"Jail seems like the place to meet all the best people in the Empire," Ro quips. "And I, for one, am grateful that you did it at least once more for my sake."
As the sun comes up, it chases away the sharper chill of night. Ro is happy to have his coat again all the same. He's also rather glad that Caleb seems well-practiced at traveling with people with a shorter gait than his own - he doesn't feel like he's constantly hurrying to catch up while walking at a relaxed pace.
The sunlight reveals the feathers hanging from Ro's staff are assorted. There are three black feathers, a couple that are downy gray with sharp black tips, and one black feather with two white dots near the end. The beads are actually black pearls and a small abalone shell.
Ro can't help but notice the lovely, fiery color of Caleb's hair.
It's a fire intentionally dulled to a less memorable shade by a not insignificant amount of dirt. As they walk, it occurs to Caleb that he'll have to appear somewhat more put together if they're headed to a wealthy city like Deastok. There, the filthy vagrant most people's eyes simply gloss over would stand out. A bath will go a long way, though he might also need to Disguise Self strategically to conceal his shabby clothes.
If it was cold inside, it is freezing outside, but that will let up significantly when the sun rises fully. For now, Caleb draws his coat closer around him and squeezes Nott's hand. At least Ro has his layers back now.
"If our destination is Deastok, we will need to adjust our course to the west." He nods in that direction, made obvious by the sun breaking over the horizon on the opposite side. But his internal sense of direction tells him that is the right way, too.
He looks more at Ro now, too, taking him in with the first rays of morning light now on him. His features are sharper than they were in the fuzzy half-dark of the cell, and the kind of relaxed confidence he holds himself with is more obvious when he isn't curled up and shivering. "You must have made your staff yourself," he says, a plausible excuse for his intermittent glances. "It is very pretty, but keep an eye on those pearls. Nott has sticky fingers when it comes to shiny baubles."
"Hey!" Nott protests, though she deflates almost immediately. "I wouldn't steal from your new friend, Caleb. Not until after he pays for a room, at least." The goblin leans forward to peer around Caleb at their new halfling companion, still clearly taking his measure.
"I don't hate the idea of the sun at our backs for a while," he admits. Then he offers Caleb a wry smile. "I'm used to navigating on the sea. And on the other side of the world, most of the time."
He knows the stars well, and with the sun out the cardinal directions are easy. But Caleb clearly knows the Empire, and that is helpful. He's grateful for the guidance, and for the companionship. He's been traveling on his own for a while.
Ro's hair is a deep black in the growing daylight; the dull sheen to it suggests it could use a wash. He certainly didn't have the chance for a bath before he got thrown into jail, never mind after. The light also reveals freckles across his cheeks the bridge of his nose. Ro lifts a brow when Caleb draws attention to his staff... and apparently Nott's propensity for theft.
"Oh, I wouldn't recommend stealing these," he says with solemn warning. "One of my patrons is the Matron, and I'd hate to imagine what sort of curse she might bestow on someone stealing from such a devoted cleric."
Despite addressing the warning to Nott, he glances at Caleb with a flash of amusement in his brown eyes.
"Bullshit," Nott declares, but it's easy to see that she feels less confident about that than she wants to be. Her voice wavers a little, and the way her yellow eyes narrow is more wary than suspicious.
Caleb tries not to smile, though the amusement he's hiding is there in his eyes, too, when Ro looks up to meet them. "Best to be safe, though," he says aloud, addressing Nott. He squeezes her hand. "The last thing we need is a god's curse. Ro here was a very agreeable cellmate, but he does have the matron's ear. Who knows what he is capable of?"
"Well," says Nott delicately, "we sprung him out of jail. That's got to earn us some god points, right?"
The corner of Caleb's mouth does curl up now. "Is that how it works, Ro? A cosmic point system tallied up by wandering clerics?" He is joking, but maybe Nott isn't actually so far off. He wouldn't presume to know.
"Raven shit," he corrects. He tries not to smile at the question Caleb poses.
"That's exactly how it works. And I have two patrons, so... double the points?"
Right? Sure. That's definitely how that works. He winks at Caleb, though, because surely people don't really--Then again, maybe they do think that. He finally breaks into a soft, bright smile as he looks down.
"I can't say we actually keep tallies, but... I don't recommend fucking with particularly devoted clerics, either. You never know how close to their god they are."
"See? It is a good thing we got locked up together. Now we know," Caleb tells Nott, who tugs his arm sharply.
"But you met me in jail first. You're not replacing me, are you, Caleb? I mean, sure, he's cute and cuddly--" She looks around him at Ro in a way Caleb could only call discerning, then earnestly back up. "--but I'm your best friend, right?"
"You are my best friend, Nott the Brave. I could never replace you," he assures before she can get any ideas otherwise. He does feel his face reflexively heat a little at the mention of cuddling, but he's honestly surprised she didn't bring it up sooner. Or immediately. "But our new friend has been generous and understanding, ja? Which is something we do not find everywhere we go."
"Sure," Nott agrees, and there is an endearing sternness about her when she tells Ro directly, "Caleb is extremely clever and thoughtful and obviously very handsome. So if you're getting cozy, you're the lucky one, and you should be putting in a good word for him with at least two gods."
Endearing and embarrassing. "Ah, Nott, that isn't--"
"What? You're a catch!" She blusters. In a stage whisper she might honestly think only he can hear, she adds, "Not that I don't support you getting laid. Actually, I encourage it."
It's all Caleb can manage to turn his now blazing face back to Ro and mouth I am so sorry.
Ro really does try to keep from smiling too much as Nott bounces between scrutinizing him and talking up Caleb.
