and everything else.
And then he’s too hot, tangled up in his robe and new trousers.
He holds his staff so tightly, and imagines, as he walks, that he’s pressing his forehead to the damp, familiar wood.
At the top of the slope Caduceus sits down, on a step at the edge of the street. He pulls his ears down, away from all the noise, and rocks slowly. Back-and-forth, back-and-forth. There’s relief in the swaying, and in the shade of the stall beside him that smells of oranges.
Until he’s shooed away by the shopkeep.
He’s sorry, he tells them, so sorry. And he’s not sure why they’re angry.
But then he’s thrown back to the sea of people, who keep looking at him. They move too quick and too slow and stink of a thousand different smells. All their conversations layer on top of each-other, jumbled beginnings overlapping the next word-end, getting tangled. Half—sentences all over. So loud.
And the sun is in his eyes. Glaring.
Caduceus reaches up, to pull his hat down a little more, and —
Oh no.
His hats gone, he realises, petting his hand across the top of his head, and he’s not sure where. But right then, it’s the worst feeling in the world, Caduceus decides, stomach sinking like stones in the river. His hat is gone and he wants to cry.
And his clothes are different than usual, material shifting differently over his fur, wrong-brushed. So he pulls the robe closed around himself and presses a palm to his chest as he mumbles a broken spell, because maybe it’ll help, just a little.
He cant concentrate, though, even as a wave of softness, of calm, passes over him. It comes and goes, dissipates just like breakers on the sand.
Caduceus tries it again.
It doesn’t take.
—
Somehow, he ends up beside a smooth stone wall, leant against it like when he was small and fever-tired. There’s an alcove to his left, beautiful tiles covering the inside in every shade of blue and green. Caduceus ducks into it, and curls up small as he sits on the cool stone, legs pulled up to his chest, his head pressed to knees. Hiding.
He hugs his staff close.
Pulls his ears.
Rocks back against the tiled wall in a way that hurts his spine each time it hits it.
Chews the hem of his glove.
Lets out a stressed whine through gritted teeth.
Maybe—
Maybe, he thinks, it’ll quieten down soon.
Until then... until then he’ll... stay here and—
He’ll just keep his eyes closed.
Yeah.
But the noise doesn’t stop, even though he prays. It only ebbs and flows. People move past him, skirts brushing his arm every now and again. Someone trips over his staff and swears at him.
Caduceus just shrinks further back into the alcove. And he lets himself turn invisible for a while, as he keeps on praying in a terrible, jumbled way that barely reaches anyone.
Still, the repetition helps some.
wildmother, please
wildmother, please
wildmother, please
He hums and listens for his beetles beneath the noise.
They’re too quiet.
wildmother, please
wildmother, please
wildmother, please
He hums. Hums more.
wildmother, please
wildmother, please
wildmother, please
Caduceus isn’t sure how long he sits there. It could easily be either no time at all or the whole afternoon. Everything just blends. And he hides, rocks, hides. But at some point his ears flick up, searching for the call of a familiar voice as it cuts through the white noise all around.
It’s— he almost recognises it. It’s getting nearer.
“Hey— Hey, Cad?” The voice sounds so worried, moving towards him. Sounds like Beau.
“Cad?” her voice repeats, closer now.
There’s a shuffling beside him, sandy dirt crunching beneath sandals, as Beau crouches and carefully places one hand on his shoulder.
He slows his rocking. His spine hurts.
“Cad?”
He stops pulling his hair to press his paws hard over his ears, because even though he likes Beau, everything is still too loud. Too much. A lot.
There’s a pause and then Beau’s making a shushing noise, rubbing circles with her thumb on his arm. “You’re shaking,” she says.
Caduceus thinks, maybe he could cry.
“Sorry.” Beau moves again, shifting where she crouches. “Do you want me to be quiet?”
Does he? All the noise is stabbing at his head like knives, overwhelming, like thunder all around, but Beau talking is one thing he can grasp, can hold onto. It’s.. grounding... Yeah. Grounding. And he can’t leave right now, even though he wants to. It’d make it easier, maybe, but it’s not a good habit to be in — that’s what Calliope said, so—
Caduceus shakes his head.
