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Several books scattered across the floor as Essek lurched, slamming his shoulder into a doorframe. The world had tilted on its axis for a moment. He froze, swaying on his feet and trying to recalibrate his balance as his vision spun. Had he eaten lunch? Probably not, he had about four different experiments going. The outpost’s offerings were not nearly as sophisticated as his own tools and he had a rigorous schedule of what he hoped to get done on his leave in Rosohna. Perhaps he had lost more time than he had realized while setting aside the books he wished to bring back with him. His hands rapidly moved through the somatics for sending and he requested delivery from a nearby restaurant he favored. Some lagman would certainly clear the fogginess from his head.
Books were spread on every surface of his workshop, some lying open next to the relevant experiment, some in teetering layered stacks. As he tidied the small piles of components on his workbench, his sleeve nearly erased a half-drawn sigil left on the slate. He cursed his sloppiness aloud, pushing a hand through his hair, then cursed himself again as the movement sent a puff of chalk dust into the air. Coughing and wrinkling his nose, he staggered over to the tower door, waiting for the telltale chime of his delivery. It came shortly, a tinkling bell ringing throughout the tower. He cringed— hadn’t he turned that down? Had his hearing gotten more sensitive after being stuck in blinding snow for so many months?
There was a young goblin courier standing on the stoop when he opened the door, extending a bag of packaged food towards him. That was unusual, he thought, usually they just left his order on the doorstep. He had ordered regularly enough from this shop for them to know that his preferences skewed towards minimal interaction.
“Sir, your order,” the courier stated, still offering the bag. He started, realizing he had been staring into the air just beside the courier’s head.
“Yes, yes, thank you,” he said, flipping them a coin before retreating back into his tower.
He pulled up a chair at his dining room table and flipped open the lid of the food, inhaling the fragrant aroma of vegetables, mastodon, and fresh pulled noodles. There was truly nothing like it in Vurmas, where spices and rations were both at a premium. He portioned off a bit to save for later and devoured the other half. The vendor must have been doing well in his absence as they had even included some bok choi in the mixture. Such leafy vegetables were hard to grow and preserve in Rosohna, where space and sun both came at a premium. As he placed the bowl on the counter, he slipped, barely catching himself on the stone countertop. It seemed the food had not yet solved his peculiar balance problem. Perhaps there was an upcoming storm and he was having a migraine? His head had started throbbing just a bit ago. He lifted into his typical float— if the ground was going to be so uncooperative, he would simply avoid it.
On his way back into his laboratory, he grabbed a heavier cloak from his hall closet. The tower was frigid today; unusually so for the season. Clearly they had scaled back on his heating while he had been away. His fingers felt stiff and that simply wouldn’t do for the complex casting he was hoping to do today. He floated back towards his lab, cringing at the oddly haloed bright lights. With a wave of his hand, he decreased the throw of the arcane lamps and returned to sorting through reference books.
Just complete this task, then you can trance for a bit, he told himself. His legs ached and he lowered himself to the floor. I’ll just close my eyes for a moment, then, back to work.
A cheerful voice echoed in his head like a temple bell: Heeeeeeey Essek! How are you? We miss you — especially Caaaayleb. Orange festival soon in Nicodranas, we’ll be at port then. Come see us, pleeeeease!
His tongue felt like dead fish in his mouth. Had he had fallen asleep? He hadn’t done that since he was a child. Why was he on the floor? He tried to form words, but it just came out as a groaned exhale.
The voice came again: Essek? Are you okay? That didn’t sound like you. Yell “PENIS” if you’re having sex, otherwise we’ll send help… tell me if you’re being attacked?
This was exhausting. Why couldn’t his mind be quiet? He sighed. Hadn’t the voice said he should do something? That felt so long ago. Maybe he could crawl somewhere better to rest in a little bit. The stone floor wasn’t comfortable, but his limbs were so heavy. He curled his knees up to his chest. His stomach had hurt earlier—he remembered that—but now there was a fuzziness to the pain, as though his senses were shrouded in a thick curtain.
That was much better.
He was so tired.
A crackle of arcana buzzed through the air as the teleportation circle in the back of his lab glowed. Did it always glow? How strange, he thought, I’m already here. It should have concerned him, an uninvited guest teleporting to his private circle, but right now it seemed as unremarkable as the stones against his face.
He heard footsteps and the faint crackle of fire as the figure searched the room. The footsteps grew closer.
“Essek?” The voice was familiar. The flickering light cast by a held firebolt pulled his lidded eyes to the figure drawing closer. He should answer. His mother taught him to be polite.