"I am incredibly lucky to have found you both," he says, wanting to be clear that he knows the value of his companions.
He presses his lips together as Caleb mouths those words to him and tries to pretend he didn't hear Nott's aside to the human man.
"You are right, of course," he says to her while casting a look at Caleb. "He is very kind. And handsome."
Maybe he shouldn't, but Caleb's blush is too much to resist: Ro winks at him before facing the road ahead of them again. It's his attempt to give Caleb a moment to recover.
Not expecting the compliements and certainly not expecting to be winked at, Caleb's eloquent response is a sudden coughing fit, which he muffles in the sleeve of his coat as he looks away. At least all the blood rushing to his face is keeping it warm.
"See? He agrees!" Nott crows, as if that proves something. Somehow she's gone from scolding Ro to scolding him, but he'll take it. He'll take anything that isn't her going on like she had been.
The flirting--Caleb had identified it before, and now he's sure. It must be just part of Ro's personality; he's a charming man. It must be that, because the alternative is that he means it, and Caleb can't bring himself to believe that right now. It's been too long since someone looked at him and thought that he was seriously worth flirting with. This is by design.
Apparently his response has endeared Ro to Nott quite a bit, because she starts chatting with him eagerly after, which is good when Caleb cannot contribute. He sinks deeper into his scarf and looks ahead. It is cold. He can use that as an excuse, even if it is a flimsy one.
Ro can't stop his smile as they walk, and the day feels a bit brighter and easier from there.
They spend most of the day away from the road - it isn't difficult to cut across country between Ro's sense of direction and Caleb's knowledge of the land. It isn't difficult walking, and comfortable silences are broken up by conversation whenever Nott thinks of something to ask or whenever either Ro or Caleb are struck by a topic to bring up.
As the sun starts to sink toward the horizon, their attention turns toward finding a safe place to camp for the night. Between them, that isn't very difficult either, though they still take care to remain away from the road. By Caleb's thinking, they should be relatively safe to return to it tomorrow, given the distance they've put between themselves and the village they escaped.
Ro leaves Caleb and Nott to make a fire pit while he disappears to the nearby stream. Before too long, he comes back with some fish to cook.
While they wait for their dinner, or perhaps after, Ro unwraps the lute tied to his pack and tunes it before he plays one of the quieter tunes he knows.
Caleb has settled with his back to an exposed tree root and his legs stretched toward their modest campfire, warming his toes. Nott crouches nearby, still nibbling at her dinner, though the fish bones are nearly picked clean already. Caleb can relate; he'd used fingers and teeth to pry loose every bit of flesh he could, though he'd offered the eyes to Nott. Along with fresh water from the stream, some stolen bread, and an apple each, this is easily the best meal they've had in some time.
As if that weren't enough to be able to call this a good night, now there is music, too. Caleb doesn't know the song Ro is playing, but it is nice all the same. His eyes are closed, and his feet tap lightly against the ground as he picks up the slow rhythm. With the other hand he pets Frumpkin, curled up and purring in his lap. Feeling safe anywhere is foolish and dangerous, but at the very least he feels relaxed, which is rare enough. The trees are thick enough around them to hide the smoke from their fire, having three people for watch is much better than two, and it is encouraging to think that if something should happen, there is a healer on hand.
"This is a real treat for us," he says, eyes sliding open and head turning toward their new halfling companion. "Dinner and music. Isn't it, Nott?"
Nott perks up, long goblinoid ears lifting. "Oh, yes. Very nice!" She chirps, flashing crooked fangs around a mouthful of fish bones.
"What is the song you are playing?" Caleb wonders. "Something from Tal'Dorei?"
Ro smiles warmly as Nott pipes up with a sharp grin. He looks back down at his lute, though he doesn't really need to pay attention anymore to what he's playing - he knows it well.
"Happy to provide," he says, sincere in the sentiment. He looks over at Caleb when he asks about the song. "It's one I picked up on the Ozmit Sea," he answers, rather than saying it belongs to any one continent. "It's the first ocean I ever sailed on, and the one I grew up staring at."
He plays with more intention and, after a moment, begins to sing with quiet confidence:
"When the night is long and we're all full of dread, oh where am I to go? For we're all good n' lost and we're missing our beds, o Lady take us home. When we've run through our stores and our taking is high and we've nowhere left to roam, oh we'll keep our chins up and we'll look to the sky. O Lady take us home."
For the sake of his audience, Ro circles back to sing the entire song. At some point in his playing, his own foot starts tapping, keeping beat for himself and in time with Caleb's. In the song there's the mention of a copper-haired landlady, and Ro makes it a point to make eye contact with the copper-haired wizard sitting near him as he sings that part.
As a man who has never seen the ocean before--any ocean--Caleb is more than a little charmed by that explanation. He nods, and falls quiet again, curious and listening intently, as Ro begins to sing. His voice is smooth and clear, very pleasant to listen to, and carries the song well. Caleb finds his foot tapping with more confidence as it goes along, and out of the corner of his eye sees Nott sitting cross-legged beside the fire and swaying more or less in time as well, which makes him smile.
There is a moment as he goes into the second verse where Ro's eyes lift and meet his. I was struck by the sheen of her copper red hair, he sings, and Caleb feels his face heat and his heart skip anxiously. He's too much of a coward to maintain eye contact for long, so he ducks his chin down into his scarf and scritches Frumpkin's head nervously in a way he knows is awkward, maybe even rude. But he can't--he doesn't know what to do with that. Caleb is aware Ro is just being friendly and having fun. But he's gone so long trying not to be noticed that any positive attention at all flusters him, especially from a man so kind, clever, and handsome.
