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The boat was sinking. Skrimm had to leave- now. The slide down the ladder had really winded him and definitely bruised his ass, but that was a later problem. Picking himself up in a mad scramble for survival, the goblin dashed for the side and- what was that?
Something shiny had rolled to the edge of the boat and hadn’t fallen off. Deciding to examine it later, Skrimm picked it up and lunged over and off to join Queenie on the ice. He then slipped the object into his pocket and anxiously waited for the others.
Jornir. Safe.
Taishen. Safe.
Barnabos.
…Barnabos?
Was he walking into the water!? Why!?
The ship was gone. Barnabos was gone. It’s so quiet. It’s so cold. He pleaded to Jornir not to leave their friend. They wait. Queenie says something he’s not quite paying attention to, eyes and ears focused on the dark abyss of water beneath them.
Bubbles.
Barnabos! He’s alive!
Skrimm feels such immense amounts of relief when the triton finally pokes his head out of the water and laughs that he almost misses his friend’s raving words. Queenie and Taishen lift him out of the water. They discuss what to do next.
The camp their crew set up is salvaged for whatever they can use. It’s not much. Skrimm realizes he has to leave some gold behind, and it hurts. That innate part of his nature to hoard screams at him.
…At least there’s one coin that will never leave him, as much as the goblin wishes he could just get rid of it.
When he turns to sadly follow Jornir, Queenie scoops up the gold. She’s a touch encumbered now, but it’s worth it to make Skrimm happy.
The party walked on towards the coast. Evening comes. They set up camp.
Skrimm finally gets a look at what he nabbed on the More Abound before her tragic sinking. It’s a small silver telescope. Well, small for anyone who’s not a three and a half foot goblin. In his hands, it’s a normal telescope. It has three sections, the smallest where one would look through and the biggest at the end. It extends smoothly about six inches out and makes a very satisfying kerchunk noise when pushed back in on itself. There is a chain attached to the outermost casing, so that one could stuff the telescope in their pocket and hook the mechanism to their pant loop.
The device likely belonged to Myelin or Vermeil, if Skrimm had to guess. Someone with navigational skills. Not like either of them mattered now, what with one having run off and the other very very dead.
The goblin realized disappointedly he had no reason to hold onto such an item. It would have been useful in the bucket, but here? On the cold flat ice? As loathe as he may be to admit it, he just wasn’t tall enough to justify keeping it.
But maybe he could give it to one of his friends? His first (and only) thought was Barnabos, the one who knew the most about the sea and how to use these kinds of tools.
(And if he kept sneaking glances at Barnabos the whole time to make sure he was really there? That the sea hadn’t taken him? Well, Skrimm really wasn’t self-aware enough to realize that.)
While the others were focused on things like supplies and shelter, Skrimm managed to catch Barnabos alone for a moment by the fire.
“Ah, ahoy there Mr. Stabbaskotch! How’re you farin’ in these cold winds?” The triton asked.
Skrimm laughed that nervous small laugh, “Ha ha, about as well as I can really. Hey listen, I got something for you.”
“Oh hoh? And what might it be?” Barnabos lifted a brow.
Skrimm reached into his jacket and presented the telescope. Barnabos took it gently and began to look at it. He extended it, looked through the glass, tested the durability of the chain, and all the while Skrimm was shifting from foot to foot, growing more anxious the longer the silence went on.
Finally the goblin broke, “If you don’t like it, that’s fine! You can just chuck it into the snow and we can forget about it! Don’t feel like you have to-”
“Lad, calm yourself,” The barbarian laughed, “I was checking to make sure it works like a proper telescope should. And it does! It’s a fine bit of craftsmanship, it is! Where’d you find it?”
Skrimm sighed in relief, “I saw it on the boat just before I jumped off, so I grabbed it. Thought it might be worth something.”
“And you’re giving it to me?”
“W-well yeah! You’re the one that knows how to use crap like that! I certainly don’t get how it works!” The warlock looked away in embarrassment, eyes landing on the ice beneath his feet.
Barnabos’ face slipped into a fond smile and he patted the goblin’s head on top of his ever present hat, “Thank you Skrimm. It’s very useful to have a thing like this. And it doesn’t take up that much space.”
Queenie had just wandered over as Barnabos said the last sentence and added, “Skrimm doesn’t take up a lot of space either!”
Said goblin sputtered as the other two laughed heartily at his expense. Taishen and Jornir joined the group shortly after to continue discussing future plans and the night went on.
