moontied | for blumenthal

Caleb's eyes soften a little, and that near smile returns. "I promise that it was unintentional."

It isn't often that he gets the opportunity to talk to anyone but Nott for quite so long these days, let alone in depth. That is mostly intentional, but he is finding over the course of this conversation that he almost misses it. Perhaps he's just gotten lucky this time.

"You could be that kind of cleric, if you wanted. You speak with conviction." His voice lowers conspiratorially as he adds, "Just not here."

"Maybe. But I'm too pretty and too small to keep getting thrown into jail cells," he quips in answer to Caleb's rough whisper. "And I think being that kind of cleric requires being willing to take the message where it's not often heard."

So, to a place like the Empire. Ro grins and looks down, and maybe there's just a bit of charmed warmth in his cheeks. Better than being cold, anyway. He shuffles the scarf around him, making sure it's entirely unfolded so he's wrapped in the full width of it.

"Thanks for talking to me. This could've been a really cold night otherwise."

And he doesn't just mean the temperature.

Well, Caleb isn't going to deny that Ro is both pretty and small. In fact, he is wisely going to say nothing about that at all, beyond a general hum of acknowledgement. He might notice these things, just as he notices that Ro has a nice smile and a flush looks fetching on him, but it certainly isn't his place to think on it any more than that.

"Ja, for both of us," he agrees, though he should be the one thanking Ro. He is the one who'd made an effort to talk with the shifty, dirty drifter.

He decides two things, then. One is that Ro is probably not an agent of the Assembly sent to hunt him down. The second is that he is going to tell him about Nott. But first--

"Is the scarf enough for you?" he asks softly, brow knitting. "My coat is much warmer, and I have gotten through worse nights without it."

"Oh, I can't take your coat." Ro frowns and looks up at the man beside him. He doesn't even doubt that Caleb might be okay without it, but he'd rather not test that. The scarf covers him enough and it's trapping body heat nicely where it covers. It might not be ideal, but it'll do in a pinch.

Ro glances at Caleb again, debating the words on the tip of his tongue. Caleb hadn't wanted to be touched earlier, he hasn't forgotten that. But--well. It's worth suggesting.

"We could share it," he suggests. "If I sit closer. If you'd be okay with that."

Caleb has considered this possibility as well, though he didn't want to be the one to voice it, even if it was him who reacted badly to the idea of being touched earlier. But it isn't touching that makes him nervous; it's people, strangers, unknown variables, the risks involved in getting close, physically or otherwise. Touch itself is something he loves, something he misses, something he craves with such a frightening intensity that it can't be a good idea. Something he doesn't deserve.

But he knows the cold, and how easily it can creep into a body. How insidious it can be, how deceptive; how going numb can feel like relief, when really it means that if you are alone, it is already too late. He knows intimately that touch can be the difference between life and death. He has no idea how much colder it will get tonight, only that it will, and Ro is so small. It will be twice as bad for him, and they will be in this drafty stone box for hours yet.

This goes beyond his discomfort. If Ro doesn't mind sharing space, sharing heat, that is what they should do. Caleb nervously licks his chapped lips again, split and all, and nods, gaze trained on the floor between them. "Ja," he agrees hoarsely. "That would be okay."

For this to be useful to either of them, Ro will have to sit very close. It won't be only Caleb's coat keeping them warm, but each other. But Caleb offers no specific instruction, merely sits up cross-legged and grips his lapel to swing his coat open, making space for Ro to tuck himself close.

Ro nods and murmurs a quiet thanks when Caleb consents to sitting close. He goes a bit beyond that, holding his coat open in a clear invitation. Given how concerned the other man was about being touched earlier, he has to imagine this takes something to offer. It's a kindness, and after he takes a breath, Ro closes the distance between them. He tucks against Caleb's side, very aware that the man and the coat are both warm.

It takes a moment for the tension to ease from his shoulders, but soon enough he leans against Caleb's side. There's no point in being worried.

Up close, the man smells faintly of sweat and smoke and earth. It isn't overpowering or unpleasant, and Ro catches the scent of soap beneath it all. He draws his legs up, making himself a ball beneath Caleb's coat. He could probably hide there without much trouble.

Warmth seeps into him and Ro realizes how chilly he'd been feeling, even with the scarf. Sharing body heat makes all the difference. He peers up from Caleb's side, his eyes large and dark. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"I appreciate this."

Ro fits nicely against his side. He can close his coat around both of them, and when he leans against him, Caleb takes it as implicit permission to lower the arm he'd lifted to make room for him, draping it loosely around him. He doesn't relax, exactly, but he's actually less tense this way than he would be if Ro had tried not to touch him.