Nonetheless, his foot continues to keep the beat, and when Frumpkin stretches and gets up from his lap, his fingers tap along against his knee, too. He manages to look at the halfling again before the song finishes, easier without the direct connection that had startled him so, and still has his stomach in a gentle knot.
It's been years--years and years--since he spent so much time around anyone other than Nott. Clearly he needs practice.
He joins Nott's clapping when the song comes to an end, desperately hoping he can manage to be slightly more normal for the remainder of the evening. "Another, another!" Nott cheers, saving him from having to say anything himself. He merely nods in agreement, and hopes his smile looks more natural than it feels.
Ro smiles bashfully when Nott and Caleb both applaud for him. He sweeps his arm out and bows over his lute with a flourish.
"You are the most gracious audience I've had in a while," he quips. His smile brightens when Nott insists on another. Ro peers over at Caleb, who looks--shy? Awkward? He's not entirely sure, but it's kind of cute.
Unable to resist the chance to maybe get a bit further into Nott's good graces, Ro picks up another song, one that's newer to him. At first he just plays a bit of it, then he peers over at Caleb again, his dark eyes warm and bright in the firelight.
"You'll have to tell me if this is something terrible," he says with a wry smile. "It's in Zemnian, I learned it from a bard a few towns over."
Ro feels a bit self-conscious choosing this song, of all things, when there is a man sitting here who speaks the language that he's about to sing in. A language that he barely knows at all. But he wants to try. And he's learned, through singing the song, that... there are things about Zemnian and Common that aren't that different. He thinks he understands some parts of it now, but not enough to say for sure he knows what it's about.
"Ich ging durch's Heidemoor allein, da hörte ich drei Vögel schreien. Auf einem Baum drei Raben stolz waren so schwarz wie Ebenholz."
Even if he doesn't speak Zemnian, Ro's pronunciation is smooth - almost flawless in terms of its mimicry. He's been practicing.
Caleb can't help the way he perks up when Ro announces the next song will be in Zemnian. He feels Nott pat his arm excitedly, and he sits up, curious, as Ro begins to strum.
He can't know what the words mean, but as he begins to sing, Caleb notes right away that his pronunciation is quite good; a useful skill, and probably a fair bit of practice. It's only a few lines before Caleb recognizes the song. Oh, he happens to know this one quite well.
The first time he heard it was in Blumenthal, when he was young, but it wasn't uncommon in the taverns and beer halls of Rexxentrum, either. It's been years, but he still finds himself humming along before he can think better of it, quiet but resonating. It's a bit melancholy in the way that many Zemnian songs and stories tend to be, but with an underlying sweetness. He remembers it in Wulf's low voice, the vibration through his wide chest as Bren pressed his ear against it, pleasantly beer-drowsy, the three of them tucked into a corner table as the bard sang.
Ro's voice couldn't be more different, but the feeling it conjures is also both melancholy and sweet. Caleb's expression is soft, though his eyes are a little distant, as he sings along in his head. For most of the song, at least. Toward the end, the words change to ones he hasn't heard before.
That stirs him from his half-reverie. This new ending outlines the futility of the hero's death, killed fighting for the sake of a more powerful man who will never acknowledge his sacrifice. It makes the grief of those who loved him loyally stand out starkly. The criticism of the Empire itself in the change is not veiled. This is the sort of thing his training taught him was worth keeping an ear out for, perhaps even a little digging, just to see if the bard might share more than sympathies with one of the underground resistance groups.
In many ways, it hits a little too close to home now.
Caleb claps again when Ro reaches the end, and offers, "Gut gemacht. That was very good. Your Zemnian, also. That song is fairly well known in the part of the Empire I am from. Though someone has altered the ending since the last time I heard it." Which, admittedly, was a long time ago.
When Ro looks as he sings the last verse, he catches something as it flickers across Caleb's face, though he isn't quite sure what it is. He lowers his gaze again as he finishes with a slow strum, and a smile lights his face as he's offered applause again.
"Thank you, I've been practicing. It'd be embarrassing to sound bad singing a song badly in a language other people actually know," he says with a wry look. He tips his head when Caleb says the ending has changed since he last heard it and that makes Ro wonder. "How has it changed? If you don't mind my asking. And uhm. What's it about?"
The bard he learned it from had only given a gist, and he's picked up what he can from just singing it over and over again, but there's only so far he can get without knowing the language.
Caleb is ready to explain, and equally ready to warn his new companion about yet another seemingly harmless way to end up in an Empire jail cell.
"Ja, so first of all, you could get arrested for singing that one," he says, blunt but informative. Just getting that out of the way first. Helpfully, Nott gives a low horrified shriek. "That last verse, anyway. I am surprised the bard who taught you did not warn you about the anti-Empire sentiment."
Concerning, actually, what could have happened if Ro performed this casually at a crossroads inn some evening.
"Most if it is equivalent to the original that I grew up with, which is a bit gloomy in the way of many Zemnian tales. Three ravens discuss making their next meal of a fallen hero who lies wounded after a great battle. The hero's dog never leaves his side and his hawks keep the carrion birds at bay, but his lover is far too late, and he is dead long before she arrives. She buries him, and dies by the end of the day herself. Love and loyalty, and so on. The ending of this new version, though--well, I will give it a rough translation for you."
And he does. Easily recalling the words in Zemnian, he approximates their meaning in Common as best as he can in a rather flat recitation.
And again a faithful man lies in the moor A hero who lost everything for no reason. A new grave for an old war For the dear tale of glory and heroic victory. For the short rage of a nobleman Who once thought highly of revenge. For a king he didn't even know He now lies dead in a far country.
