"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."
The tale only grows more whimsical from there, but it makes Caleb smile faintly. Meanwhile, Nott grins sharp and wide, round yellow eyes bright.
"I bet those big folks didn't know what hit 'em. They always think they know what to expect from us." She glances up, pulling her flask from a deep pocket and taking a swig of whatever booze remains. "No offense, Caleb. You know better now."
"None taken," he assures, patting his little friend between her bony shoulders before looking back to Ro.
If he was found as he describes, it follows that he was set adrift from somewhere. For what reason is a mystery. Caleb's curiosity persists, but it seems as if that could venture into quite personal territory. Does he feel abandoned? It sounds like his family loved him very much, but that doesn't erase any difficulties he may have experienced.
"Do you feel this is why you are called to the sea? Because that is where you came from?" he asks, more lighthearted than his musings.
Ro is quiet for a moment, not in a way that suggests discomfort with the question, but to carefully think about his answer.
"Maybe," he says at last. "I used to terrify my parents, I think, because I was so small and I kept running toward something so big."
It would have been very easy to lose sight of a child as small as he was back then. He has vivid memories of his mother's anxiety, the feeling of her arms, or his father's, as they scooped him up before he could get too far.
"Whenever I looked toward the horizon, I just felt like--" He looks up at Caleb. "Have you ever stood in a fast river? Or stream? Something with a strong current, but not quite strong enough to pull your legs out from under you. You stand there, feeling it all rush by you, and... I always felt like I wanted to go with it. Not just passively swept away, but I would've run across the waves if I could."
He looks ahead again, watching the road. "When I finally got on a ship - a real one, not just a fishing boat - I still felt it. A pull, a tide." He glances up at Caleb with a smile, but there's something sad in it. "Haven't found where it ends yet."
Caleb's first instinct, when Ro catches his eye, is to look away. But he resists that urge, brow furrowing, and holds his gaze as he listens. He's had that experience a number of times, but only felt what Ro describes when he was young. So much felt possible then, with his talent and the energy around him; a future away from Blumenthal, onto bigger things. He ran toward that horizon.
But he found the end. It wasn't good.
"I think I envy that," he admits softly, before he can stop his tongue. At his side, Nott's hand comes up and slides into his in a silent show of support. "I used to have it. A pull toward something greater. But as you can see, I am all washed up these days. Drifting." Literally and figuratively. "It is a restless feeling, what you are talking about. Like you can never find what you are seeking. But it is also a purpose, ja? A reason to keep going?"
He can understand the reason for the sadness lingering at the edges of Ro's smile; the loneliness, the frustration of searching endlessly, but never finding. But the way his life has been since escaping Vergesson--it would be good to have anything drawing him forward. But he is wary of it at the same time. Even if he does find that pull again, what if he can't trust it? Can't trust himself?
"I don't know," he admits. It's hard not to think of the number of times he's landed somewhere only to get on another ship going in the opposite direction. "Maybe if I had more direction I'd feel better about it. Most days I'm not sure if I'm running toward something or away from it."
Ro sees the way Nott catches Caleb's hand, and the way he speaks of himself makes something in Ro's chest ache a little. If he knew Caleb a little better, he'd hold his hand, too. He gives the wizard a smile, something a little brighter.
"Drifting is still moving," he says. "The current always feels weak after the wild energy of a storm. But it's still there. You'll find it again. Especially with a rudder like Nott."
He's already said too much. Recognizing Ro's encouragement for what it is, Caleb returns his smile with a weak one of his own and makes an acknowledging noise, neither agreement nor disagreement. Glancing away, he does give Nott's hand a squeeze, which she returns. "She has not steered me wrong yet."
That is one thing he didn't have before, at least. The last few months have been surprising. Her companionship has been welcome, and he's done better with her than he has on his own over the last five years. Perhaps Ro's companionship could be welcome too, at least for a little while.
"Maybe this is not the final stop on your journey," he says, daring to glance back down at the halfling, "but I hope that you find some meaning in it, anyway."
"I don't know if my final stop could be so far inland. Unless something really bad happens," he says with a wan smile of his own. "But thanks. I hope I find something, too."
Ro isn't really sure what he might be looking for, but he hopes he finds it all the same. Despite his heavy answers, the day feels a little easier after that. He tells some stories, just things to pass the time; he's quiet when it seems like Caleb would prefer it and the silence doesn't feel so awkward anymore.
The sun is sinking low when they reach a town large enough to have something like an inn - or in this case, a tavern that has a few rooms for wayward travelers. Ro goes right in and climbs on a stool at the bar to talk to the woman there. He wears an easy smile and talks to her a bit before asking if there's a room available. Thankfully, there is.
