*Season 2 Spoilers Ahead
(I don't own The Dragon Prince)
An artist had to have an eye for details.
Well, not all artists, technically. The medium was varied enough where some forms relied more on coordination and knowledge than paying attention to the little things. Callum's typical drawings tended to demand a closer inspection, though, and as such, he'd trained himself to spot the little things. Subtle shapes, forms, those hidden proportions that tied everything together when putting together a piece. Getting those details right was an art form in its own, and as such, tended to require time and effort to really perfect. Patience in this artistic examination was really what took the most effort.
And yet, he hadn't a shred of patience when he'd drawn Rayla.
Callum sat in the cave with his legs crossed pensively, tense from some kind of stress he couldn't place. Though the cave was dark, the extreme sunlight streaming in from the cave's mouth had allowed him enough of an ambient dimness to make out his sketchbook. Those drawings within it stared back at his grimace. One of his fingers tapped against the corner of paper in a stressed rhythm. A similar pattern of foot-falls in front of him matched almost too well, and he tore his eyes from Rayla to watch, well, Rayla.
"What's he still doing here?" she said aloud, an obvious aggravation accompanying her accent. Callum wasn't certain if he was supposed to answer or not. Either way, he didn't get the opportunity to. "All the canyons of Xadia, and Sol Regem 'imself had to sit right in front of the flippin' Moonstone Pass?"
She groaned again, continuing her pacing back and forth. Azymondias (or, as everyone else was much more eager to pronounce the dragon's name, Zym) watched alongside Callum, both sets of eyes tracking her impatient movements. Having that aforementioned eye for details, Callum noted a subtle sway in her steps that she couldn't have been doing on purpose. One of those traits about people that he'd never notice until really scrutinizing his drawing over the course of hours. And yet, with Rayla, he'd seen it within the span of seconds.
"Well, it kinda makes sense," he offered a rebuttal to his friend. She paused her walking for a second, raising an eyebrow. Zym mirrored her in that regard, tilting his head for added effect. Somehow, that made Callum feel less put on the spot than if it was just Rayla's questioning gaze. The mage-in-training raised a defensive palm upwards.
"War between humans and Xadia, one safe path to bridge them…" He waved his hand in a circle. "I mean, is there anything else worth guarding around here?"
Rayla shot him a look. It wouldn't have been so nasty if she wasn't the one giving it. Her expression deflated over another few seconds, the elf girl rolling her eyes as if to concede.
"...nay," she breathed out. Her posture dropped a little with the rush of air. For a brief second, she risked a peek outside of the cave, stepping tentatively towards the sunlight. Callum felt himself sit-up straighter, some reflex wanting to pull her back. He'd been trying to suppress that for the past hour or so with little success. Not for lack of trying, though.
"Maybe we should just be glad he didn't see us," Callum said instead. After Zym's (and to some degree, his own) recent triumph crossing the Moonstone Pass, optimism came naturally to him. It should've, at least. Being so bothered with his own artistic aptitude in drawing Rayla put a damper on the positivity. Zym seemed to hold onto their earlier accomplishment much more easily. Rayla, despite arguably having a more personal hand in their last sprint to Xadia, was too wary of Sol Regem to simply sit down and wait him out.
A familiar sigh met Callum's ears, and Rayla tramped back into their makeshift hideout with about as much grace as before. Though, if Callum was being honest, she'd have to try pretty hard to completely hide the grace her elven features had given her.
"Still there," she huffed. Callum didn't expect otherwise, given it'd been maybe a couple gracious minutes since she last checked. He shrugged at his companion, looking back down to the sketchbook in his hands. Zym let out a tired whimper that equated to his version of a groan. Rayla gave him a cynical laugh, looking towards the Dragon Prince of Xadia and placing her four-fingered hands on her hips.