"So you can see the problem," he finishes. "But, ah...at least it is only Nott and I you have played it for?" He hopes, at least.
Ro's eyes widen when Caleb says, very bluntly, that the song could get him in as much trouble - or likely more - than wearing the wrong holy symbol. His brows knit and the surprise turns to a concerned sort of interest as he listens. He remembers the bard well, and somehow it doesn't really surprise him to learn of the anti-Empire sentiment hidden - or not so hidden - in the final verse.
He sits back, the contemplative frown still fixed in his expression as he listens - first to the general gist of the song, then to the final verse. He absently plucks a tune, even if Caleb's recitation is flat. It gives him something to do with his hands while he thinks.
"Mm, I see," he says after a moment, if only to acknowledge that he understands why he would get in trouble for it. Ro is quiet for a few seconds more, considering what would make a person change a traditional song possibly well-known by so many. "Well, I can't say I don't like the verse as the bard taught it to me. But maybe I just keep this one to myself until I'm out of the Empire."
And off places where most people might not know the language he'd be singing in anyway. He looks at Caleb, searching him. Even Ro isn't quite sure for what.
"Thank you," he adds as his expression finally smooths into something that at least seems happier. "The rest of the song sounds... well. Nice isn't the right word. But it's a good ballad. I'll be careful," he adds. "Be a shame to undo your good work trying to earn some coin."
"Ja, it would be," Caleb agrees with a thin, apologetic smile. It is better to have told Ro than not, but it doesn't feel good. "I enjoyed your performance, at least. And I think you should sing that verse elsewhere, when you can."
It unsettles him because it reminds him of another life, where he could have been the one ordering the arrest--or worse. Of lives lost needlessly in service to a false patriotism. Proof that the message it conveys works.
"It...completes the song with a gravity the original ending did not."
Suddenly self-conscious, he glances away from Ro, looking down at his boots instead before he reaches for Frumpkin to drag him back into his lap.
"Thank you for playing for us tonight," he says, talking to Ro but looking at Frumpkin. "I would gladly hear another from the sea, if you are inclined."
"My pleasure, really." Ro smiles brighter, attempting to ease the shadow that's passed across Caleb's face. He adjusts his position and gives his lute a decisive strum when the other man suggests another song from somewhere far away. Ro can do that.
"Happy to oblige." And he is, Ro picks up a song he learned in Emon, something more upbeat with significant innuendo but nothing that's outright dirty - a song for plausible deniability should an establishment want to avoid anything to ribald. Just something to lighten the mood. If he gets Nott laughing, he'll call it a victory.
Ro plays a few more songs, winding down to quieter ones as Nott starts to nod off and as he starts feeling drowsy himself. He murmurs a goodnight to them both before disappearing beneath his cloak, curled against a nook in the tree roots that is about halfling-sized. He doesn't want to presume that Caleb would be okay with cuddling again for warmth, especially when it's clear Nott already had that idea.
Morning comes with a low mist and chill, but no clouds: hopefully the sun will burn it away as it rises higher. Ro feels stiff, but nothing worse than any other night on the road. Ro isn't the best morning person. Not surly, but quiet for the first hour or so as they all get ready to hit the road again.
"Should we stay off the road?" he asks, only a bit uncertain. He imagines, hopefully, Caleb and Nott might have a better idea of the risk.
Before they bed down for the night, Caleb's unease does noticeably fade, thanks to Ro's songs and Nott's merriment. Just as she does each night, Nott scurries into his arms and curls up against him, and he arcs his body around her smaller one to keep her nice and warm. He mutters a quiet Gute Nacht in return as Ro finds a spot among the roots nearby to pull his cloak over himself. For a moment, Caleb had considered inviting him closer to stay warm again, but he understands preferring to keep to himself now that he has his gear back, and leaves him be.
In the morning, he appreciates the quiet as he scatters the evidence of their campfire and they get ready to move again. Nott is especially sleepy today. He winds up hoisting her up piggy-back so she can keep resting for a little longer, and feels her yawn against the back of his shoulder.
"No no, I think we will be good from here," he decides, automatically starting off in the direction he knows the road to be. "We made good headway yesterday. The sooner we can get behind city walls, the better." He offers a small half smile, glancing over then away again.
As they get moving and the sun climbs higher, the lingering chill in his extremities fades into the pleasant warmth of exertion.
"I don't mind camping, but a bed might be nice," he says with a wry little smile. He feels better as they get moving, and he tries to match the mood of the other two: he'll talk if anyone is feeling chatty, but he doesn't try to fill the silence if it lingers. At least the day is turning into a nice one. Ro can't hold the government against the landscape, and while they walk it's easy not to think about what could have been had he not rescued by the strange duo he's traveling with now.
It's nice enough that Ro ends up putting his cloak back into his pack when they stop in the afternoon. After a rest, it's back on the road. Ro's actually hoping they find a town tonight.
"Are you both from here? The Empire, I mean." Ro figures Caleb must be with the accent and the fact that he seems to be a native Zemnian speaker, but Nott could be from anywhere. Hopefully he doesn't hit the paranoia he's noticed in both of them; he really is just trying to make conversation.
"A bed is always nice," Caleb agrees, with more than a little longing. Opportunities to sleep in a real bed are a rare treat. But if Ro is paying, and they reach a sizable enough town tonight, then maybe. He doesn't want to risk another smaller village just yet.
Travel is faster and easier once they hit the road, and eventually Nott slides down from his back to walk on her own, thankfully for his arms. Caleb unwinds his scarf at the same time that Ro packs his cloak away. He removes his coat while they stop to rest, but dons it as they get moving again.