The other man feels cool against him rather than warm, which makes him glad he'd spoken up now, before it could get worse. He can warm him up now, and they will both be happier for the rest of the night. Ro's upturned face peeks out from the collar of his coat, and Caleb is again forced to acknowledge that he likes his eyes. And his smile.

Caleb swallows audibly. "It is..." He is about to say nothing, but that lie would be far too obvious at this point. He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, and doesn't quite smile, but his grimace is at least a little softer. "Well, we have only just met, but I would not like to see you shivering all night. The cold this far north is not kind if you are not dressed for it."

And often even if you are.

"You are chilly already. May I see your hands?" He offers his own hands out open and flat, presumably for Ro to place his in.

There is a weight in Caleb that Ro can't quite measure, but he can see it there in the way the other man looks at him, can hear it in the way he talks. Whatever it is, Ro is grateful Caleb has shifted its burden enough to allow this.

"I grew up almost this far north," he admits with a wry smile. The coastline north of Emon isn't on the same latitude, and is farther south than they are now. But not by enough to say Ro's never experienced a deep winter. His mother would have a look for him if she knew.

After all of this, he doesn't hesitate to give Caleb his hands. His fingertips are cold and he'd been keeping them under the scarf as much as he could. Ro laughs, though there's little real humor in it.

"I have gloves in my pack, too. I really was prepared for the weather here." But no one saw fit to give him any of his cold weather gear before tossing him in here. He casts a glance toward the open room outside the cell where he knows his things are sitting, useless.

Ro's hands are very small. This is not a surprise; he is a halfling. Nor is it particularly novel to Caleb after spending several months with Nott. It is simply something he takes notice of, seeing how big his own hands look in comparison when he takes Ro's between them to begin rubbing some warmth back into them. They are calloused, too, in a different way than his own. He wonders what work these small hands have done.

It also takes a great deal of trust, Caleb thinks, for a caster to offer up his hands so readily, even if somatics for clerics tend not to be so nuanced or precise as those for wizards.

He glances out past the bars, following the other man's gaze. If only he knew more spells--Mage Hand would be useful--he could get Ro his things. His hands nearly twitch away from Ro's to reach for his spellbook, but it is currently half sandwiched between their bodies, and he knows very well that it contains nothing to help them here. He is glad Ro hasn't mentioned it, and even more glad he hadn't sat on his other side.

"Almost this far north...in Tal'Dorei?" he guesses. And then, quieter, "We will get your things back."

Ro relaxes more against Caleb as the other man gently rubs warmth back into his fingertips. His mother and father in equal measures have done the same in the past, often while gently chiding a very small child for doing something stupid or reckless. He has to trust that Caleb won't try to hurt him now that they're close. Ro wants to believe this is just kindness from a stranger in a similar situation.

He can feel the shape of a book pressing against him, and he is both impressed that the guards didn't strip it off Caleb before throwing him in here and curious if it means what he thinks it does.

His smile flickers back to life and he tries to sit up more to look past Caleb and his coat to see the bars.

"Yes we will, one way or another," he says. "And yes, we lived off the coast, north of Emon on the far western side of the continent. Cold winters and cold waters."

"Emon," Caleb murmurs, and then nods decisively, as though confirming something. In his head, he is. On his mental map of Exandria, this region of Wynandir does indeed correspond longitudinally more or less with Tal'Dorei's great city and the surrounding area. "That is a long way to travel on your own."

As he says it, he realizes he doesn't actually know for sure if Ro is by himself. He hasn't mentioned anyone else, but that means little; after all, Caleb hasn't either. Not yet, anyway.

He can feel the dry friction of his hands beginning to restore a little warmth to Ro's cold fingertips, so as Ro has not asked for him to stop, he briskly continues. He does this for Nott as well, but Ro's hands feel different in his than hers do, despite being roughly the same size. Nott's fingers are longer and thinner, tipped with goblinoid claws, and she has tough leathery-feeling palms. Ro's hands are more like his own, but proportionally smaller.

"I've never been to Wildemount before," he says as Caleb works. The attention is actually rather soothing and he finds comfort in it, so he is reluctant to ask the other man to stop, even when warmth seeps back into his fingertips.

"I found a ship bound for Nicodranas and signed on. Some of the crew were bound some of the cargo we brought over, so I went with them. Thought I could at least see it to where it was going, and see more of the continent while I was at it. We split when they headed back south. They had places to be, I didn't."

So he'd decided to stay for a little while and see what he could see. It hasn't been too difficult to find charity here and there, especially when he's able to happen upon anyone who recognizes his holy symbols. Barring that, he's worked to make his way.