"I know, right?" she responded to Zym. He only whimper-groaned again. Callum found himself staring back at Rayla— one of the sketchbook Raylas, not real-life Rayla— and felt a pang of confusion. That pang was soon followed by a cascade, and he bent down lower to the pages of drawings. Each curve of graphite, each scratch and mark he etched into the paper— how did he do that? Everything about the drawings was near-perfect. Barely any eraser marks outlined the Raylas. The assassin's stance, her armor, her features, and even her horns were all… her. They were the best representation anyone could put to paper. It was as if Callum physically put her in his sketchbook. And all of it was done without a hint of hesitation in maybe less than an hour, from memory.
How the heck did he do that?
"Uh, Callum?" her voice broke into the artist's thoughts. As if he was pinched, Callum jolted upright; subsequently, the back of his head met a solid wall of stone behind him like an over-enthusiastic moleworm. He recoiled again from the impact, groaning as he brought a hand up to rub the forming bruise. Despite her earlier grumblings, Rayla seemed to laugh.
"Niice one," she drew out. Callum groaned again, scooting himself a tad farther away from the stone. He wouldn't be surprised if there was now a head-shaped imprint on the rock. Regardless, he glanced back up at Rayla, seeing a couple too many versions of her at first. It took a couple of blinks for her form to focus, and then Callum noticed she was approaching him.
With about as much speed as before, he snapped his head back down to his sketchbook. Multiple countenances of varying intensities met his eyes, all of which too similar to the one getting closer. Callum's eyes promptly widened for a moment. He rapidly turned the page over. More drawings of Rayla.
"I was going ta ask—" he heard. She was about a foot away now. Callum turned the page again, and though there weren't as many drawings of the elf-girl, there were still more than zero. Rayla seemed to pause for a second just as Callum decidedly slammed his sketchbook shut, still fully upright with his legs crossed. His breaths came out a tad faster than usual. He stared straight ahead, his eyes falling on the knee-guards of Rayla's armor. Some more seconds passed before Callum swiveled his eyes up like boulders, seeing Rayla's curious pout. She'd tilted her head to the side, causing some silver locks of hair to spill over. A conspicuously forced grin etched itself on Callum's features.
"Ask?" he questioned back. The pitch of his voice was a little too high to be deemed normal. Rayla's expression didn't move an inch. Callum continued out of sheer anxiety, clutching his sketchbook tightly to his chest as if to fuse the binding in place. "What were you going to ask? You can ask. I'm an ask-y guy. Yep."
Rayla didn't respond right away. The most of an indication she'd heard him was her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Callum would probably do the same in her place. Silent, the girl stepped a little to Callum's side, slowly lowering herself onto the stone and watching him the entire way down. Out of the corner of his eye, Callum could see Zym staring at them again with a newfound fascination. He didn't dare relax his posture nor his grip on the sketchbook. With a persistently suspicious leer, Rayla propped one of her elbows up on an outstretched knee, humming.
"Ask away," Callum repeated. He studied her features carefully, hoping she wouldn't act on his bluff and ignore how forcefully he was gripping his sketchbook. Of course, with his luck, any prayers he sent out would probably work to his detriment more than anything else. "We have time, right? With the dragon out there and everything. Plenty of time to be asking."
"Mhm." Rayla nodded again. She leaned a little closer, eyeing the sketchbook Callum was pressing into his sternum. Somehow he'd managed to hold it even tighter in an effort to diminish its visibility in his jacket. Hiding the sketchbook wasn't something he'd be able to accomplish from someone as perceptive as Rayla, and she motioned towards it, her pastel purple eyes darting to its cover. One of her hands was brought to her chin in a contemplative scratch.
"What'cha hidin' from me?" she asked plainly. In the next instant, Callum recoiled, thankfully not hitting his head against any sort of rock. He shook away the suspicion to the best of his ability.
"Hiding?" he repeated, shrugging dramatically. "Whaaat? Nothing, I'm not— nope, not hiding anything. What could I possibly have to hide from you?"
Rayla snorted in another cynical laugh, still leaning closer to him. "I can take a guess 'er two if you want," she offered with a roll of her eyes. Callum just shook his head, silent. Still his hands remained frozen over his sketchbook despite the obvious interest Rayla was giving it. His vision adjusted to the cave's dimness a while ago, so seeing the suspicion on his friend's features wasn't too difficult. Acknowledging that suspicion was a different matter entirely.