The question Ro ventures is general enough that it doesn't set off any alarms; it's easy enough to tell by his accent where he is from, and he certainly couldn't pretend otherwise even if he wanted to. He gives an affirmative hum and looks down at the newer of his two small companions.
"I am, ja. The northern part, closer to the capital. I have spent my whole life here." Probably best to deflect a little anyway, just so he doesn't encourage deeper digging. As ever, it's better to seem unremarkable. "So your life of travel is very interesting to me."
Nott, who has had her hood up all day, looks up as Caleb gently taps her shoulder. "Oh, yup!" she exclaims, a little too shrill. Caleb knows what nerves look like on her; like him, she doesn't like discussing her past. It's part of the reason they work so well together. "Me too. Born and raised! But like, by goblins, so mostly just in woods and caves and stuff."
"I only really spend my time between a handful of places," Ro admits. Caleb's answer offers enough without revealing too much; Nott's nervous squeak gives her away a little more. But she's a goblin traveling with a mask and bandages covering as much as she can manage. There's plenty of reasons why someone wouldn't want to discuss their past.
"I grew up in a little fishing village." Well, he can talk about himself a bit. He doesn't have a lot to hide, at least not regarding where he's from. "My mother found me on the shore and I grew up with a family of humans. Five brothers and sisters."
As he speaks of them, he misses them. He can already imagine faces if or when he ever tells them about being arrested. It won't be the most dire straits he's ever found himself in, so it should make for a decent story if he embellishes a little here and there.
Ro, at least, has no qualms talking about his past--that or lying quite convincingly. Either way, Caleb is interested. It's nice in the way that his singing was nice; he can imagine something that has nothing to do with himself for a little while. It's certainly a whimsical enough story.
"So you came to your family from the sea?" he asks, at the same time that Nott squawks, "Five?!"
There is a warm and genuine curiosity in Caleb's expression, understated as it is, as he looks down at the halfling. A little fishing village seems like it might have a few things in common with a little farming village.
Ro can't help but smile at the contrasting reactions to what he's told so far. Caleb's warm curiosity is what keeps him going.
"Washed up in a cradle that floated like a little boat," he says with a small, distant smile. "At least, that's how she tells it. They already had two children, so keeping me as a third wasn't trouble. Especially being so small--Oh, they're all human," he adds by way of explanation.
"My little siblings all outgrew me by the time they were toddlers." That had been hard, just as it had been difficult to always be the smallest child in the village. A runt, no matter how loved. "I'm sure I caused my parents a good deal of anxiety, especially when I got it in my head that I needed to--prove myself to the other village children."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
As the sun comes up, it chases away the sharper chill of night. Ro is happy to have his coat again all the same. He's also rather glad that Caleb seems well-practiced at traveling with people with a shorter gait than his own - he doesn't feel like he's constantly hurrying to catch up while walking at a relaxed pace.
The sunlight reveals the feathers hanging from Ro's staff are assorted. There are three black feathers, a couple that are downy gray with sharp black tips, and one black feather with two white dots near the end. The beads are actually black pearls and a small abalone shell.
Ro can't help but notice the lovely, fiery color of Caleb's hair.
no subject
If it was cold inside, it is freezing outside, but that will let up significantly when the sun rises fully. For now, Caleb draws his coat closer around him and squeezes Nott's hand. At least Ro has his layers back now.
"If our destination is Deastok, we will need to adjust our course to the west." He nods in that direction, made obvious by the sun breaking over the horizon on the opposite side. But his internal sense of direction tells him that is the right way, too.
He looks more at Ro now, too, taking him in with the first rays of morning light now on him. His features are sharper than they were in the fuzzy half-dark of the cell, and the kind of relaxed confidence he holds himself with is more obvious when he isn't curled up and shivering. "You must have made your staff yourself," he says, a plausible excuse for his intermittent glances. "It is very pretty, but keep an eye on those pearls. Nott has sticky fingers when it comes to shiny baubles."
"Hey!" Nott protests, though she deflates almost immediately. "I wouldn't steal from your new friend, Caleb. Not until after he pays for a room, at least." The goblin leans forward to peer around Caleb at their new halfling companion, still clearly taking his measure.
no subject
He knows the stars well, and with the sun out the cardinal directions are easy. But Caleb clearly knows the Empire, and that is helpful. He's grateful for the guidance, and for the companionship. He's been traveling on his own for a while.
Ro's hair is a deep black in the growing daylight; the dull sheen to it suggests it could use a wash. He certainly didn't have the chance for a bath before he got thrown into jail, never mind after. The light also reveals freckles across his cheeks the bridge of his nose. Ro lifts a brow when Caleb draws attention to his staff... and apparently Nott's propensity for theft.
"Oh, I wouldn't recommend stealing these," he says with solemn warning. "One of my patrons is the Matron, and I'd hate to imagine what sort of curse she might bestow on someone stealing from such a devoted cleric."
Despite addressing the warning to Nott, he glances at Caleb with a flash of amusement in his brown eyes.
no subject
Caleb tries not to smile, though the amusement he's hiding is there in his eyes, too, when Ro looks up to meet them. "Best to be safe, though," he says aloud, addressing Nott. He squeezes her hand. "The last thing we need is a god's curse. Ro here was a very agreeable cellmate, but he does have the matron's ear. Who knows what he is capable of?"
"Well," says Nott delicately, "we sprung him out of jail. That's got to earn us some god points, right?"