Before he pays for the room, he asks if he can play for his dinner - and that of his traveling companions. People drink more when they're enjoying themselves a bit of music can't hurt. The woman gives him a wry smile and says the dinner he can play for - the baths will cost him. Ro decides that's fair enough and pays what he owes up front, then hops down to get back to Caleb and Nott.
"Find a table," he says with a bright look. "Dinner's on the house if I play for a while. And I've got us a room and hot water for baths when we go up."
Modest as it is, a room at this tavern will be the nicest place Caleb has laid his head down in weeks, and the meal Ro intends to play for the best he's had in at least that long. When the halfling tells him the good news--that they have a place to sleep and food on the way and even baths--he can't help a relieved, grateful smile. It almost feels like Ro is doing too much for them, and the discomfort of an unbalanced transaction threatens to put him on edge, but then he remembers helping him escape a jail cell only a few days ago. That's more than worth a bed and a meal.
"I'll skip the water." Nott has her hood pulled up and her face tilted down, her little porcelain mask secured over her jagged-toothed mouth, so her voice, already lowered to remain inconspicuous, is muffled. "But the rest sounds great. Get singin'! Caleb, make sure you order something better than watered down ale to drink. Get me some whiskey."
Caleb gives a huff of gentle laughter, putting his hands on her shoulders to ensure she doesn't scamper to the bar without him. "Ja, ja, we'll get some real booze in you, don't worry." He turns the soft remnant of his smile on Ro again. "Thank you for this, friend."
They find a table positioned with a good enough view of the door and out of the way enough for Caleb's comfort, so both he and Nott can relax a bit. He orders food and drink at the bar, asking them to hold off on Ro's until he is done playing so his meal will be hot. Then, like the other weary travelers filling this room, he settles in to enjoy the music.
Even though he only knows some of the songs, it makes him miss dancing. But tapping his foot along is good enough, and the food (and the beer, which is not watered down), the comfort of a warm, dry communal space where he is mostly anonymous, and the promise of a bath and a bed puts him in a good mood. He snaps Frumpkin out to lay in his lap and smiles at Nott slipping her mask down to sip at her glass of whiskey, swaying in her chair to the music.
Several songs in, Caleb goes to the bar again, procures another stein of frothy beer, and brings it to Ro.
"Here," he says, noting how much larger the tankard looks when it passes from his hand to Ro's. "To save your voice."
The smile from Caleb feels worth a few hours' work. Ro grabs his lute and hands off his pack to Caleb as he and Nott go to find somewhere to sit. He sits on the low stage and puts out the bowl he typically uses to collect alms (when he even bothers) and tunes the lute before he jumps into the set.
He keeps it light for the most part - maybe not everyone will know all of the songs, but there's enough that are familiar that some can sing along or tap their feet to familiar beats. After a few songs, someone from the village joins him with a hand drum and the pair of them make a good go of it.
Ro is a cleric, but he sings well and he can command a crowd on a good day. His smile is easy and bright. Once or twice, he seems to pick someone to sing to - including one of the serving maids as she delivers food to Caleb and Nott.
"From Westrunn way to the Open Quay, from Emon to Ank'harel, no maid I've seen like the fair cailín that I met in the Marrow Vale." Ro winks at her and is gratified with a roll of her eyes and a smile as she passes by again. He grins and turns his attention elsewhere to get more of the crowd going.
Whatever evenings are like in the village, tonight at least the tavern is lively. Ro looks up when Caleb appears with a stein and he flashes a grateful smile when he realizes it's for him. He stops playing so that he can take it and Caleb barely has time to pull his hand away before Ro takes a drink. It's cool enough to be perfect and it soothes the dry feeling in his throat.
"Thank you," he says, heartfelt. "Haven't had to sing over a crowd in a little while." Ro sets the stein close, but not where it might get knocked over. He looks up at Caleb again. "Think I'll wrap this up in a few more. I'm getting hungry."
Ro's smile is genuine enough that it stirs an answering one from Caleb, a bit shy. He feels a little heat rise in his cheeks, but blames the beer. This is an entirely normal interaction, there's no reason to be flustered. Stay on task, Widogast.
"You have earned it," he says warmly, "singing for our supper. Come and join us soon. I will tell Miranda you are ready to eat." He nods toward the barmaid who's been serving them tonight, the same one Ro singled out during his last song. Caleb makes it a habit to learn names. It's often useful, and with his memory, a trifle.
He thinks to comment further--on Ro's singing, on how much he'd enjoyed the last song especially--but realizes he's taking up time where he could be playing, finishing his set so he can get to his dinner. His flush deepens, and he takes a step back. "The last one was, ah--I liked it a lot," he says quickly, aware of his awkwardness, but unable to help it. Rather than make it worse, he retreats.
At their table, Nott gives him a sympathetic pat on the knee as she finishes her whiskey.