"Your journal." Rayla nodded towards it, remaining close to Callum. A little too close, if he was being honest; he could see the grooves of her horns with a personal clarity he was hesitant to admit. As if to regain some distance, he tried leaning away, though couldn't accomplish as much from under Rayla's gaze. She spoke again with an obvious curiosity. "You were lookin' pretty hard at whatever you drew in your journal."
A correction slipped from Callum's lips on instinct. "Actually, it's a sketchbook," he muttered, still caught in Rayla's purple eyes. Rayla only rolled those eyes again, even letting out a huff of agitated air. One of her hands lightly struck against his shoulder with a *whap*.
"You know what I mean." Under normal circumstances, Rayla probably wouldn't be that curious, but Callum's fervor to slam his sketchbook shut couldn't have seemed too normal. Given that there wasn't much to do while they waited for Sol Regem to leave his post (a dwindling hope, honestly), anything with a hint of interest was greatly amplified. Zym matched some of Rayla's curiosity, looking expectantly towards Callum's sketchbook. Still, he held it closed.
"Oh, y'know," he tried waving off with an easy grin, "I was just looking at… drawings." Neither his tone nor smile felt that persuasive. The cave, spacious as it was, seemed to shrink from Rayla's unamused countenance.
"Ah," she said sarcastically, "O' course. Thought you were lovingly gazin' into a platter of bee-apples."
Callum rose an eyebrow. Rayla shrugged. "Moonshadow elf joke," she waved off. Regardless of her odd sense of humor, the girl shook her head, motioning towards Callum's sketchbook again. She brought up a hand to tap its cover, just over his heart. The other hand jerked towards the cave's mouth like Rayla wanted to slap the guardian of Xadia's desert. "C'mon, ain't have much to do with that lumpy lizard out there. Why the secrecy?"
Up in front of the both of them, Zym let out an indignant bark. The young dragon's frown was difficult to discern among the large eyes and puppy-like demeanor. Rayla rose her arms up as if asking for forgiveness, apparently reading Zym's displeasure. "Didn't mean you, little one."
Callum hummed an uncertain tune, glancing to the side a moment as his back relaxed by a fraction. Really, he shouldn't have had much of a reason to hide his drawings of Rayla; she'd become one of his (if not, his only) best friends over the past couple of weeks, so sharing his sketching wasn't supposed to be all that important. But something about drawing her that easily… for the most part, Callum wasn't too paranoid, but this case felt different. Too different.
"Oh, uh," he tried again. A lump of guilt formed in his throat, but it felt more petty than anything else. Like he had to explain away why Ezran's stash of jelly-tarts had mysteriously gone missing. Rayla's suspicion wasn't helping. "They're kinda… uh, bad. Real bad, just— pretty terrible, yeah. Not worth looking at."
Unsurprisingly, Rayla didn't seem to buy that. Callum looked towards Zym for some kind of support, and even his expression emanated a "Seriously, you expect me to believe that?" kind of attitude. Rayla spoke again, even more interested than before.
"Callum, please," she told him. "I've already seen your drawin'." The fact that she didn't believe he could draw something poorly was equal parts flattering and detrimental. Maybe his earlier prayers did work against him. Now that she had something else to focus on, Rayla didn't seem nearly as concerned with hiding in a cave for upwards of an hour straight. "Dunno what the big deal is, mist'r artist."
If how hard he looked at the drawings of Rayla was anything to go by, then Callum assumed that there was some big deal she was trying to push under the rug. Again, maybe that was the aforementioned paranoia. He glanced towards the mouth of the cave for a second, his fingers untensing. The tight bend of his arms was another matter.
Because of this asymmetrical strength of his grasp, Callum was able to witness the surprise on Rayla's face when she failed to tug the sketchbook out of his hands.
They stared at each other for a second. Callum blinked, then looked at Rayla's hands around the exposed corners of his sketchbook. She wasn't pulling all that hard now.