All the while, the telescope sat in Barnabos’s pocket, right next to his beloved lady in the shell, a warm reminder of his friend’s secretly thoughtful nature.
–
It was the day after Queenie had shared her story. Of the plague on her village’s crops, the bearfolk Eldred, his passing, and the bees she now kept. But most importantly the fae flower seeds she had inherited, the promise to keep his wife’s memory alive by planting them.
Skrimm would be lying if he said the tale hadn’t gotten to him. The rabbitfolk had worked up the courage as a teenager to help her family and village thrive once more by asking for help from a stranger she had been told to stay away from. She chipped away his gruff facade and found the kind man underneath. She lived with him, he was her mentor. Had taught her everything she knows. Had cared for her, and she cared for him in return.
Then life had taken Eldred to reunite with his wife in the afterlife, leaving Queenie with her bees, flower seeds, and memories. She had a good life, unlike Skrimm himself. She was fond of her home and where she came from. She had a family. A family Queenie had invited the party to come meet some day. It felt… cruel, in a way, that she was now stuck on a continent of ice and cold, the direct opposite of her home.
So when the party decided to pack up their things and move on from the abandoned village, the goblin followed Queenie into the nearest house to finish one last search for anything useful. The two were in the kitchen, opening cupboards and inspecting shelves, coughing as dust was kicked up with their movements.
As Queenie rummaged through the higher areas, Skrimm spotted a jar in a lower cabinet and carefully reached in to pull it out. He opened it to find… seeds? Little teardrop shaped seeds with stripes of black and white lay inside. They had an earthy scent, but also slightly salty and faintly like a fire.
Excited, he fast walked over to the rabbitfolk, “Queenie, Queenie, look what I found!” The warlock shoved the jar in her face.
“Skrimm, what- Oh!” She exclaimed in delight, “Sunflower seeds!”
“You can plant those, right? When- when you find the place for the flowers! The more the merrier, yeah?”
Queenie plucked one from the jar and sniffed it. Skrimm’s face was so pleased she almost hated to tell him, “Ah, these are actually roasted and salted, hon. You can’t plant these anymore.”
The goblin’s smile fell immediately and he whispered, “...Oh. Well, never mind then.”
Hating to see her friend upset, Queenie added, “But they’re a great snack! My mama always told me not to eat too many or I’d get all fat but I don’t think that applies much to our situation now.” She laughed and popped one in her mouth.
Skrimm didn’t ask for any but he looked up at her with such wide fascinated eyes she couldn’t help but hand him one, “Here, try it!”
He stared at the food for only a split second before shoving it into his mouth. The seed broke between his teeth with a loud crunch and his tongue was coated with a pleasant mix of salty and sweet flavors, along with a nuttiness he didn’t expect.
“Shit, does everything taste better if you roast it?”
Queenie laughed uproariously before calming down enough to say, “Pretty much, yeah. Did you not cook your food before you met us?”
The goblin, with no shame, replied, “Nope! I ate whatever I could get my hands on. If it was cooked, that was just a bonus! Can’t believe I was depriving myself this whole time!”
“I can,” The rabbitfolk teased. Before Skrimm could get another word in she continued, “I don’t think we’ll find anything else in here. We should go share these with the rest!” She lifted the jar and wiggled it.
The pair left the building and Queenie called everyone over, showing off what Skrimm had found.
Seeing the excited look on Queenie’s face as she bounced from Jornir to Taishen to Barnabos, gifting each of them a few seeds to eat, Skrimm felt proud knowing he had granted her some kind of comfort from home.
The rabbitfolk watched Skrimm’s beaming face as they all enjoyed the snack and couldn’t help but compare the goblin to a sunflower. When he smiled in earnest it was big and beautiful, a lightness to his face that was usually overshadowed by anxiety and fear.
He also lit up when praised like a sunflower facing the sun and wilted when admonished, curling in on himself. Queenie hated seeing him like that just as much as she hated seeing neglected flowers.
So she watered him with kind words when possible, provided him smiles and laughter like sunlight, and hopefully this sunflower of a goblin could one day thrive on his own.
–
The fire in the cabin was spreading fast. Skrimm and Queenie were snagging as many items as they could to be able to face the harsh cold that awaited them once outside. The rabbitfolk’s arms were full of coats, so Skrimm decided that boots and gloves were the way to go to be helpful.