Ro's smile gets a little softer and warmer when Caleb offers the shy, slightly awkward compliment. He doesn't respond other than the smile, taking his cue to get back to his set. He takes another long drink from his stein before he starts playing again, something appropriately rowdy for the drummer to shine. It's been a while since he had the chance to play with other musicians, and Ro harbors some hope that he'll run into more opportunities in Deastok.
Before the end of the song, Ro's standing on the chair he's been sitting in, just so he can be seen by more of the tavern.
The next few songs keep the energy up and the drummer joins in singing those. If he closes his eyes, Ro thinks he could be home. If he closes his eyes, it's enough to ache for it. So he opens them again to appreciate the people here and now. He closes the set with something that'll wind down the energy a bit, something that saves him a bit of singing. When he finishes, he stands on his chair again to take a bow and thank the tavern for a good time. The drummer keeps on, but Ro hops down and collects his alms bowl: there's several coppers and a few silvers, so he'll take it. He splits it, leaving half for the drummer before he goes to join Caleb and Nott.
Aware the table isn't quite made for small folks, even though he's sure he saw some halflings in the crowd, Ro kneels on the bench rather than fully sitting. His voice is just a bit scratchy when he thanks Miranda for delivering his food. He looks a bit shyly at Caleb and Nott.
"The pair of you don't have to wait for me, if you don't want. I'm sure the room's ready."
Nott gets more whiskey, but Caleb continues to nurse the same beer throughout the remainder of Ro's set. The mood in the tavern was comfortable but quiet when they arrived. Now, with the addition of music, it is lively. The chatter of other patrons is louder, and as Caleb observes, more relaxed. It's nice. A good atmosphere for watching and fading into the background. There are moments when he wants to do more than that, when he wants to dance, which he hasn't in a very long time. That won't happen, of course. But Ro is good at this, and Caleb lets himself enjoy listening, at least. Quietly, inconspicuously.
When Ro finishes up and joins them, quickly receiving a hot plate for his troubles, Caleb smiles tentatively at him across the table. Nott, who is kneeling so she can peer over the surface of the table, shrugs. "Eh, I'm good," she says mildly. "I'm still drinking."
"We do not mind keeping you company," Caleb adds, the husk of his accent more pronounced as he speaks just loudly enough to be heard. "You are the reason we were able to eat tonight at all."
"Yeah, those were fun tunes," Nott pipes up again. Well into her second glass, she is noticeably less high-strung than usual, her normally twitchy body language relaxed. Good for her. Ever since Caleb's known her, she's needed booze to be anything less than a tiny green ball of anxiety. In many ways, he can relate.
Caleb's beer has gone warm, but there is less than half left anyway. He takes a measured sip. He doesn't need an excuse to linger, but having one gives him some plausible deniability. It isn't just that he wants to remain with his new friend. Maybe he, like Nott, is still drinking. "It is also your room. Enjoy your meal. We will go up when you are ready."
Ro rolls his eyes and smiles a bit. "Our room," he insists. He didn't just get it for himself, after all, when Caleb and Nott more than earned a soft bed at his expense for springing him from the jail.
That's the most fight he puts up, though. He's glad for the company and he focuses on filling his belly before he gets distracted. He puts away a good bit of food for such a little guy, but then he just burned a considerable bit of energy. He doesn't rush, though, allowing himself to enjoy the feel of the tavern now that it's buzzing with the drummer still playing in the background. Ro takes a moment to look around, and if he lets his focus go hazy, he really could be home.
When he does finish, he sits back a bit, resting on his heels as he nurses his drink until that, too, is gone. He feels warm and comfortable for the first time in days, and he knows there are baths in the future. With an empty plate and mug, he looks at his companions.
"Shall we?" he asks as he slides off the bench. Nott waves them off, saying she has more drinking to do. Ro's glad when Caleb gets up, though.
"Do you want the bath first?" he offers on their way up the stairs.
Caleb isn't surprised that Nott wishes to remain downstairs, given access to a bar for the first time in several weeks. But he does warn her to be careful, and to come up right away if anyone starts giving her second glances. Only when she promises to do so does he feel comfortable downing the last of his beer and joining Ro in heading up to their room.
He feels Nott's absence immediately. With her around, there is a bit of a social buffer. Alone with Ro, his awkward, nervous energy can't slip under the radar as easily. He scrutinizes his own behavior, which in turn makes him more self-conscious. It's been a long time since he's concerned himself with what another person thinks of him. Normally he keeps interaction to a minimum and tries to be forgettable. With Nott, they were both obvious outcasts. There was never any reason to pretend at normalcy with her.
"Nein. You should go first," he insists, because of course Ro is polite enough to offer, but he must refuse. He is frankly pretty filthy, and Ro deserves clean water. Caleb will be glad for the chance to wash up at all. "I would like to set up my Alarm, and that takes a few minutes."