No, he wants to say, Please keep talking, please take me somewhere quiet. But he can’t. The words get caught in his throat and stick like too much bread, not chewed enough.
Maybe he needs a glass of water, to wash it all down.
“Okay,” Beau says. “Okay. Maybe... maybe we can go somewhere else? Somewhere less busy?” She pauses, keeps rubbing circles on his shoulder. “Where d’you wanna go?”
Caduceus can’t speak so he shakes his head again, shrugs with his forehead still pressed to his knees.
“That’s okay. Uh. How about...” Beau trails off and Caduceus imagines her craning her neck to look around. “Jester’s mum’s place? The Chateau? We can go round the back way… It’s quieter.”
Quieter, Caduceus wants to say, because that sounds nice. Quiet’s nice. A lot less sore on the ears. Less— less curling up in alcoves and getting in the way. Because that’s really not great. It’s a lot, and his head hurts and—
“Fucking watch it,” Beau yells, falling against him.
Caduceus startles, crying out through grinding teeth as she rights herself.
Too much. Too much.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Beau says. “Some idiot shoved me..” she trails off, a gasp almost hidden under the noise surrounding them both. “Aw, Cad.. I’m really sorry.”
One hand comes to rest on his back, over his shoulder blade, and starts rubbing bigger circles. Caduceus’ not sure why until he realises his shoulders are shaking, and he’s crying. Properly now.
Each shuddery breath sends hot tears dripping onto his knees. They land with no sound, leaving round blots on his trousers. Sometimes they overlap, connecting. Growing.
Caduceus doesn’t look up, doesn’t wipe his eyes.
He wants so badly to not be crying. So he stops grounding, and starts floating.
Like the spring and the sea, underwater.
“Pardon me,” a voice says, far away. “Are you two alright?”
Caduceus pulls his staff closer to his chest with hands that feel detached.
“Yeah. Thanks,” Beau replies, curt.
“Are you certain? I was told there was… a situation here….You don’t need any help?”
Beau sighs. “Yeah, no— just... I got it.”
“If you are sure...” says the voice, coastal accent thick. Their tone is suspicious, and they don’t believe Beau at all. Caduceus realises, probably, that the voice belongs to a zhelezo, who probably thinks he drank too much orange blossom wine. Something like that.
It makes him want to scream.
Instead he bites down on the scarred inside of his mouth.
“Nah, we’re good,” Beau assures them.
There’s a long pause. Caduceus can feel the zhelezo’s eyes on him.
“Don’t cause anymore trouble,” they say.
“We won’t,” Beau replies.
“Very well, then. Good day.”
And with that the voice and its footsteps leave, and Beau sighs a long, long sigh. “Gods...”
Caduceus flaps his ghost-hands besides his ears.
“Yeah,” Beau agrees. “Lets get the fuck out of here before any other zhelezo get up in our business… Can you stand up?”
Caduceus nods, head still against his knees, still staring at the rippling pattern in the shadow beneath his hair.
He stands slowly, with Beau holding onto his arm. He opens his eyes and closes them again as the bright sun glares, shimmering with thousands of colours.
“We gotta go up the street a tiny bit,” Beau says, “then there’s an alley we can cut through to get back to the Chateau.”
With nearly-closed eyes, Caduceus lets her lead him on wobbly legs through the busy street.
It’s still so bright he can barely open his eyes. He peers through his eyelashes, blurry and glimmering with sunlight reflecting off them, and he prays not to crash right into anyone.
That’d be... bad. Really bad.
Caduceus stumbles on the cobblestones. Once, twice. So he fixes his eyes on the ground beneath his feet, paying attention to where he steps, even if it feels like watching a stranger.
“Mmhmh,” he hums. It’s higher-pitched and more strained than he expects, so he flaps one hand beside his ear instead, and keeps on going.
“Just this way,” Beau says, still guiding him, holding onto the edge of his robe.
They turn and suddenly everything is dark and shadow-blue. Less sharp.
Caduceus risks opening his eyes further to look around. First one eye, then the other.