"Uh…" she let out, her eyes still broad. The elf's fingers hadn't moved. "That was… supposed ta' work."
Callum blinked again. "H-hey!" he suddenly exclaimed, yanking away his sketchbook as much as his body would allow. Due to an effort to keep it close to himself, he more-or-less just leaned far to the left. Rayla's hands stayed glued to the book, so she ended up getting pulled along. Callum tried pulling the sketchbook away further, this time more upwards, and still Rayla held on stubbornly. "You have to respect a man's sketchbook, Rayla!"
Callum could've sworn she laughed for a second. Whatever she was could've enjoyed about this didn't translate to him. "Eh," she said, tugging on the sketchbook again. It was a little demeaning how easily she could bring the sketchbook back down to eye-level. "I do respect th' book. With you bein' so weird about it, though…"
In spite of his minor struggle, Callum let out an amused grunt. It wouldn't have sounded so exasperated if Rayla wasn't still pulling backwards against him. Just because she was so much comparatively stronger didn't mean Callum couldn't put up a fight. His legs uncrossed, the boy hoping his boots would find some purchase on the stony ground. Again, Rayla found much more amusement in the struggle, matching his pull. Zym yipped eagerly.
For a brief moment, Rayla relaxed her arms, but still held onto Callum's sketchbook. "I'm curious to see what qualifies as bad fer' someone like you," she told him, conspicuously proud. He wasn't sure exactly what "someone like him" meant in the context, though he hoped it was a good thing. Rayla's usual sarcasm made it difficult to tell. "'Sides, they're just drawin's, right?"
It wasn't that Callum treated his drawings being seen as the apocalypse, but Rayla's gusto to take it from his hands made the only appropriate response a similar show of force. Callum relaxed his body for a second, allowing himself to lose another few inches of distance between Rayla and him. Then, just as the smirk on Rayla's lips grew triumphant, he hauled his arms upwards as fast as he could with a matching grunt of exertion. In the next second, he realized how much of a grip Rayla could have in spite of her two-less-fingers disadvantage.
They didn't hit the wall of the cave like before, but Callum still let out an unceremonious grunt when his back collided with the stone floor. Another harsher grunt followed when Rayla fell directly on top of him, her armor somewhat digging into the front of his jacket; evidently, he had pulled away from her a little harder than he should've. Both impacts forced Callum's fingers to untense in the process, and he heard his sketchbook land just out of reach some distance from his hands. Despite being a little taller, Rayla's face ended up somewhere near Callum's chest. A groan reverberated through the fabric of his jacket. Subsequently, Callum had the odd memory of how proficient Rayla could be with her swords, and prayed he hadn't given her a reason to use them.
"Well done," she granted, still as sarcastic as usual. She placed a hand on either side of Callum's torso, lifting herself up to face him. The patience in her expression was so thin that Callum half expected it to get blown away in the sliver of gust of the cave. That was his hope, anyway. An upset Rayla could be a scary Rayla. She shook her head, some of her hair no longer swept behind her ear.
"Uh," Callum began, a nervous shake in his voice, "sorry." He moved his arms a little in an attempt to sit up more, but the position of Rayla's own arms halted his movements. As such, he simply lay on the ground motionlessly, staring up at the elf above him. She didn't reply to his apology with any one of her usually exasperated witticisms. Then Callum recalled that he shouldn't have had too much to apologize for. "But, I did tell you to respect the sketchbook."
"And I said—" Rayla started. Her words halted in place suddenly, freezing in tandem with her posture. Given the awkwardness of having her directly above him, Callum's own muscles petrified. If she was close to him before their shared fall to the side of a dizzying three-or-so feet, then her proximity now was… well, it was analogous to how close Callum had held onto his sketchbook. Rayla's eyes had snapped forwards, looking at something relatively past Callum's point of view on the cave floor. Wordlessly, she bent her elbows inwards, subsequently reducing the distance between herself and Callum even further. He could feel the subtle edges of her armor through his fabric. The next thing he could feel was a palpable warmth spreading across his face.