As they raced as quickly as possible to meet with the others in the bathroom to escape down the hole, Queenie overtook him easily with her longer, more powerful legs. The goblin watched as something fell from one the coat’s pockets and snatched it up, wasting precious seconds and almost toppling over from the weight he was carrying. Much like the telescope Skrimm had picked up all that time ago, he shoved the item into his pocket without looking and continued forward.
Skrimm finally jumps down, and the party covered the hole. They walk on, discussing Taishen’s possession among other things, only to reel back in horror upon realizing the sun had not risen. It should have been morning, yet the sky was pitch black.
Mystery item completely forgotten for the moment, they make it to a river, trying to get away from that strange undead monster. They considered setting up camp for the night when hoofbeats make themselves known.
Everyone freezes in abject terror. It’s too dark see properly, but they can make out the beast, long limbs sprinting towards them, three jaws open to impossible lengths as it rears up and shrieks into the night, deafening everyone in earshot.
Belatedly they notice that not only are theirs ears shattered, so is the ice. What was once a frozen sheet they were able to walk across was now broken and traveling downriver, taking them with it.
They fight and fight and nothing happens. No one can make a dent on the beast. And finally Skrimm is able to stab his blade into it, proving it bleeds. The creature tries to swipe at him, missing each strike as Skrimm deftly moves out of the way. Him, Barnabos, Jornir, and Taishen are all bloody and bruised, Queenie and Daisy safely on neighboring ice floes.
They’re approaching the waterfall.
The nightmarish being rends into Barnabos and he drops. Skrimm is barely able to take in what happened when the beast clambers over his friend’s body to bite at him. The warlock almost subconsciously casts a shield. The noises the creature makes drowns out everything else and Skrimm is so afraid. He’s only been this scared once before, when face to face with Graveyard Jack. Out of the corner of his eye, Taishen falls.
Skrimm’s shield breaks. The maw of the beast rips into him. He’s being gored and there’s nothing he can do. The pain is a dull feeling, his body trying to make his last moments somewhat less horrific. His ears drown out the sounds of the creature and focuses on the now-soothing rush of water.
‘At least the chase will finally be over…’ And Skrimm thinks no more, lost to the inky blackness of death.
Until he is wrenched from its clutches, gasping for air in Queenie’s arms. He hurts, he hurts so badly and… wasn’t he dead? Queenie’s saying something, what is she saying? Skrimm can’t focus, the world is too blurry, too full of pain. Jornir’s here. What is he saying? He sounds angry.
The goblin speaks, weak and strangled, “Am, am I alive?”
Jornir picks him up, manhandles him, looking for something. Skrimm manages to speak again, “Jornir? How am I… how am I here?”
The firbolg does not answer him, just keeps checking the goblin. His eyes, his demeanor, searching for the undeath that afflicted all those animals. Skrimm is indeed somehow alive. So is Barnabos.
The beast comes back before any of them can truly heal. They all attack at once, Skrimm’s mysterious magic hitting it right in the eye. It goes still. They burn the body, obtain the strange gems that were within its chest. Barnabos finds Daisy and Jornir takes care of her.
The sun rises.
Over the course of the day the party all takes turns resting. Jornir is sitting against a tree, somewhere between meditation and sleep, when Skrimm grabs his bedroll and wanders over. The goblin quietly lays it out, shakes out the blanket, and makes himself comfortable.
“Hello Skrimm,” The firbolg says, jolting the warlock.
“O-oh, didn’t know you were awake, ha ha,” Skrimm laughs with very little humour.
Jornir turns to face his companion, eyes still a touch wary, looking for signs that Skrimm is unwell. Besides the newfound ravenous hunger the goblin will recover with enough sleep, and that’s enough to allow this intrusion into his space.
Skrimm continues, “I was getting kind of cold, and no one else is resting right now so I- I thought…”
“It is alright. You should sleep.”
“Yeah, yeah I will,” The goblin lays fully down on his side but his body arches as though something on the ground has poked him.
“Are you okay, Skrimm?”
“Ouch! Son of a- what is that?” Skrimm props himself up on an elbow, reaches into his pocket and pulls out something. It’s hidden by the blanket and the warlock looks at it in confusion, “Is that a-? That’s what fell out of the pocket?”
Jornir interrupts, “What is it?”
Skrimm looked up in surprise that the firbolg is interested, “Back in the cabin, something dropped out of the pockets of the one of the coats Queenie grabbed. I picked it up because I didn’t know if it was useful. But uh, it’s definitely not. I think you’d like it though.”