Him and Beau are in a narrow alleyway, a gap between buildings, that leads to another smaller street, also cast in shadow by heavy awnings. Beau is standing beside him, looking up with a smile that is tired and worried and relieved all at once.
“Hey, man,” she says, gently nudging him.
Caduceus slumps back against the wall, offering a halfhearted wave as a reply as he stares ahead, holding so tightly onto his staff. He traces his thumb over the lichen, the notches, the beetle-holes.
“Want to wait a minute?” Beau asks.
Caduceus nods. Please, he says inside his head, I just need to breathe.
And— Oh. Oh, he can sign that, in Sylvan. Maybe in Common too. But Sylvan’s got less chance of saying the wrong thing. So, that’s good, at least.
Sorry, he signs. I need to take a moment to rest. Please.
It’s a little wonky, a little stilted, but, long sentences are a lot… A lot of work right now.
Thank Melora that Beau’s been teaching herself his way of signing, and she’s a fast learner too, because she nods after a moment of figuring it out. “Sure. No problem.”
When Caduceus glances at her, she’s staring with a conflicted crease between her brows.
“C’mere,” she says, when they make eye contact for a half-second. “Bend down a little.”
Caduceus does as he’s told (thankful he doesn’t have to keep staring) and lets Beau wipe beneath his eyes with the end of her sash.
“There.” She sighs. “Just.. a bit of a mess... Your fur’s all mussed up. From crying. Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”
Caduceus smiles, small and wrought, and signs: Thank you.
He practices breathing as they hover in the alley, trying to come back to his body fully — one breath, two, with held ones between. He counts to eight and listens to his hammering heartbeat fade from his ears. His paws still shake, though…Which will probably last a while... But thats alright, he decides as he follows Beau out from the alleyway and into the narrow street.
Above them the sunlight is broken by awnings made from wood and weavings, spun together in so many different threads the colours of earth and jewels. Caduceus looks up, to study the patterns closer, and— Oh dear.
The world swoops and blurs, and his vision darkens. He looks back down to the cobblestone, suddenly much closer than before, and leans his weight into his staff, even though it feels far away.
That’s not great. Thats... a lot.
Then Beau’s cursing as she grabs hold of his elbows, to prop him up like sweet peas. “Dude.. You sure you’re okay?”
Caduceus nods, voice still stuck in his throat. Need to lie down, he signs, after a moment.
“Like, right now?”
He shakes his head, no. Not yet.
Not now. Soon. Dizzy, Caduceus signs, hands shaking. Let’s go fast.
“Alright.” Beau nods. “It’s not far anyway. Five minutes or something. Quick but careful, okay?”
Caduceus nods and follows Beau down the cobbled street, flapping one hand by his face the whole way. Mumbling wildmother, please.. wildmother, please.. wildmother, please.. inside his head between humming.
Ahead, Beau pauses, looks at the sky.
One beat, two. three. Four. Too many.
Just as Caduceus’ heart stutters (as he thinks of harpies, of dragons or rocs) and he lifts his head to whatever danger might be in the piercing sky above, Beau starts speaking.
“Oh, that’s good. We’ll see you there. Me and Cad, I mean.. uhm… He needs to lie down. See you — uhhh— soon.”
She finishes her message and turns to Caduceus, flashing a quick thumbs up.
“All good,” she says. “Everyone’s there anyways. Turns out Caleb wasn’t doing too great either.”
Oh. Caduceus isn’t sure if he wants everyone to be there. He doesn’t feel like being looked at right now.
Mostly, he hopes they wont be loud.
Next he looks up, he and Beau have arrived at the back of a huge building, crates piled against the wall, and Caduceus realises, as he watches Beau open a small door, that it must be the Chateau.
“Jes said we can just head upstairs,” Beau says as she holds the door open. “S’that okay?”
Caduceus just flaps his free hand as he nods, and he tries not to stumble as he ducks through the doorway.
The long staircases they climb are a blur of stone that turns to fine carpets, drapery and trying not to trip. The hallways pass by just as quick, filled with wobbly ferns and wallpaper. And Caduceus lets Beau’s hand in the crook of his elbow turn into a lifeline, as he lets himself be pulled gently along.