“Hnnnnnnnn,” he groaned.
The footsteps accelerated and soon his eyes were level with a pair of scuffed black boots. The figure knelt next to him, familiar blue eyes peering down at his own.
“Essek? Are you hurt? Are they still here?” Caleb asked. His eyes scanned Essek’s crumpled form for any obvious blood or injury, but there was none to find—just his sweat-stained house robe, flecked with the chalk he had been using before he collapsed.
Caleb glanced around the room, assessing: there were no signs of struggle, just the detritus from a few days of experiments. His brows knit together and he gently rolled Essek onto his back. This was not so nice, Essek thought, as his limbs sprawled gracelessly across the floor.
“You are concerning me, mein freund,” Caleb said.
Caleb’s voice sounded distressed—that was bad. He didn’t want to distress Caleb. He whined, trying to curl back in on himself. Now that he was awake, his limbs flickered faintly with pain. Caleb set down a satchel beside them, the light clink of bottles within echoing in the quiet space.
“This was not quite the way I had hoped to use that circle for the first time,” Caleb commented. Three globules of amber light wreathed Caleb’s head as his fingers deftly flicked through the somatics for Dancing Lights. Essek groaned at the sudden brightness, slamming his eyes shut.
Caleb paused, studying him.
“These are not particularly bright—I would not have expected that reaction.” He took one of Essek’s hands from the floor, sliding off the silk glove and tossing it aside.
“Why do you have so many layers?” Caleb grumbled to himself, unbuttoning a line of small buttons on Essek’s sleeve. He pressed two fingers to Essek’s wrist, feeling for the faint pulse point. Caleb counted quietly to himself. His fingers seemed to radiate with the heat of a bonfire on Essek’s chilled skin. Essek found himself curling the rest of his body around Caleb’s kneeling form, as though warming himself by a fire.
“That is not good, friend,” Caleb said. He removed his fingers and examined Essek’s wrist. His pale fingers lightly prodded the dark purple skin, watching it fade to a light lavender before slowly darkening again.
“I hope you will forgive the liberties I am taking with your person, but I suspect you have been poisoned.”
Essek whined as Caleb placed his hand back on the floor.
“That you are still able to make some sound reassures me,” Caleb said. He placed his hands on either side of Essek’s head, turning his face back towards the ceiling. Caleb’s hands were calloused, but warm, and Essek found himself chasing the heat against his chilled skin.
Caleb brought a hand to Essek’s face, carefully pulling back one eyelid, and motioned with his free hand for one of the lights to hover in front of Essek’s eye. The light receded and he studied the violet-wreathed pupil as it sluggishly contracted and then re-enlarged. Essek made a sound of protest at the bright light. Why couldn’t he be left to rest?
“Your pupils are slow and your eyes are quite bloodshot. I recall reading that drow irises can change color in response to poisoning, but I apologize that I didn’t think at the time to research the specifics more.” Caleb leaned back on his heels.
“I am very sorry for this, but I need to check your,” Caleb gestured to his teeth, unsure how much Essek was able to track at the moment, “and I hope you will forgive me when you are yourself once more.”
Caleb moved his hands towards Essek’s mouth, carefully pulling back the side of his top lip to expose his eye tooth and gums. He pressed lightly on the gum, watching the change in coloration. Essek groaned, trying to pull his head away. Caleb made a sound of contemplation next to him and rustled through the satchel.
“This part is not going to be fun, but then it will be much better.” Caleb’s voice was measured and Essek found himself thinking that it was really quite soothing. He could fall back asleep to this.
“If you can speak, I think you should be able to swallow but we still need to be careful. Your reflexes do not seem to be all there.”
Essek fuzzily noticed Caleb’s shadow moving around him and the warm pressure of Caleb’s legs near his face vanished. He made a noise of complaint, before he felt arms around his armpits, dragging him up against one of the stone walls. A heavy weight pinned his thighs as Caleb straddled his hips, keeping Essek’s upper body from slumping with a forearm across his chest. He pulled his head back to fall against the wall with a dull thunk.
“Good, good! Ja, keep your head back.” Caleb uncorked a potion bottle with his teeth.
Essek’s glazed eyes shifted and blinked once, before a pale hand delicately pulled open his mouth while the other poured in mouthful of a bitter potion. He nearly spat it back out, but just enough of his mind clung to consciousness for him to remember to swallow.
First, the paresthesia came. Feeling returned to his stomach and throat first. Then his skin began to prickle as though small droplets of oil were splattering down his legs and arms. He gasped, eyes flying open. Caleb surged forward holding his chin firmly and pouring the rest of the potion into his mouth in a measured stream.