The corner of Caleb's mouth does curl up now. "Is that how it works, Ro? A cosmic point system tallied up by wandering clerics?" He is joking, but maybe Nott isn't actually so far off. He wouldn't presume to know.
no subject
"That's exactly how it works. And I have two patrons, so... double the points?"
Right? Sure. That's definitely how that works. He winks at Caleb, though, because surely people don't really--Then again, maybe they do think that. He finally breaks into a soft, bright smile as he looks down.
"I can't say we actually keep tallies, but... I don't recommend fucking with particularly devoted clerics, either. You never know how close to their god they are."
no subject
"But you met me in jail first. You're not replacing me, are you, Caleb? I mean, sure, he's cute and cuddly--" She looks around him at Ro in a way Caleb could only call discerning, then earnestly back up. "--but I'm your best friend, right?"
"You are my best friend, Nott the Brave. I could never replace you," he assures before she can get any ideas otherwise. He does feel his face reflexively heat a little at the mention of cuddling, but he's honestly surprised she didn't bring it up sooner. Or immediately. "But our new friend has been generous and understanding, ja? Which is something we do not find everywhere we go."
"Sure," Nott agrees, and there is an endearing sternness about her when she tells Ro directly, "Caleb is extremely clever and thoughtful and obviously very handsome. So if you're getting cozy, you're the lucky one, and you should be putting in a good word for him with at least two gods."
Endearing and embarrassing. "Ah, Nott, that isn't--"
"What? You're a catch!" She blusters. In a stage whisper she might honestly think only he can hear, she adds, "Not that I don't support you getting laid. Actually, I encourage it."
It's all Caleb can manage to turn his now blazing face back to Ro and mouth I am so sorry.
no subject
"I am incredibly lucky to have found you both," he says, wanting to be clear that he knows the value of his companions.
He presses his lips together as Caleb mouths those words to him and tries to pretend he didn't hear Nott's aside to the human man.
"You are right, of course," he says to her while casting a look at Caleb. "He is very kind. And handsome."
Maybe he shouldn't, but Caleb's blush is too much to resist: Ro winks at him before facing the road ahead of them again. It's his attempt to give Caleb a moment to recover.
no subject
"See? He agrees!" Nott crows, as if that proves something. Somehow she's gone from scolding Ro to scolding him, but he'll take it. He'll take anything that isn't her going on like she had been.
The flirting--Caleb had identified it before, and now he's sure. It must be just part of Ro's personality; he's a charming man. It must be that, because the alternative is that he means it, and Caleb can't bring himself to believe that right now. It's been too long since someone looked at him and thought that he was seriously worth flirting with. This is by design.
Apparently his response has endeared Ro to Nott quite a bit, because she starts chatting with him eagerly after, which is good when Caleb cannot contribute. He sinks deeper into his scarf and looks ahead. It is cold. He can use that as an excuse, even if it is a flimsy one.
no subject
They spend most of the day away from the road - it isn't difficult to cut across country between Ro's sense of direction and Caleb's knowledge of the land. It isn't difficult walking, and comfortable silences are broken up by conversation whenever Nott thinks of something to ask or whenever either Ro or Caleb are struck by a topic to bring up.
As the sun starts to sink toward the horizon, their attention turns toward finding a safe place to camp for the night. Between them, that isn't very difficult either, though they still take care to remain away from the road. By Caleb's thinking, they should be relatively safe to return to it tomorrow, given the distance they've put between themselves and the village they escaped.
Ro leaves Caleb and Nott to make a fire pit while he disappears to the nearby stream. Before too long, he comes back with some fish to cook.
While they wait for their dinner, or perhaps after, Ro unwraps the lute tied to his pack and tunes it before he plays one of the quieter tunes he knows.
no subject
As if that weren't enough to be able to call this a good night, now there is music, too. Caleb doesn't know the song Ro is playing, but it is nice all the same. His eyes are closed, and his feet tap lightly against the ground as he picks up the slow rhythm. With the other hand he pets Frumpkin, curled up and purring in his lap. Feeling safe anywhere is foolish and dangerous, but at the very least he feels relaxed, which is rare enough. The trees are thick enough around them to hide the smoke from their fire, having three people for watch is much better than two, and it is encouraging to think that if something should happen, there is a healer on hand.
"This is a real treat for us," he says, eyes sliding open and head turning toward their new halfling companion. "Dinner and music. Isn't it, Nott?"
Nott perks up, long goblinoid ears lifting. "Oh, yes. Very nice!" She chirps, flashing crooked fangs around a mouthful of fish bones.
"What is the song you are playing?" Caleb wonders. "Something from Tal'Dorei?"
no subject
"Happy to provide," he says, sincere in the sentiment. He looks over at Caleb when he asks about the song. "It's one I picked up on the Ozmit Sea," he answers, rather than saying it belongs to any one continent. "It's the first ocean I ever sailed on, and the one I grew up staring at."
He plays with more intention and, after a moment, begins to sing with quiet confidence:
"When the night is long and we're all full of dread, oh where am I to go? For we're all good n' lost and we're missing our beds, o Lady take us home. When we've run through our stores and our taking is high and we've nowhere left to roam, oh we'll keep our chins up and we'll look to the sky. O Lady take us home."
For the sake of his audience, Ro circles back to sing the entire song. At some point in his playing, his own foot starts tapping, keeping beat for himself and in time with Caleb's. In the song there's the mention of a copper-haired landlady, and Ro makes it a point to make eye contact with the copper-haired wizard sitting near him as he sings that part.
no subject
There is a moment as he goes into the second verse where Ro's eyes lift and meet his. I was struck by the sheen of her copper red hair, he sings, and Caleb feels his face heat and his heart skip anxiously. He's too much of a coward to maintain eye contact for long, so he ducks his chin down into his scarf and scritches Frumpkin's head nervously in a way he knows is awkward, maybe even rude. But he can't--he doesn't know what to do with that. Caleb is aware Ro is just being friendly and having fun. But he's gone so long trying not to be noticed that any positive attention at all flusters him, especially from a man so kind, clever, and handsome.