Jornir stayed quiet as Skrimm revealed the object. It was a small wooden figure of an owl. The druid got a horrible flashback of the owl that had pretended to be normal at the cabin until it became clear the poor thing was an undead thrall being used by the beast. Had the previous occupant, before the girls, carved it? Had they liked owls? Enough to immortalize one in wood? The piece was handed to Jornir and as he looked closer, the left eye appeared to be made using a small chunk of sodalite, and the right eye was missing. Just like him.
“This is no coincidence, Skrimm. Owls are typically associated with knowledge and wisdom, said to be connected to the God Odin himself. It is a symbol of the hidden or unseen world, the Wyrd, which I connect to in order to channel my druidic abilities. And do you see the eye?” He pointed it out to Skrimm, who nodded enthusiastically. “That is sodalite. It is said to aid one’s intuition and perception.”
Skrimm hummed in thought, “So together it means… learning new stuff about the Wyrd... helps you find solutions to hard problems?”
“Correct. You are smarter than I give you credit for sometimes,” Jornir huffed in amusement.
The warlock pouted, but when Jornir tried to hand the owl back, Skrimm pushed his hand away, “Nah, you keep it.” He looked up, “Hey, it matches your eyes! That’s neat.”
The man from Jorn retracted his hand and Skrimm laid back down onto his bedroll. Within seconds the goblin was asleep and Jornir was left to reflect on his odd gift.
Knowledge of the Wyrd had helped him today. Through it he had determined which animals were undead and fortunately Skrimm was not one of them. The druid could feel a shudder run through his body and the grief he didn’t need to process welled back up. Before jumping into the water, Skrimm had been well and truly dead. Mauled by a nightmare. Stomach split open, partially devoured, a wide-eyed look of terror frozen to his face.
He gripped the owl figure tighter. Was Odin to thank for bringing his friends back? Was this a sign from the Triad? Jornir didn’t know, but he would thank any God listening for this miracle. He placed the owl into a hidden pocket on the inside of his furs and slipped back into his meditative state, the soft snoring of Skrimm reminding him of what he could have lost today.
–
Anyone with a brain, hells, anyone with eyes could tell Taishen was upset. Well, it was more than upset, but Skrimm didn't know the right word for the hard mixture of rage, grief, and sadness that was currently running through the sorcerer.
It was understandable, considering his poor friend had just witnessed the death of a dragonborn child only to be immediately told it was a good thing. That they would be reborn.
But it didn’t erase the blood on Taishen’s robes, or the small body he carried up the mountain from camp to camp.
At the first camp Skrimm had been overwhelmed by his hunger, the urge to eat and eat and eat neverending. Then drugs he had been offered kicked in and at the second camp he spent his time experiencing an alternate reality, spun into absurdity by his friends’ teasing. At the third he shares his post-drug feelings to Jornir and passes out briefly after the cold brand tattoo.
It’s at the fourth camp that the goblin decides to do something. Jornir joins the other druids, Queenie goes with Daisy to race cheese wheels, and Barnabos continues trying to satiate his own unending hunger. Taishen does seem to be in a slightly better mood as he finally grabs a drink and some food, but wanders to a corner where he can sit alone.
The goblin was about to snag his own sustenance when something caught his eye. On one of the tables was the perfect gift for his woeful pal. A jade green teacup sat next to a dragonborn casually chatting with those near him.
Skrimm sidled up, hopped up onto the bench, and tapped the dragonborn’s shoulder, “Hey buddy, is that cup there yours?”
The silver dragonborn appeared to be an older male, eyes a piercing yellow. He looked confused before realizing the voice was coming from below him, saying in a soothing baritone, “Oh! Hello there! You are one of our guests! Yes, this cup is mine, why do you ask?”
“Could I interest you in a trade? I don’t have much to offer in the way of gold, but surely we can come to an agreement?” Skrimm gave his most charming smile.
“Hmm, I am very attached to this particular cup but for our guest? I will give it to you if you can show me a spectacular trick. A feat of magic if you will. Impress me and it is yours,” The dragonborn offered.
“Deal!”
The warlock racked his brain. He didn’t have any cards, so those were out. He did have a hat, but nothing to pull out of it. Really the only thing he had was the coin. If thrown it would reappear in his hand, but that wasn’t very impressive. His blade could also appear and disappear at will. Skrimm knew his sleight of hand was one of his best skills, but what could he do to wow this guy?