“I know, I know, but you must drink it now before your nerves wake up too much more,” Caleb chanted apologetically as Essek coughed and gagged in between swallows. He tossed the empty bottle over his shoulder, grabbing for another bottle set out next to him.
Essek’s limbs began to twitch and jolt, the pleasant numbness receding like the ocean before a tsunami. He opened his mouth to speak, but his diaphragm seized, cutting off the noise into a choked whine.
Caleb pressed another bottle to his lips. This time, he had the wherewithal to swallow at an even pace, recognizing the herbal taste of a healing potion. The pain in his limbs reached a crescendo, then faded. He panted, wide-eyed as his limbs periodically seized with the strange lightning of healing nerves.
He was in his laboratory. He was in Rosohna. He had no idea what day it was. Caleb was sitting on him. Caleb was sitting on him. He was propped up against a wall in his lab, and Caleb was sitting on him, discarded potion bottles and corks scattered behind him. Essek’s cheeks heated with embarrassment and he scrubbed a hand over his eyes.
“I—I cannot begin to apologize for this… disruption,” Essek rasped, throat raw.
Caleb’s brows knitted he carefully slid off Essek’s lap, shifting to sit against the wall next to him. Oh Light, he was just in his lounge clothes, laden with a mismatch of robes from when everything had felt so very cold.
Caleb’s pale hand rested on Essek’s own.
“There is nothing to apologize for, mein freund, I am just glad I got here before it got worse.” Caleb glanced towards Essek, whose gaze had drifted to the floor by his feet. Caleb fidgeted nervously with his other hand.
“If I… may take one more liberty,” Caleb said, pulling Essek’s hand between his as Essek turned to look at him, “You have been very ill for a number of days. Please, let me make sure you are well before I leave. If you have someone you would prefer I send to, I can certainly do so.”
Essek huffed out an exhale. “There is no one, as you well know.”
Caleb frowned at him.
“Or perhaps, you have already called him,” Caleb offered.
Essek’s fingers twitched and he looked to the floor again.
Caleb sighed. “You need to rest and we will need to discuss what to do.” He rose to his feet and walked over to the corner of the laboratory, the components for the Tower already in his hands. “We will also need food, and I think it is best to keep your attacker believing they have succeeded, ja?”
When the casting was complete, Caleb returned to him.
“I am not sure I can walk entirely unaided yet,” Essek said. One of his legs shook as he tried to pull himself into a cross-legged position.
“I would be surprised if you could,” Caleb said. He quickly cast to adjust Essek’s density and bent down to throw one of Essek’s arms behind his neck. “Let’s get you into a real bed.”
“I could try to hover,” Essek offered. He knew already that Caleb would reject the suggestion.
Caleb silenced him with a glare. “You are casting nothing right now.”
He tightened his arm around Essek’s waist, pulling him in through the entrance of the Tower. Essek should have been angry to be admonished in such a way, but he was exhausted and as much as he was loathe to admit it, Caleb was likely right. It was less humiliating for him to simply agree than to try and fail to cast in this state.
When they got Essek into the bedroom of the abridged Tower, Essek nearly sobbed with relief. His earlier bravado felt greatly misplaced now that he had tried walking even with support. He flopped onto the bed, heedless of how disgusting he would normally find it to sit on a bed with the same clothes on that he had worn in the lab.
Caleb was rifling through the wardrobe, pulling out a fresh set of clothes. He turned back towards Essek and Essek tried valiantly to hide how thoroughly exhausted he was just from the journey across the room. Caleb put a hand on his.
“I know you are not so comfortable with nudity as the rest of the Nein… I think the cats will be able to help you change, but I would like to stay in the room in case something were to happen. Is it acceptable if I sit there,” Caleb pointed to the nearby wall, “and face the wall?”
Essek swallowed and nodded quickly. He could not, would not, let Caleb know how distracting it would be to have him right there.
How the cats managed to undress him was somewhat beyond his understanding—to their benefit, he was already horizontal, and he found he simply had to lift his body at choice times as they help shimmy him out of his sweat-soaked leisure clothes and into the lounge clothes Caleb had set out. There was something oddly sensual in wearing clothes he knew Caleb had imagined into existence particularly for him. As the cats left, he realized the only thing left was his piercings. He tried to grasp the small backs with his shaking fingers, but he couldn’t get a strong enough grip to remove them. He sighed.
“Caleb,” he called, “I am done, but I need some help.”