Nonetheless, his foot continues to keep the beat, and when Frumpkin stretches and gets up from his lap, his fingers tap along against his knee, too. He manages to look at the halfling again before the song finishes, easier without the direct connection that had startled him so, and still has his stomach in a gentle knot.
It's been years--years and years--since he spent so much time around anyone other than Nott. Clearly he needs practice.
He joins Nott's clapping when the song comes to an end, desperately hoping he can manage to be slightly more normal for the remainder of the evening. "Another, another!" Nott cheers, saving him from having to say anything himself. He merely nods in agreement, and hopes his smile looks more natural than it feels.
no subject
"You are the most gracious audience I've had in a while," he quips. His smile brightens when Nott insists on another. Ro peers over at Caleb, who looks--shy? Awkward? He's not entirely sure, but it's kind of cute.
Unable to resist the chance to maybe get a bit further into Nott's good graces, Ro picks up another song, one that's newer to him. At first he just plays a bit of it, then he peers over at Caleb again, his dark eyes warm and bright in the firelight.
"You'll have to tell me if this is something terrible," he says with a wry smile. "It's in Zemnian, I learned it from a bard a few towns over."
Ro feels a bit self-conscious choosing this song, of all things, when there is a man sitting here who speaks the language that he's about to sing in. A language that he barely knows at all. But he wants to try. And he's learned, through singing the song, that... there are things about Zemnian and Common that aren't that different. He thinks he understands some parts of it now, but not enough to say for sure he knows what it's about.
"Ich ging durch's Heidemoor allein, da hörte ich drei Vögel schreien. Auf einem Baum drei Raben stolz waren so schwarz wie Ebenholz."
Even if he doesn't speak Zemnian, Ro's pronunciation is smooth - almost flawless in terms of its mimicry. He's been practicing.
no subject
He can't know what the words mean, but as he begins to sing, Caleb notes right away that his pronunciation is quite good; a useful skill, and probably a fair bit of practice. It's only a few lines before Caleb recognizes the song. Oh, he happens to know this one quite well.
The first time he heard it was in Blumenthal, when he was young, but it wasn't uncommon in the taverns and beer halls of Rexxentrum, either. It's been years, but he still finds himself humming along before he can think better of it, quiet but resonating. It's a bit melancholy in the way that many Zemnian songs and stories tend to be, but with an underlying sweetness. He remembers it in Wulf's low voice, the vibration through his wide chest as Bren pressed his ear against it, pleasantly beer-drowsy, the three of them tucked into a corner table as the bard sang.
Ro's voice couldn't be more different, but the feeling it conjures is also both melancholy and sweet. Caleb's expression is soft, though his eyes are a little distant, as he sings along in his head. For most of the song, at least. Toward the end, the words change to ones he hasn't heard before.
That stirs him from his half-reverie. This new ending outlines the futility of the hero's death, killed fighting for the sake of a more powerful man who will never acknowledge his sacrifice. It makes the grief of those who loved him loyally stand out starkly. The criticism of the Empire itself in the change is not veiled. This is the sort of thing his training taught him was worth keeping an ear out for, perhaps even a little digging, just to see if the bard might share more than sympathies with one of the underground resistance groups.
In many ways, it hits a little too close to home now.
Caleb claps again when Ro reaches the end, and offers, "Gut gemacht. That was very good. Your Zemnian, also. That song is fairly well known in the part of the Empire I am from. Though someone has altered the ending since the last time I heard it." Which, admittedly, was a long time ago.
no subject
"Thank you, I've been practicing. It'd be embarrassing to sound bad singing a song badly in a language other people actually know," he says with a wry look. He tips his head when Caleb says the ending has changed since he last heard it and that makes Ro wonder. "How has it changed? If you don't mind my asking. And uhm. What's it about?"
The bard he learned it from had only given a gist, and he's picked up what he can from just singing it over and over again, but there's only so far he can get without knowing the language.
no subject
"Ja, so first of all, you could get arrested for singing that one," he says, blunt but informative. Just getting that out of the way first. Helpfully, Nott gives a low horrified shriek. "That last verse, anyway. I am surprised the bard who taught you did not warn you about the anti-Empire sentiment."
Concerning, actually, what could have happened if Ro performed this casually at a crossroads inn some evening.
"Most if it is equivalent to the original that I grew up with, which is a bit gloomy in the way of many Zemnian tales. Three ravens discuss making their next meal of a fallen hero who lies wounded after a great battle. The hero's dog never leaves his side and his hawks keep the carrion birds at bay, but his lover is far too late, and he is dead long before she arrives. She buries him, and dies by the end of the day herself. Love and loyalty, and so on. The ending of this new version, though--well, I will give it a rough translation for you."
And he does. Easily recalling the words in Zemnian, he approximates their meaning in Common as best as he can in a rather flat recitation.
And again a faithful man lies in the moor
A hero who lost everything for no reason.
A new grave for an old war
For the dear tale of glory and heroic victory.
For the short rage of a nobleman
Who once thought highly of revenge.
For a king he didn't even know
He now lies dead in a far country.
"So you can see the problem," he finishes. "But, ah...at least it is only Nott and I you have played it for?" He hopes, at least.
no subject
He sits back, the contemplative frown still fixed in his expression as he listens - first to the general gist of the song, then to the final verse. He absently plucks a tune, even if Caleb's recitation is flat. It gives him something to do with his hands while he thinks.