The room is nice, by Caleb's estimation. A little better than a typical roadside inn, even. Nothing fancy, of course, but it is a solid structure with four walls and a roof, it is clean, and the fire already burning in a modest hearth counteracts any draft there might be from the small window. The space is small and the furniture sparse, but sturdy. A bed large enough for an adult human (not a problem; Ro and Nott can share, and he will be fine on the floor), a woven rug, a little table with a single chair, and a truly beautiful sight: a good-sized metal tub filled with steaming water. There is even a simple privacy screen set up beside it.
Caleb closes the door behind them and allows himself a single soft sigh. A hardy meal, a beer, a private room, and a bath. It feels like luxury.
"This is very good," he says, half to himself, shrugging off his coat. The fire has already heated the room to a comfortable temperature, so he won't have to wear it tonight. Reaching into his component pouch, his fingers automatically find the spool of endless silver thread.
"I won't take too long," he promises. He wants Caleb to have a good bath, he deserves that (if anyone is asking Ro). He smiles when Caleb comments on the room, pleased with himself and with how this turned out. It is a good room, and the bath and fire make it even more so.
Ro removes a few things from his pack before stowing it beneath the bed. And maybe his gaze lingers a little longer than it needs to when he's reminded that Caleb keeps his component pouch on his thigh. Oh, he really shouldn't think of that.
While Caleb works on setting his alarm, Ro strips off his layers. He's careful to drape his clothes over the corner of the bed for now, not really wanting to leave them on the floor.
He's quite a sturdy little fellow with strong legs and arms, his body built by years on ships. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about him is the tattoo that climbs his left arm from wrist to shoulder: waves roiling across his skin, with a white moon at the apex. Ro leaves his smalls on for now, thinking he probably shouldn't just get naked. He can do that on the other side of the screen. He pulls his hair loose as he goes, happy to see the soap waiting there.
Ro reminds himself that he promised Caleb he'd be quick.
Caleb gets started with his ritual right away. And he really does try not to let his eyes (or his mind) wander to the man undressing less than ten feet from him, but the reality is that it is a very small room, and he has to run his wire around the entire perimeter, which means catching glimpses as he moves is unavoidable.
For Caleb, noticing that someone is good-looking with all their clothes on is a bit like a tap on the shoulder. Hey, look at that. Distracting sometimes, but generally something he can ignore if he tries. As Ro strips down in the periphery of his vision, the awareness of his own attraction is more like a slap in the face. Much harder to brush off, and the ache lasts longer than the initial sharp sting of impact.
Proportionally, Ro is small, of course. But his build is stout and strong, and in some places, invitingly soft. Caleb is too late to banish the thought before it occurs that his own hands would likely easily encompass many appealing parts of his halfling companion's body, should his touch be welcome. The tattoo, somehow, is the last thing he notices. But that is what gives him away, because he ends up lingering too long on taking in the artwork, which is really quite remarkable. Ro glances up, their eyes meet, and Caleb somehow freezes and spontaneously immolates at the same time.
"Sorry, I did not mean to--um, to--" He quickly stammers out a completely inadequate apology in a guilty rush, berating himself inwardly for his disgraceful behavior. Ro is only the second person in years he's spent more than a few hours with, and here he is repaying him for his kindness by furtively eyeing him up when the man is just trying to take a bath. His face is already blazing, and he swallows thickly, his mouth suddenly dry and voice coarse as sandpaper. "I did not know. About this." He touches his own left arm to indicate Ro's tattoo, and then quickly looks away. Which he really should have done immediately, but his muscles only now remember how to move.
It takes Ro a second too long to realize Caleb was looking at his tattoo, not him, and he feels a little ashamed of thinking - maybe hoping - otherwise. Heat stains his cheeks and Ro lingers a moment, absently running his fingers over familiar lines and swirls.
"I didn't have a lot of reason to strip down to bare arms," he says with a smile. "Or even roll up my sleeves. Suppose I should show it off more, it took forever to finish."
It's been cold and none of them have been inclined to undress too far on the road. Ro peers over at Caleb again before he makes himself step out of view so he can push off his smalls. The tub is human-sized, but Ro manages to get in without much issue. The hot water makes him groan and he submerges himself entirely just a breath later. He scrubs his fingers along his scalp before resurfacing, pushing his hair back as he goes.
"Gods, that set was worth this," he sighs. He reminds himself he promised Caleb he wouldn't take forever. He tries not to let his mind wander too far, even if he keeps picturing how Caleb was blushing as he looked away to finish his ritual. Ro can admit to himself he's been flirting a bit, bit he doesn't expect much to come from it.