Caleb rose from his place by the wall, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.
“Ja, of course, what do you need?”
“My hands are still a bit shaky. Can you help with these?” Essek motioned to his ears, lined with a number of small hoops and studs.
Caleb’s blush rose higher in his cheeks. “Of course.” He moved to stand next to the bed and began delicately examining the line of piercings up his ears.
“Do you have a preference where I start?”
Light, he was going to have to describe this to Caleb. He was pretty sure there was an erotic novel that mother had confiscated from Verin that started this way. “At the bottom, please,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady.
Caleb’s fingers deftly unhooked the bottom hoop, depositing it in a small plate beside the bed. Then the flat-back stud. His fingers traced up the side of Essek’s ear, checking for anything he might hav missed, and Essek shuddered minutely. Another hoop fell into the bowl with a light click. Finally, he felt Caleb’s fingers find the release catch on his top ear cap.
“Ach, this is a very clever fastening,” Caleb muttered. Caleb shifted closer to him and Essek had to shut his eyes to avoid looking directly at Caleb’s too-close face, his brow furrowed in concentration as he studied the clasp of his ear cap. He felt the ear cap lift from his ear, then the light clink of the subsequent earrings on the plate next to him as Caleb worked his way up the other ear.
“There we go, all done,” Caleb said. Essek opened his eyes just as Caleb stepped back, placing the final cuff onto the plate. “What is a good food that will not unsettle your stomach? You need to eat something, but I know this… particular poison is quite hard on the stomach.”
Essek raised an eyebrow. “You are quite knowledgeable about this.”
“We can return to the subject of the awful things I have done when you are feeling better, ja? Now, you have avoided the question.”
Essek paused. “Do you remember that noodle and broth dish sold at the stand near the blacksmith’s in the Gallimaufry?”
Caleb nodded.
“That one.”
Caleb called to one of the cat servants, conveying the order in an exchange Essek still found oddly endearing.
“Now, chair or bed?” Caleb asked.
“As much as it galls me to say, I think I will have to trance after eating,” Essek fidgeted with the blanket next to him, “I am exhausted. I might as well just stay here.”
“Well, we can at least get you propped up,” Caleb said.
Essek tried to push himself backwards with his legs, but barely made it an inch before they began to shake. He huffed in frustration. He would have preferred for Caleb to see him in a more put-together state. He knew he was not precisely presenting an appealing picture of a robust traveling companion for their promised venture to Aeor.
“May I?” Caleb asked, motioning to his torso.
Essek nodded. He did not know if anyone had ever taken care of him quite this intensively since his mother dismissed their nanny when he and Verin reached their teens. And of course, it had to be Caleb. He had kept his distance while he was sorting through his feelings for the Nein and Caleb in particular, so of course Caleb would be the one to see him this way.
Caleb leaned forward, placing an arm around the front of Essek’s chest and a steadying hand on his lower back. He pulled Essek’s body to rest against the headboard, careful not to press too hard on his still clenching stomach. He felt his cheeks and ear tips flush.
“Thank you,” he said.
“It is no problem,” Caleb looked away, his own face heating. They sat in silence for a moment. “Do you want a book?” Caleb asked.
“That would be lovely.”
Caleb walked briskly out to the laboratory and Essek sighed in relief. He finally had a moment to compose himself. However, without Caleb’s presence keeping him engaged, he felt his eyelids droop.
I’ll just trance for a moment—just until he gets back. He slid down in the bed, nestling under the covers.
When he next opened his eyes, there was a light snoring next to him and a small stack of books on the bedside table: an advanced transmutation text, a smutty romance novel, and a recently revised history of the Dynasty by the Cobalt Soul. The room was dark by human standards, but not so much so that he could not see. He felt a faint pressure on his wrist and glanced down to see two pale fingers resting on his pulse point. Caleb jerked awake as soon as he shifted.
“Was? Are you okay?”
Essek savored the sleep-mussed texture of Caleb’s hair, enjoying being able to watch without fear of being watched in return.
“I am fine, go back to sleep,” Essek replied softly. Caleb returned his fingers to his wrist.
“Are you… monitoring my pulse in your sleep?” Essek asked. Bemused fondness seeped into his voice.
“Ach, yes, but—”
He would later credit the darkness for emboldening him. He wrapped his fingers around Caleb’s wrist and pulled Caleb’s hand to rest on his chest.
“Here—if I stop breathing, you’ll know,” Essek said. He grabbed one of the books, thumbing through the pages as Caleb froze.
“Go back to sleep, I’m not going anywhere.”