"Ah, you are a sailor." Despite himself, Caleb is interested. He doesn't think he's ever met someone from quite so far away. "I understand if this experience has left you with a...negative impression of the Empire, but there are many places in this country with kind people that are worth seeing."

Ro's fingers are nearly as warm as his now. He hasn't brought it up yet, but it would be strange to continue if it serves no purpose, wouldn't it? He lets it go on for another twelve seconds entirely unnecessarily before he releases Ro's hands with a light parting squeeze.

"There. Just, ah...tell me if you get cold again. I will be here all night." His mouth slants up at one corner in an awkward little half-smile.

"Oh, I've no doubt. I've met good people, more than I've met bad ones or--well. Ones willing to arrest a cleric for helping others." He supposes it isn't bad to follow the law, though when the law itself seems wrong it might take a better person to ignore it than to follow it.

But he isn't from here. Ro sighs softly when Caleb lets his hands go with a gentle squeeze. He settles against the other man and keeps his hands close to his body, curled in his lap. Caleb's promise that he'll be here all night earns an exhaled laugh.

"I will, thank you. Is the part where I ask if you come here often? Oh, or what's a fellow like you doing in a place like this?" He grins up at Caleb, maybe a bit flirtatious. Mostly he just wants to make sure both of them can keep smiling in the face of this stupidity.

It has been a while, but Caleb still recognizes flirting when he hears it. What's difficult to understand is that it's directed at him. A joke, probably. Just Ro trying to lighten the mood, as he had. He can appreciate that.

Still, he feels his face take on a little color, especially noticeable when he is otherwise so cold. He gives a soft huff, which is near enough to a laugh, and glances away rather than look directly at Ro's smile.

"Too often, actually," he says. He tucks his hands back beneath his coat. "Well, this is only the second time, but I am trying not to make a habit of it."

"Probably for the best," he admits solemnly. "It's definitely one of the more expensive habits I've ever had and I've only just started."

He's trying to keep a smile at bay, but it hides in his voice. Ro shifts a bit, just trying to be comfortable without being a complete lump against Caleb's side. He doesn't want to make him uncomfortable, either.

The smile creeps across his face eventually. Ro adjusts Caleb's scarf around him, wrapping more of it around his neck now that the rest of him is safer beneath the other man's coat.

"Don't feel like you have to answer, but... is that a spellbook jammed into my side or are you just happy to see me?"

It's a stupid innuendo that doesn't even work given that he's not on top of Caleb and he knows it but he's going for it anyway.

Edited 2022-11-10 05:35 (UTC)

When eventually Caleb does look down again, he finds Ro smiling. He's noticed this already, but his smile really makes his face light up. And while he might be sitting a little stiffly still, he doesn't move away when the halfling leans into him.

The nonsensical innuendo startles Caleb into a wide-eyed blink before he gives another little almost-chuckle under his breath. "Or maybe I just like books," he suggests with a raised brow.

Usually, he tries to avoid sharing this information. Wizards are not so common, and many of his and Nott's cons only work if he keeps his arcane abilities hidden. But if his goblin friend is going to break the two of them out of here tonight, there is probably no avoiding Ro witnessing him doing at least a little bit of magic.

"It is. A, um, a spellbook. My spellbook. I have more knowledge of theory than practical skill at this point," he relents after a moment, again glancing away. Not out of embarassment, but more because he finds it difficult to look directly at Ro for so long while he is looking back. "I try not to draw attention to it. Sorry, I can move it if it is too uncomfortable."

"No, it's fine. I was just curious. And both surprised and impressed you hid it well enough they didn't take it."

Or maybe it had just been much easier to take things from Ro, who is more than two feet shorter than Caleb (he's guessing). Ro looks down, absently running his fingers along the embroidered hem of his shirt. It's one of his nicer ones, go figure. There's another question on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't really want to invade Caleb's privacy. The man is already sharing personal space he clearly wasn't entirely comfortable giving up in the first place.

"I've got a little book in my pack," he says with a faint smile. "I know a few ritual spells I keep in there. Just in case."

Edited 2022-11-10 06:16 (UTC)

Caleb shakes his head. It really isn't so renarkable. "Most people do not usually think to search for something so valuable on a man who looks like I do." Just his disguise (nearly indistinguishable from his actual identity--so can it really be called a disguise still?) working as intended.

His expression softens as Ro mentions keeping his own little book. "That is always useful," he murmurs. "Do you use divine magic to access them? Or are they recorded with the arcane formulas, the way I would?"

Admittedly, he's always been curious about how and where these things intersect for casters using other methods. And what else is there to talk about? They have hours to wile away yet.