Caleb isn't in the habit of thanking the gods, but in this instance, it seems appropriate. Ro doesn't seem offended, or even particularly put off by Caleb's incidentally crude attention, or even his tactless excuse of an apology. He carries on as if nothing out of the ordinary happened at all, which is unspeakably kind of him, really.
"It must have been quite an ordeal," he manages to say, sounding stilted to his own ear, but at least managing to carry on a facsimile of a normal conversation. Hearing the quiet patter of bare feet against the floorboards means he can assume Ro has probably gone behind the screen. "But the result is impressive."
Though the thought of tattooing makes his skin crawl, arms itching worse than usual beneath their wraps (bad associations with sharp objects and permanent body alterations), he can appreciate the artistry to a degree, at least. Ro wears his well.
With focus on his ritual casting completely broken by that embarrassing little exchange, he's forced to start the spell over, which is really the least of what he deserves. It's actually sort of mortifying, having to rewind the wire to begin again knowing that Ro will notice and be well aware it is because he lost concentration. But he can only resolve not to repeat his mistake.
Ro groans as he sinks into the tub, and Caleb's jaw clenches. Stay on task, Widogast.
"Soak a little, if you like," he encourages fretfully. Putting the end of the silver wire to the wall and getting started on Alarm again, he acknowledges that he'll have to redo the side of the room he initially began with, but there's time. "I am in no rush. The bath is not going anywhere."
"More than I thought it'd be at the time," he says with a wan smile. "First the line work was done, then a few weeks later the color."
Ro absently runs his hand over the tattoo as he cleans up. "I think this is the farthest I've ever been from an ocean," he admits.
It takes him a moment to realize Caleb has started his ritual casting over and Ro feels his face get a little warm - he really shouldn't be chattering away while he's trying to cast, he knows how annoying it can be to have to start over.
"Sorry you had to start over," he says, sounding almost shy. He wasn't trying to distract Caleb on purpose. Ro focuses on cleaning himself up, mindful of where Caleb is in the room as he works through setting the alarm again. Despite his determination to not be distracting, Ro barely thinks about it as he sings quietly to himself.
"Between the winds, between the waves. Between the sands, between the shores. From the shell comes the song of the sea, neither quiet nor calm. Searching for home again, my love."
That he's sung half the evening away doesn't seem to dampen the urge.
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"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.
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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.
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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.
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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."
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"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.
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"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.
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"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."
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"I bet those big folks didn't know what hit 'em. They always think they know what to expect from us." She glances up, pulling her flask from a deep pocket and taking a swig of whatever booze remains. "No offense, Caleb. You know better now."
"None taken," he assures, patting his little friend between her bony shoulders before looking back to Ro.
If he was found as he describes, it follows that he was set adrift from somewhere. For what reason is a mystery. Caleb's curiosity persists, but it seems as if that could venture into quite personal territory. Does he feel abandoned? It sounds like his family loved him very much, but that doesn't erase any difficulties he may have experienced.
"Do you feel this is why you are called to the sea? Because that is where you came from?" he asks, more lighthearted than his musings.
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"Maybe," he says at last. "I used to terrify my parents, I think, because I was so small and I kept running toward something so big."
It would have been very easy to lose sight of a child as small as he was back then. He has vivid memories of his mother's anxiety, the feeling of her arms, or his father's, as they scooped him up before he could get too far.
"Whenever I looked toward the horizon, I just felt like--" He looks up at Caleb. "Have you ever stood in a fast river? Or stream? Something with a strong current, but not quite strong enough to pull your legs out from under you. You stand there, feeling it all rush by you, and... I always felt like I wanted to go with it. Not just passively swept away, but I would've run across the waves if I could."
He looks ahead again, watching the road. "When I finally got on a ship - a real one, not just a fishing boat - I still felt it. A pull, a tide." He glances up at Caleb with a smile, but there's something sad in it. "Haven't found where it ends yet."
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But he found the end. It wasn't good.
"I think I envy that," he admits softly, before he can stop his tongue. At his side, Nott's hand comes up and slides into his in a silent show of support. "I used to have it. A pull toward something greater. But as you can see, I am all washed up these days. Drifting." Literally and figuratively. "It is a restless feeling, what you are talking about. Like you can never find what you are seeking. But it is also a purpose, ja? A reason to keep going?"
He can understand the reason for the sadness lingering at the edges of Ro's smile; the loneliness, the frustration of searching endlessly, but never finding. But the way his life has been since escaping Vergesson--it would be good to have anything drawing him forward. But he is wary of it at the same time. Even if he does find that pull again, what if he can't trust it? Can't trust himself?
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Ro sees the way Nott catches Caleb's hand, and the way he speaks of himself makes something in Ro's chest ache a little. If he knew Caleb a little better, he'd hold his hand, too. He gives the wizard a smile, something a little brighter.