Skrimm jumped off the bench, the dragonborn’s eyes following him.
The goblin started, “Okay, do you see this coin?” He produced the cursed coin from his coat in his right hand. The dragonborn nodded.
“I can make it disappear!” He proceeded to wiggle his fingers, the coin moving in between them from index to pinky. He made a big show of switching it from hand to hand and then deftly threw it behind him, far enough and obvious enough that he knew his spectators had seen the movement.
“Ta-da!” He lifted his hands to show that the coin was gone.
The dragonborn laughed, “Is that it? We all saw you throw it, young one. Hardly anything special.”
Skrimm’s eyes widened and he gasped dramatically, “What? Ugh, fine, but I can make it reappear in my hand!”
“Go on then.”
The warlock twisted his wrist in a gripping motion, “Presto whatever, the coin is back!” In a puff of red smoke his brutal blade manifested into his hand, “Woah, hey! That’s not the coin!”
The dragonborn leaned forward, intrigued. Skrimm proceeded to stab his weapon into the wood of the bench, “Okay, for real, the coin is back now!” His hands remained empty and he looked down in confusion.
Reaching up, he removed his hat to scratch at his head, “I swear it was just here!” And the coin fell from his hair to the ground.
Skrimm could see the dragonborn and his friends peer at the spot the gold had been just moments ago, clearly in shock that it was no longer there. As a final hurrah the goblin said, “Oh look, I found it!” and re-pocketed his cursed item.
“Should probably get this out of here, too,” Skrimm pointed towards the blade, waved his hand, and the weapon was gone in another plume of red vapor.
The table clapped and Skrimm took a bow, placing his hat back on after.
“Now that was a fine bit of magic! Here, the cup is yours friend,” The dragonborn handed Skrimm his treasure.
“Pleasure doin’ business with you!” The goblin waved goodbye and brought the cup up to his face for a closer look. It wasn’t made of jade, that Skrimm could tell, but it was the right color. On one side there was an etched-in symbol, probably a draconic word. Wrapped around the cup from one side of the etching to the other was a hand-painted silver dragon, clearly in flight. The protective glaze on top made everything shiny and added to the richness of the colors. The bottom had another symbol, but this one was small and compact.
Grinning in delight, Skrimm spotted Taishen still sitting in his corner alone. He practically sauntered over and sat on the bench, startling his companion.
When Taishen said nothing Skrimm started, “Hey there Taishen, how’re you doing?”
“I am… alright. I’m still horrified by what has taken place here, and I do not trust these people, but the promise of that child’s rebirth gives me hope. Is that wrong, Skrimm? Finding peace in a vow that can’t possibly be true?” The golden dragonborn spoke quietly.
Skrimm’s face had fallen in concern about three words in. He used his free hand to pat Taishen’s back, “No, no way! You’re literally the most hopeful person I know! If you couldn’t find the hope in a bleak situation, I’d think we were doomed for sure!”
The sorcerer’s mouth lifted just a little, “Thank you, Skrimm.” Taishen’s gaze wandered back over to where the body of the child lay unattended and his eyes welled with tears. He didn’t say anything more.
The warlock shifted uncomfortably at his friend’s sadness and placed the cup on the table, “I-I got this for you!”
Taishen blinked away the wetness and gently picked up the teacup. Scaled hands ran over the etching, traced the dragon from head to tail, turned it over to see the other symbol.
“What’s uh, what’s that word say?” Skrimm mumbled.
“It’s an old draconic word for ‘strength’. This is lovely, my friend, thank you,” Finally Taishen shot Skrimm a real smile. The goblin grinned back. They didn’t have much time to enjoy the gift before the call came to walk to the peak of the mountain, but at least he had lifted Taishen’s spirit, even if just a little bit.
(And later, when the festival disappeared taking all it’s ghosts with it, Skrimm loudly mourned the loss of his thoughtful gesture. Taishen gave him a pat on the shoulder and reassured him that the memory remained of the kindness Skrimm had shown him in his moment of sorrow.)
–
Being stuck in Ogreton sucked ass. Not having his regular clothes sucked ass. Being separated from his friends sucked ass. Getting the shit beat out of him sucked ass.
In fact, the only thing about this situation that didn’t suck was Daisy’s presence. Upon seeing him she had given the goblin a quick hug and a speech filled with grand ideas- that even though they were under the thumb of her oppressors, with the help of Skrimm and the rest, revolution could happen.