"Mm, I see," he says after a moment, if only to acknowledge that he understands why he would get in trouble for it. Ro is quiet for a few seconds more, considering what would make a person change a traditional song possibly well-known by so many. "Well, I can't say I don't like the verse as the bard taught it to me. But maybe I just keep this one to myself until I'm out of the Empire."
And off places where most people might not know the language he'd be singing in anyway. He looks at Caleb, searching him. Even Ro isn't quite sure for what.
"Thank you," he adds as his expression finally smooths into something that at least seems happier. "The rest of the song sounds... well. Nice isn't the right word. But it's a good ballad. I'll be careful," he adds. "Be a shame to undo your good work trying to earn some coin."
no subject
It unsettles him because it reminds him of another life, where he could have been the one ordering the arrest--or worse. Of lives lost needlessly in service to a false patriotism. Proof that the message it conveys works.
"It...completes the song with a gravity the original ending did not."
Suddenly self-conscious, he glances away from Ro, looking down at his boots instead before he reaches for Frumpkin to drag him back into his lap.
"Thank you for playing for us tonight," he says, talking to Ro but looking at Frumpkin. "I would gladly hear another from the sea, if you are inclined."
no subject
"Happy to oblige." And he is, Ro picks up a song he learned in Emon, something more upbeat with significant innuendo but nothing that's outright dirty - a song for plausible deniability should an establishment want to avoid anything to ribald. Just something to lighten the mood. If he gets Nott laughing, he'll call it a victory.
Ro plays a few more songs, winding down to quieter ones as Nott starts to nod off and as he starts feeling drowsy himself. He murmurs a goodnight to them both before disappearing beneath his cloak, curled against a nook in the tree roots that is about halfling-sized. He doesn't want to presume that Caleb would be okay with cuddling again for warmth, especially when it's clear Nott already had that idea.
Morning comes with a low mist and chill, but no clouds: hopefully the sun will burn it away as it rises higher. Ro feels stiff, but nothing worse than any other night on the road. Ro isn't the best morning person. Not surly, but quiet for the first hour or so as they all get ready to hit the road again.
"Should we stay off the road?" he asks, only a bit uncertain. He imagines, hopefully, Caleb and Nott might have a better idea of the risk.
no subject
In the morning, he appreciates the quiet as he scatters the evidence of their campfire and they get ready to move again. Nott is especially sleepy today. He winds up hoisting her up piggy-back so she can keep resting for a little longer, and feels her yawn against the back of his shoulder.
"No no, I think we will be good from here," he decides, automatically starting off in the direction he knows the road to be. "We made good headway yesterday. The sooner we can get behind city walls, the better." He offers a small half smile, glancing over then away again.
As they get moving and the sun climbs higher, the lingering chill in his extremities fades into the pleasant warmth of exertion.
no subject
It's nice enough that Ro ends up putting his cloak back into his pack when they stop in the afternoon. After a rest, it's back on the road. Ro's actually hoping they find a town tonight.
"Are you both from here? The Empire, I mean." Ro figures Caleb must be with the accent and the fact that he seems to be a native Zemnian speaker, but Nott could be from anywhere. Hopefully he doesn't hit the paranoia he's noticed in both of them; he really is just trying to make conversation.
no subject
Travel is faster and easier once they hit the road, and eventually Nott slides down from his back to walk on her own, thankfully for his arms. Caleb unwinds his scarf at the same time that Ro packs his cloak away. He removes his coat while they stop to rest, but dons it as they get moving again.
The question Ro ventures is general enough that it doesn't set off any alarms; it's easy enough to tell by his accent where he is from, and he certainly couldn't pretend otherwise even if he wanted to. He gives an affirmative hum and looks down at the newer of his two small companions.
"I am, ja. The northern part, closer to the capital. I have spent my whole life here." Probably best to deflect a little anyway, just so he doesn't encourage deeper digging. As ever, it's better to seem unremarkable. "So your life of travel is very interesting to me."
Nott, who has had her hood up all day, looks up as Caleb gently taps her shoulder. "Oh, yup!" she exclaims, a little too shrill. Caleb knows what nerves look like on her; like him, she doesn't like discussing her past. It's part of the reason they work so well together. "Me too. Born and raised! But like, by goblins, so mostly just in woods and caves and stuff."
no subject
"I grew up in a little fishing village." Well, he can talk about himself a bit. He doesn't have a lot to hide, at least not regarding where he's from. "My mother found me on the shore and I grew up with a family of humans. Five brothers and sisters."
As he speaks of them, he misses them. He can already imagine faces if or when he ever tells them about being arrested. It won't be the most dire straits he's ever found himself in, so it should make for a decent story if he embellishes a little here and there.
no subject
"So you came to your family from the sea?" he asks, at the same time that Nott squawks, "Five?!"
There is a warm and genuine curiosity in Caleb's expression, understated as it is, as he looks down at the halfling. A little fishing village seems like it might have a few things in common with a little farming village.
no subject
"Washed up in a cradle that floated like a little boat," he says with a small, distant smile. "At least, that's how she tells it. They already had two children, so keeping me as a third wasn't trouble. Especially being so small--Oh, they're all human," he adds by way of explanation.
"My little siblings all outgrew me by the time they were toddlers." That had been hard, just as it had been difficult to always be the smallest child in the village. A runt, no matter how loved. "I'm sure I caused my parents a good deal of anxiety, especially when I got it in my head that I needed to--prove myself to the other village children."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)