"Drifting is still moving," he says. "The current always feels weak after the wild energy of a storm. But it's still there. You'll find it again. Especially with a rudder like Nott."
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That is one thing he didn't have before, at least. The last few months have been surprising. Her companionship has been welcome, and he's done better with her than he has on his own over the last five years. Perhaps Ro's companionship could be welcome too, at least for a little while.
"Maybe this is not the final stop on your journey," he says, daring to glance back down at the halfling, "but I hope that you find some meaning in it, anyway."
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Ro isn't really sure what he might be looking for, but he hopes he finds it all the same. Despite his heavy answers, the day feels a little easier after that. He tells some stories, just things to pass the time; he's quiet when it seems like Caleb would prefer it and the silence doesn't feel so awkward anymore.
The sun is sinking low when they reach a town large enough to have something like an inn - or in this case, a tavern that has a few rooms for wayward travelers. Ro goes right in and climbs on a stool at the bar to talk to the woman there. He wears an easy smile and talks to her a bit before asking if there's a room available. Thankfully, there is.
Before he pays for the room, he asks if he can play for his dinner - and that of his traveling companions. People drink more when they're enjoying themselves a bit of music can't hurt. The woman gives him a wry smile and says the dinner he can play for - the baths will cost him. Ro decides that's fair enough and pays what he owes up front, then hops down to get back to Caleb and Nott.
"Find a table," he says with a bright look. "Dinner's on the house if I play for a while. And I've got us a room and hot water for baths when we go up."
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"I'll skip the water." Nott has her hood pulled up and her face tilted down, her little porcelain mask secured over her jagged-toothed mouth, so her voice, already lowered to remain inconspicuous, is muffled. "But the rest sounds great. Get singin'! Caleb, make sure you order something better than watered down ale to drink. Get me some whiskey."
Caleb gives a huff of gentle laughter, putting his hands on her shoulders to ensure she doesn't scamper to the bar without him. "Ja, ja, we'll get some real booze in you, don't worry." He turns the soft remnant of his smile on Ro again. "Thank you for this, friend."
They find a table positioned with a good enough view of the door and out of the way enough for Caleb's comfort, so both he and Nott can relax a bit. He orders food and drink at the bar, asking them to hold off on Ro's until he is done playing so his meal will be hot. Then, like the other weary travelers filling this room, he settles in to enjoy the music.
Even though he only knows some of the songs, it makes him miss dancing. But tapping his foot along is good enough, and the food (and the beer, which is not watered down), the comfort of a warm, dry communal space where he is mostly anonymous, and the promise of a bath and a bed puts him in a good mood. He snaps Frumpkin out to lay in his lap and smiles at Nott slipping her mask down to sip at her glass of whiskey, swaying in her chair to the music.
Several songs in, Caleb goes to the bar again, procures another stein of frothy beer, and brings it to Ro.
"Here," he says, noting how much larger the tankard looks when it passes from his hand to Ro's. "To save your voice."
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He keeps it light for the most part - maybe not everyone will know all of the songs, but there's enough that are familiar that some can sing along or tap their feet to familiar beats. After a few songs, someone from the village joins him with a hand drum and the pair of them make a good go of it.
Ro is a cleric, but he sings well and he can command a crowd on a good day. His smile is easy and bright. Once or twice, he seems to pick someone to sing to - including one of the serving maids as she delivers food to Caleb and Nott.
"From Westrunn way to the Open Quay, from Emon to Ank'harel, no maid I've seen like the fair cailín that I met in the Marrow Vale." Ro winks at her and is gratified with a roll of her eyes and a smile as she passes by again. He grins and turns his attention elsewhere to get more of the crowd going.
Whatever evenings are like in the village, tonight at least the tavern is lively. Ro looks up when Caleb appears with a stein and he flashes a grateful smile when he realizes it's for him. He stops playing so that he can take it and Caleb barely has time to pull his hand away before Ro takes a drink. It's cool enough to be perfect and it soothes the dry feeling in his throat.
"Thank you," he says, heartfelt. "Haven't had to sing over a crowd in a little while." Ro sets the stein close, but not where it might get knocked over. He looks up at Caleb again. "Think I'll wrap this up in a few more. I'm getting hungry."
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"You have earned it," he says warmly, "singing for our supper. Come and join us soon. I will tell Miranda you are ready to eat." He nods toward the barmaid who's been serving them tonight, the same one Ro singled out during his last song. Caleb makes it a habit to learn names. It's often useful, and with his memory, a trifle.
He thinks to comment further--on Ro's singing, on how much he'd enjoyed the last song especially--but realizes he's taking up time where he could be playing, finishing his set so he can get to his dinner. His flush deepens, and he takes a step back. "The last one was, ah--I liked it a lot," he says quickly, aware of his awkwardness, but unable to help it. Rather than make it worse, he retreats.