“Here,” Beau says finally, as they stop in front of a door. It’s familiar, maybe. Sort of.
Beau knocks on it, four solid knocks like a tune. Then, after a moment, it creaks open and Veth is peering up at them.
“Password—” she begins to say, then stops. “Oh. Hey.”
“Hey,” Beau says as Veth steps aside, letting them both in.
Mercifully, the room is quiet, and cooler than outside, curtains half-drawn to darken it, windows not facing directly toward the sun.
The glimpses of bright outside still makes cads head spin, though — blurry bright lights dancing everywhere. Then Beau is holding onto him again, leading him somewhere, sitting him down.
He feels out the place he’s been sat and slowly, when he finds more room to take up, he props up his staff against the edge of the bed and lies down. He curls up on the plush duvet beneath him, pulling his tail into his lap where he holds it to feel the fur on the end as he brushes it across his nose. He closes his eyes. Rocks just a little. Hums.
Rubs his eyes between thumb and forefinger.
Hums.
—
“—sleeping,” someone’s whispering. “Be quiet.”
“Okay, okay,” someone else replies. “Anyways, the point was…” They keep on talking, voice lowering until it’s too quiet to hear anymore.
Caduceus opens one eye and blinks at the fig tree in the corner, big leaves the shape of teardrops.
His eyes are heavy, sort of puffy-feeling. His head hurts, right between the eyebrows. And his knees— Ooh. As always. His knees…Ow. His hip too, he realises, as he starts to push himself upright, and his lumber, in a bruised sort of way.
And — Right. Yeah. From. From… From all of that, before.
“Oh,” someone whispers.
“I told you to be quiet,” says Beau’s voice.
“Veth...” someone else mutters, not unkindly.
Caduceus searches for the voices and realises, slowly, that it’s getting dark outside — the huge room has grown dim without the sunlight, lit only by candles and familiar floating globules of warm light. It’s… it’s a relief.
Caduceus searches and he finds Beau, Veth and Caleb in the semi-dark, sitting on a fancy-sort-of-sofa across the room as they drink from wine glasses.
“Hey, man,” Beau says, raising her glass like a greeting.
“Hey,” Caduceus replies. It comes out too quiet, strained and croaky from disuse and sleep and his dry, dry mouth. He sits up properly, facing them both and signs: How long has it been?
“Huh?” Beau says, squinting. “Sign it again?”
How long was i sleeping? he tries.
Beau oh’s and leans back in her seat. “Just a few hours. Everyone else’s out getting dinner. They’re gonna bring it back here though.”
“It’s quarter past 7 o’clock,” Caleb adds.
Caduceus nods to himself. He isn’t sure if he’s hungry. Tea, however, would be good, would be great. Really great. Yeah…he should make tea.
So he climbs slowly off the bed, head fuzzy like fevers, and looks around for— Oh. Where is..?
Where is my pack? he signs to Beau.
She points to a huge wardrobe, carved tiny flowers decorating its doors. “Just next to that,” she tells him. “Its on top of the others. Didn’t want to break your tea pot.”
Caduceus hums in agreement and wanders to where his pack is. He pulls out the tea-set, unwrapping it from the clean clothes that protect it, and starts to set it all up on the sill by the huge, open window.
Out of the glare the sunset light is beautiful, an orange glow dancing along the coast. It sits on the distant waves like dewdrops in the morning.
One by one the lanterns are being lit, turning to strings of red that line the streets. Like jewels. Like embers or pomegranate seeds.
Caduceus inhales deep and the air smells like salt and spices. It’s colder now, pulling at his still-raggedy hair.
As the water finishes boiling there’s a series of four knocks behind, and Caduceus’ ears flick back to listen. Through the door Fjord and Jester are laughing about something, with Yasha’s quiet voice breaking through every now and again.
Veth runs to it, opens it a crack.
“Password,” she demands.
Fjord grumbles. “Oh, come on—”
“Fjord stinks,” jester says, a little too loudly for it to be a secret password.
With that Veth opens the door properly and lets them in. There’s a chorus of chattering and sorting out of foods, and Caduceus realises, as he turns back to his tea, that he doesn’t really know what’s happening.