He had insisted on finding the rest of the party when Daisy’s father Myelin had sucker punched him. Skrimm tried his damnedest to explain what happened and while it had worked, Myelin was obviously still upset, refusing to even look at him.
After a quick chat, Skrimm was offered Honey’s bed- and that roused a variety of emotions the goblin didn’t particularly want to think about, the failure to keep her sister safe heavy on his mind. He wondered briefly if his corpse had looked like hers- ripped open, viscera everywhere- or if he even had enough blood and guts to coat the ground the way hers did.
Shaking that thought off with a shudder, he laid down and proceeded to have the strangest dream. His library of memories that felt oddly real that led to the vision of meeting his friends was comforting. Until a sharp pain pierced his head and he shot awake, that is. Confused, he was told to go back to sleep, so he did reluctantly.
A new day dawned and Daisy made him do, uugggghhhh, actual work for once. Counting hogs? 800 - 1,000 of them!? Skrimm almost wished he’d just be eaten by the ogres instead.
But… it was nice out. Compared to the rest of Drakkar, this was paradise. The sun was warm, the sky clear, the air crisp, the grass soft. He and Daisy had sat under the shade of a nice tall tree to do their assigned duty, and yeah, he had lost count three of four times, but could you blame a goblin?
Not to mention the company. The human sitting next to him was diligently counting the hogs, long auburn hair swaying in the light breeze. Whenever she turned to acknowledge his mistakes it was always with a twinkle in her eye and a smile emerging on her lips.
The goblin had gotten the hang of understanding the hand code pretty quick, and the wit behind Daisy’s snappy comebacks would send most people crying to their spouses. She didn’t take his shit and she dealt back teasing remarks with ease.
Skrimm found himself… almost glad to be alone with her. Without his friends around. Of course he wanted to be reunited with them all as soon as possible, but he also wished he could stay in this moment for a while. The warlock had never felt this way before. The urge to stare, the way his face flushed, the fast pace of his heart that, for once, had nothing to do with his anxiety? He had no idea what to do with this.
And then he remembered that this moment could only exist because of the party’s colossal fuck-up. They had been caught unawares at that hot spring and dragged to Ogreton while unconscious. Daisy was captive once more, and her sister wasn’t even alive anymore to comfort her. Her father was here, and Skrimm hoped that he had embraced her, told her everything was going to be okay, mourned Honey with her.
Skrimm was familiar with guilt, but he wasn't sure he had ever felt it this strongly before. Someone he… someone he cared for was in an unfavorable position because of him. Daisy seemed to be confident in their ability to escape, but she had also admitted to being scared.
What could Skrimm do to possibly make this up to her? He spotted something out of the corner of his eye and a thought came to him.
When they were done counting and Daisy stood to leave, Skrimm grabbed her arm, “Wait! We can stay for a couple minutes, right?”
Daisy sighed, breathy and without sound, ‘Why? We’re done. Don’t you want to go and see if your friends sent a letter back yet?’
“W-well the weather’s really nice! You’ve been outside now, you remember how cold and dreary it is! Don’t you want to, I don’t know, enjoy the sunshine a bit? It’s not like anyone’s gonna notice we’re missing for a few minutes, yeah?”
She sat back down, ‘I guess. And yeah, it is nice today. Well, it’s nice every day but you’re right, out there it was… worse.’
Skrimm shot up to gather his brilliant idea, “See? I’ll make a slacker out of you yet! I’ll be right back!”
Daisy watched him run off confusedly before shrugging. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It truly was a lot nicer inside Ogreton than out. She’d rather be free in the cold than captive and warm, but surely Skrimm was on to something when it came to relaxation. The few allotted minutes passed and she was about to go looking for the goblin when he tapped her shoulder.
While seated she was shorter than Skrimm, and it was interesting to see him from this perspective. In the shade of the tree his features were a lot softer, the smile lighting his face big and bright, his black hair shiny and clean from the recent shower.
He held something in his hands out to her excitedly. Daisy took it with a delicate gesture. It was… a ring of flowers strung together?
‘It’s very pretty but, what is it?’ She asked.
Skrimm got a strange look on his face, “You’ve… you’ve never seen a flower crown before?”
The human shook her head no and the goblin reached out to take the gift back. “Here,” he said, “It goes on your head, it’s a crown.”