At their table, Nott gives him a sympathetic pat on the knee as she finishes her whiskey.
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Before the end of the song, Ro's standing on the chair he's been sitting in, just so he can be seen by more of the tavern.
The next few songs keep the energy up and the drummer joins in singing those. If he closes his eyes, Ro thinks he could be home. If he closes his eyes, it's enough to ache for it. So he opens them again to appreciate the people here and now. He closes the set with something that'll wind down the energy a bit, something that saves him a bit of singing. When he finishes, he stands on his chair again to take a bow and thank the tavern for a good time. The drummer keeps on, but Ro hops down and collects his alms bowl: there's several coppers and a few silvers, so he'll take it. He splits it, leaving half for the drummer before he goes to join Caleb and Nott.
Aware the table isn't quite made for small folks, even though he's sure he saw some halflings in the crowd, Ro kneels on the bench rather than fully sitting. His voice is just a bit scratchy when he thanks Miranda for delivering his food. He looks a bit shyly at Caleb and Nott.
"The pair of you don't have to wait for me, if you don't want. I'm sure the room's ready."
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When Ro finishes up and joins them, quickly receiving a hot plate for his troubles, Caleb smiles tentatively at him across the table. Nott, who is kneeling so she can peer over the surface of the table, shrugs. "Eh, I'm good," she says mildly. "I'm still drinking."
"We do not mind keeping you company," Caleb adds, the husk of his accent more pronounced as he speaks just loudly enough to be heard. "You are the reason we were able to eat tonight at all."
"Yeah, those were fun tunes," Nott pipes up again. Well into her second glass, she is noticeably less high-strung than usual, her normally twitchy body language relaxed. Good for her. Ever since Caleb's known her, she's needed booze to be anything less than a tiny green ball of anxiety. In many ways, he can relate.
Caleb's beer has gone warm, but there is less than half left anyway. He takes a measured sip. He doesn't need an excuse to linger, but having one gives him some plausible deniability. It isn't just that he wants to remain with his new friend. Maybe he, like Nott, is still drinking. "It is also your room. Enjoy your meal. We will go up when you are ready."
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That's the most fight he puts up, though. He's glad for the company and he focuses on filling his belly before he gets distracted. He puts away a good bit of food for such a little guy, but then he just burned a considerable bit of energy. He doesn't rush, though, allowing himself to enjoy the feel of the tavern now that it's buzzing with the drummer still playing in the background. Ro takes a moment to look around, and if he lets his focus go hazy, he really could be home.
When he does finish, he sits back a bit, resting on his heels as he nurses his drink until that, too, is gone. He feels warm and comfortable for the first time in days, and he knows there are baths in the future. With an empty plate and mug, he looks at his companions.
"Shall we?" he asks as he slides off the bench. Nott waves them off, saying she has more drinking to do. Ro's glad when Caleb gets up, though.
"Do you want the bath first?" he offers on their way up the stairs.
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He feels Nott's absence immediately. With her around, there is a bit of a social buffer. Alone with Ro, his awkward, nervous energy can't slip under the radar as easily. He scrutinizes his own behavior, which in turn makes him more self-conscious. It's been a long time since he's concerned himself with what another person thinks of him. Normally he keeps interaction to a minimum and tries to be forgettable. With Nott, they were both obvious outcasts. There was never any reason to pretend at normalcy with her.
"Nein. You should go first," he insists, because of course Ro is polite enough to offer, but he must refuse. He is frankly pretty filthy, and Ro deserves clean water. Caleb will be glad for the chance to wash up at all. "I would like to set up my Alarm, and that takes a few minutes."
The room is nice, by Caleb's estimation. A little better than a typical roadside inn, even. Nothing fancy, of course, but it is a solid structure with four walls and a roof, it is clean, and the fire already burning in a modest hearth counteracts any draft there might be from the small window. The space is small and the furniture sparse, but sturdy. A bed large enough for an adult human (not a problem; Ro and Nott can share, and he will be fine on the floor), a woven rug, a little table with a single chair, and a truly beautiful sight: a good-sized metal tub filled with steaming water. There is even a simple privacy screen set up beside it.
Caleb closes the door behind them and allows himself a single soft sigh. A hardy meal, a beer, a private room, and a bath. It feels like luxury.
"This is very good," he says, half to himself, shrugging off his coat. The fire has already heated the room to a comfortable temperature, so he won't have to wear it tonight. Reaching into his component pouch, his fingers automatically find the spool of endless silver thread.
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Ro removes a few things from his pack before stowing it beneath the bed. And maybe his gaze lingers a little longer than it needs to when he's reminded that Caleb keeps his component pouch on his thigh. Oh, he really shouldn't think of that.