It makes him flap his hands again.
And, he realises, as the smell of fried things drifts about the room, that would explain the dizziness (at least a little)… His stomach is very empty. He can feel it, the hollow in his abdomen.
“Hey, Caduceus,” Jester says, beside him suddenly, voice all soft. “I got you this.”
Caduceus looks up from his tea (steeping in the pot, now) to see jester sitting onto her kneels beside him. In her hands she holds something wrapped in paper. She passes it to him and he holds it, not sure it he should open it yet.
“It’s flatbreads,” Jester says, “with herbs in! Coriander and cumin and stuff. Totally vegan. Aaand,” she lifts a little dish and a plate of steamed greens onto the windowsill too, “I got some hummus and veggies from downstairs too!”
Caduceus unwraps the flatbreads slowly and — wow — they smell so great, all fragrant and smokey. He lifts them closer to his nose. Inhales.
“Veth got a whole bunch of falafel too if you want some,” Jester adds, smiling with one sharp canine poking out. “They’re vegetarian, of course. Fjord and Caleb and Beau and Yasha got fish and chips. I just got more pastries.”
Caduceus smiles, because Jester’s is infectious. Her face is all purple-ish and freckled.
Thank you, he signs.
Jester must remember that one, because she smiles wider. “It’s no problem at all.”
Caduceus nods, and pours them both tea.
“Oh, thank you,” Jester says, tucking her skirt under her legs. “Do you want me to sit with you?”
Caduceus nods again, and waits as Jester gets comfortable on the plush cushion she’s sat on. She sets out a paper bag and a box on the windowsill, and then freezes.
“Oh!!” she exclaims, suddenly, jumping up. (Caduceus’ ears flick back, just a bit.) “I can’t believe I almost forgot — We found your hat!”
And then Jester’s running to where her haversack is sat, and returning just as quickly with a straw hat in hand, remnants of a flower crown hanging from it. She leaves petals after her in a trail.
Jester passes it to Caduceus and he takes it, holds the crumpled woven thing in his paws. It’s just a hat, he knows, running his fingers over the familiar ridges, but right then it’s maybe one of the best things that’s happened all day.
And then his face is all hot and Jester is hugging him. He nuzzles her cheek and she kisses his nose as a rumbling starts deep inside his chest.
Together they eat, tearing apart flatbreads and cinnamon-filled pastries. The rest of the Nein seem to be enthralled in Beau and Fjord’s dramatic recounting of the sailing race, and how they were disqualified. (Because, Fjord argues, how was he supposed to know that magic wasn’t allowed.)
Caduceus is just glad no one got (particularly) hurt.
—
Later, when the room is quiet, Caduceus lays back down in the four-poster bed. He holds the curtain tassel between his fingers, brushing it against his cheek.
Beau, Fjord, Veth, Caleb and Yasha have all left again, to join in with the night-time celebrations, but Jester stays, yawning and promising that it’s fine.
Caduceus apologised, once they were alone, but Jester had just smiled and told him: “Partying like that isn’t that fun if you don’t drink anyways. I’d rather stay here, with you, you know.”
So they crawl into bed, curling around each other as Caduceus slips between the layers of throws and the light duvet and Jester flops onto the silky throw besides him. The pillows beneath their heads are soft, smelling of lavender oil, dripped from a tiny purple bottle.
“This is a new one,” Jester explains, holding up a book for Caduceus to see. “So, I don’t know if it’ll be better than Tusk Love, but it looks pretty freakin’ good.”
“Is it a… smut book?” Caduceus asks, not sure if that’s the right word.
“Maybe…” Jester replies, giggling. “Sort of. Eventually.”
“Cool.”
“Very hot, actually,” Jester says, waggling her eyebrows.
Caduceus isn’t sure what she means by that, but that’s alright, and even though he doesn’t really understand much of what’s happening at all, he listens when Jester starts to read aloud.
He listens, and breathes, heavy eyelids already fluttering closed. He smiles at her giggling when a character’s shirt is pulled off. Yawns big. And at some point, he falls asleep.