"Mostly divine, but I've been working on learning arcane formulas," he admits. Despite the warmth of the body next to him, a shiver makes Ro tremble briefly. "The use of components, somatics, speaking isn't all that different."

Just the source of the magic itself, he supposes. Ro wonders about that, though he's never wondered particularly hard or for extended periods of time. He's more interested in the doing.

If all of his things weren't in his bloody pack all the way over there, he thinks he could be a bit more useful in whatever escape attempt Caleb has in mind. He's been hinting at it... or at least, Ro thinks he has.

Caleb gives a thoughtful hum, but his musing is quickly set aside when he feels a distinct shiver wrack the small body curled against him. He frowns, quickly concerned again. Shivering isn't a good sign. It means Ro's body is already cold, whether he's taken notice or not.

While he has nothing more to give him to cover himself, he knows very well how best to warm up and stay warm with limited resources. Some nights, it was the only reason they made it to morning.

"You can move closer," he offers quietly. "You will only get colder if you do not. As will I, for that matter." His side feels nice, but the rest of him is distinctly chilled. "The best way would be to sit in my lap." Ah yes, he's definitely blushing again. That will keep him warm. "Not, ah--like that, of course, but. I have had to get through nights like this many times, and nothing works as well as getting close to someone else."

"Should've saved that spell book joke," he says with a weak laugh. He's grateful for the dim light, hoping it hides the warmth in his face.

He's careful as he leaves Caleb's side in favor of sitting in his lap. Clamoring on top of Caleb feels like an invasion, but Ro tries to keep firmly in mind that he's been invited - encouraged - to do exactly that. And he knows that snuggling up to Caleb's chest and stomach would help them both. Ro is small, he'll keep Caleb's core warm while gaining similar benefits. This isn't the first time he's curled up with someone against a sharp chill.

Caleb says he's had to get through a lot of nights like this, and it takes everything Ro has in him not to ask. He's aware that Caleb might be able to wrap his coat around both of them like this rather than having to keep it open for the extra shape against his side. Ro curls close and rests his head against Caleb's chest. Trying to keep space between them would kind of defeat the purpose.

Caleb remains still as Ro accepts the invitation to climb into his lap. He'd offered, but he still isn't entirely prepared for how it feels. Ro is warm and solid, though small and light, and the way they fit together is unmistakably intimate. Only when he is settled does Caleb reach for the tattered edges of his coat and pull them around them both, covering the other man's smaller body and his own.

At least he feels warmer almost immediately. Being able to close his coat fully is a big help, as is Ro's warmth against his core. He curls his arms around the halfling without hesitation, holding him close, because he knows what is needed. That doesn't make him comfortable, but he can tolerate it. He learned years ago that embarassment and propriety stop mattering when the alternative is freezing.

"Better, ja?" he murmurs, low and soft. "You will be warmer soon. We both will."

Ro breathes a quiet sigh as the coat closes around them both. Caleb is warm and living beneath him, and it's difficult to resist relaxing entirely against the other man. He feels Caleb's arms around him, the gentle weight resting against his body and holding him in place.

"Yes," he answers, just as soft. Ro's shivering stops shortly after Caleb's arms wrap around him, his body still save for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Warmth seeps through him and it makes him feel tired - perhaps that's just the day catching up with him. Ro gives in, closing his eyes.

"Thank you, Caleb. This would have been a very difficult night without you."

Ro doesn't think he would die in the chill of the cell, but he would be in a bad state come morning without the warmth of his cellmate.

Rather than look down at the halfling in his lap or stare at the featureless stone wall across from him, Caleb decides to close his eyes as well. He tells his body when to breathe in and out, concentrating on that rather than the level of contact he is currently tolerating--and on some level, beneath the immediate discomfort, enjoying. He misses the days where he could feel close to another person like this without second-guessing it. Just as much, he feels guilty for feeling that way.

At least Ro has stopped shivering. He is doing that right, if nothing else. His chin dips down toward his chest, and he could touch his nose to Ro's dark hair. He doesn't, but he still smells plain soap, something distinctly herbal, and the familiar scent of hay, the last of which carries a sense of comfort he hadn't expected. His arms tighten just a bit, though it would be impossible to draw the other man against him any further. Ro is already relaxed where he is snuggled into his chest.

"In a way, that makes me glad to have been taken in," he murmurs. It hardly makes up for the rest of his miserable existence, but this once he has done some good. "I think I can improve it further still," he adds. Though he has already decided to share this, he must still be careful. Testing the waters, he asks, "What if I told you that we could both be out of this cell and well away from here before morning?"

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