While Caleb works on setting his alarm, Ro strips off his layers. He's careful to drape his clothes over the corner of the bed for now, not really wanting to leave them on the floor.
He's quite a sturdy little fellow with strong legs and arms, his body built by years on ships. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about him is the tattoo that climbs his left arm from wrist to shoulder: waves roiling across his skin, with a white moon at the apex. Ro leaves his smalls on for now, thinking he probably shouldn't just get naked. He can do that on the other side of the screen. He pulls his hair loose as he goes, happy to see the soap waiting there.
Ro reminds himself that he promised Caleb he'd be quick.
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For Caleb, noticing that someone is good-looking with all their clothes on is a bit like a tap on the shoulder. Hey, look at that. Distracting sometimes, but generally something he can ignore if he tries. As Ro strips down in the periphery of his vision, the awareness of his own attraction is more like a slap in the face. Much harder to brush off, and the ache lasts longer than the initial sharp sting of impact.
Proportionally, Ro is small, of course. But his build is stout and strong, and in some places, invitingly soft. Caleb is too late to banish the thought before it occurs that his own hands would likely easily encompass many appealing parts of his halfling companion's body, should his touch be welcome. The tattoo, somehow, is the last thing he notices. But that is what gives him away, because he ends up lingering too long on taking in the artwork, which is really quite remarkable. Ro glances up, their eyes meet, and Caleb somehow freezes and spontaneously immolates at the same time.
"Sorry, I did not mean to--um, to--" He quickly stammers out a completely inadequate apology in a guilty rush, berating himself inwardly for his disgraceful behavior. Ro is only the second person in years he's spent more than a few hours with, and here he is repaying him for his kindness by furtively eyeing him up when the man is just trying to take a bath. His face is already blazing, and he swallows thickly, his mouth suddenly dry and voice coarse as sandpaper. "I did not know. About this." He touches his own left arm to indicate Ro's tattoo, and then quickly looks away. Which he really should have done immediately, but his muscles only now remember how to move.
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"I didn't have a lot of reason to strip down to bare arms," he says with a smile. "Or even roll up my sleeves. Suppose I should show it off more, it took forever to finish."
It's been cold and none of them have been inclined to undress too far on the road. Ro peers over at Caleb again before he makes himself step out of view so he can push off his smalls. The tub is human-sized, but Ro manages to get in without much issue. The hot water makes him groan and he submerges himself entirely just a breath later. He scrubs his fingers along his scalp before resurfacing, pushing his hair back as he goes.
"Gods, that set was worth this," he sighs. He reminds himself he promised Caleb he wouldn't take forever. He tries not to let his mind wander too far, even if he keeps picturing how Caleb was blushing as he looked away to finish his ritual. Ro can admit to himself he's been flirting a bit, bit he doesn't expect much to come from it.
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"It must have been quite an ordeal," he manages to say, sounding stilted to his own ear, but at least managing to carry on a facsimile of a normal conversation. Hearing the quiet patter of bare feet against the floorboards means he can assume Ro has probably gone behind the screen. "But the result is impressive."
Though the thought of tattooing makes his skin crawl, arms itching worse than usual beneath their wraps (bad associations with sharp objects and permanent body alterations), he can appreciate the artistry to a degree, at least. Ro wears his well.
With focus on his ritual casting completely broken by that embarrassing little exchange, he's forced to start the spell over, which is really the least of what he deserves. It's actually sort of mortifying, having to rewind the wire to begin again knowing that Ro will notice and be well aware it is because he lost concentration. But he can only resolve not to repeat his mistake.
Ro groans as he sinks into the tub, and Caleb's jaw clenches. Stay on task, Widogast.
"Soak a little, if you like," he encourages fretfully. Putting the end of the silver wire to the wall and getting started on Alarm again, he acknowledges that he'll have to redo the side of the room he initially began with, but there's time. "I am in no rush. The bath is not going anywhere."
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Ro absently runs his hand over the tattoo as he cleans up. "I think this is the farthest I've ever been from an ocean," he admits.
It takes him a moment to realize Caleb has started his ritual casting over and Ro feels his face get a little warm - he really shouldn't be chattering away while he's trying to cast, he knows how annoying it can be to have to start over.
"Sorry you had to start over," he says, sounding almost shy. He wasn't trying to distract Caleb on purpose. Ro focuses on cleaning himself up, mindful of where Caleb is in the room as he works through setting the alarm again. Despite his determination to not be distracting, Ro barely thinks about it as he sings quietly to himself.
"Between the winds, between the waves. Between the sands, between the shores. From the shell comes the song of the sea, neither quiet nor calm. Searching for home again, my love."
That he's sung half the evening away doesn't seem to dampen the urge.
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