The warlock went to place it on her head but when his hands let go, the whole thing dropped to sit around her neck.
“...Guess I shouldn’t have used my own head to measure it.”
Daisy laughed so hard she could feel tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Skrimm looked embarrassed but the soon the rhythmic breathy sounds coming from his companion had him giving in and laughing as well at his own error.
When they finally calmed down, Daisy wiping her eyes and face red from exertion, she threw her arms around Skrimm tightly. The goblin’s hands froze behind her for a moment before carefully embracing her back, claws lightly resting on her shoulders.
After parting Daisy signed, ‘Thank you Skrimm. This is the nicest present I’ve ever gotten.’
Skrimm looked away and scratched his neck, “Y-yeah, no problem. When, when we leave this place I’ll definitely get you something better though! I’ll have to keep one-upping myself!”
The two walked back to the house, where Daisy very gingerly placed the flower crown on her bunk.
–
The party had been reunited, and Daisy sat in the others’ luxurious room while Skrimm had gone to ‘take a piss’, as he put it.
Queenie’s head cocked slightly, and she hopped over to pick up something that had been near Daisy’s shoulder, “Is this a flower petal? What have you two been up to?”
The human lit up, ‘Skrimm made me a…’ she thought for a moment how to sign the next phrase, ‘flower crown!’ She mimed a flower shape with her index fingers followed by moving her hands to her head, as if placing a crown.
The rabbitfolk’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh? Skrimm gave you a gift?”
Barnabos chuckled, “It’s a good thing lass, it means he sees you as part of the group!"
Taishen beamed, “We’ve all received gifts from Skrimm! He loves giving out little trinkets to people he likes, it’s an honor!”
“He pretends it doesn’t mean anything, but he’s very transparent sometimes. It is easy to see this is his way of showing affection,” Jornir added.
Daisy felt her face heat up and the conversation vanished as Skrimm waltzed back in, ready to discuss escape plans. The human kept an eye on the goblin and could only think one thing-
Had Skrimm ever been given a gift in return?
–
They were out of the city! The party had actually managed to convince Manius to pack things up and get himself and his vassals out! They had a wand that could take the collars off! Everyone could be freed!
Sure, Skrimm was still incredibly anxious about having to return and investigate beyond the waterfall, but when wasn’t he nervous about something or other?
Their equipment was finally returned, Skrimm had just gotten the protective tattoo and piercing from Barnabos, and now it looked like it was time to go to sleep and rest up.
Except, Daisy was walking over trying to get his attention. The goblin turned, “Oh, what’s up? Anything wrong?”
‘No, nothing’s wrong. I’ve got something for you though,’ The human reached into her newly-returned winter coat and pulled out an object, hands covering it. She made a motion that Skrimm should hold out his own hands, so he did. Daisy plopped the item down for the warlock to inspect.
It was a golden pocket watch. It was weighty in his hand, chain dangling down, and covered his entire palm. On the front was an etching of the sun on the horizon, whether it was supposed to be dawn or dusk was hard to tell. His thumb reached up to click it open and it did with incredible smoothness and barely a sound. The off-white clock face was pristine as well as the glass covering it. The hands were also gold in color, expertly crafted but simple in design. The mechanism moved with precision, no ticking to be heard. Closing the watch with a snap Skrimm looked at the golden chain. The links were small and delicate and the clasp would easily slip onto a belt loop.
“It’s… it’s beautiful. Where did you get it?” The goblin asked, breathless.
Daisy smirked, ‘I stole it from Manius’s bedroom’
Skrimm looked up in horror, “You stole from the ogres!?”
‘Don’t say it out loud! But yes, I did.’
“Oh gods I’m such a bad influence.”
Daisy raised a brow, ‘Do you want it or not? I’ll take it back if you don’t.’
The goblin gasped and held the watch close to his chest, “Yes, of course I want it!”
‘Good, because I wasn’t really going to be able to return it.’
Skrimm chuckled, “That’s true, huh?” He peered up at the human, smile soft and voice softer, “Thanks, Daisy. I love y- it. The watch. I love the watch.”
Daisy was either kind enough not to notice his blunder or hadn't heard the slip-up at all and signed back, ‘You’re welcome. Good night, Skrimm!’
Skrimm waved good night as Daisy retreated to her bed. Even though they were back out in the cold, Skrimm had never felt warmer.
…Now if only he could ignore the rest of his party giggling behind him.