"Uh, Rayla?" he tried asking. Still motionless, he attempted to clear his throat and improve on the relative squeak his words turned into. Rayla kept her gaze somewhere past his grounded head. It'd incited him to tilt his head upwards, twisting it in the hope of following where her eyes lay. All he could notice was the leather binding of his sketchbook, now open. Callum couldn't see what page faced upwards from his place on the ground. Thanks to his paranoia, an embarrassed blush compounded on top of the one Rayla caused regardless. He had an idea on what she could see. "I can explain— uh, probably—"
Rayla didn't necessarily interrupt him, but she did move herself up in a way that froze Callum's lips. Or maybe it was her features. Callum's cheeks lost a little of his flustered blush, and his eyebrows lowered in a confused grimace. Of all the expressions he'd expected to accrue from Rayla, one of hurt wasn't what he expected at all. It stung far too much whether or not Callum anticipated it. His body untensed. Rayla held herself above him, keeping her eyes on his in a kind of inspection. There was some degree of sorrowful confusion in the purple; that nondescript befuddlement that accompanied most bad news. Then the confusion made way for a silent frustration, bordering on furious. Rayla wordlessly leaned off of Callum with an angry spat of air.
Still worried, Callum forced himself to sit up a tad straighter. He found himself preferring his awkward predicament over having his best friend so angry. Though, he had to wonder as to why she'd gained so much anger. As Rayla sat herself away from him (at a distance he had to describe as a little cold), Callum twisted himself around to glance at his sketchbook. He'd assumed that the semi-incriminating drawings of Rayla had done him in, regardless of how well her reaction fit.
Instead, a few older drawings of Claudia were prominently displayed on the pages.
"Still feel fer' that wench, eh?" Rayla asked, sounding borderline venomous. She returned to a huddled-up sit, crossing her arms over her knees with an annoyed grimace pulling her features together. Callum recoiled, still having trouble believing that his drawings of the dark mage were the ones Rayla had witnessed. He was sure that it would've been the ones of her. Hesitant, Callum sat back up properly, reaching towards his sketchbook like it was covered in broken glass. One his fingers slid across the rough paper, feeling the copious smears of erasing he'd done so long ago. He felt himself frown; out of anger or confusion, he wasn't sure. Maybe both. A weathered sigh escaped his lips.
"Rayla…" he began, unsure of what direction his words would go. Carefully, he picked up the edge of his sketchbook, trying to sit more comfortably as he placed it in his lap. Zym let out a curious whine, taking a few steps closer to Callum. The young dragon's eyes were angled downwards, and he inspected the source of Rayla's frustration. Callum could see the exact moment Zym recognized who was drawn on the pages. A second later, Zym shot back with a scared yip, his paws making a quick *patter-patter* on the floor of the cave. He ended up trying to hide around a stalagmite just a little too small for him.
"He's got the right idea," Rayla said in a low tone. Still sounding venomous, too. After their last skirmish with Claudia, Callum could see why. The misinterpretation that he'd been looking at her couldn't have been too pleasant of a thought. Though, Callum had to admit that simply explaining the true source of his stare didn't feel helpful either. He rubbed the back of his neck, nervous. Wordlessly, he closed his sketchbook, not giving a second glance to his drawings. The mood seemed to take a sharp turn down compared to a minute or two ago. Heck, Rayla was grinning back then. Now, reminded of Claudia, Callum found himself in his own troubled contemplation.
"She's not…" he started again. And again, he wasn't sure what he ought to say next. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to say next. Anything regarding Claudia was in a bit of a muddied spot right now. As if to fill in for him, Rayla spoke up, visibly tightening her posture.
"She's not 'evil'?" Callum wasn't surprised by how consistently he could hear the anger. The exact direction of that anger was what left him a little tense. Debating whatever argument Rayla could've incited felt too petty to consider. Her voice confirmed as much. "She's not one o' the 'bad guys?' Or how about this; since we saved 'er, she's not a dragon killer."
Realistically, Callum probably should've been upset by having one of his friends badmouth another one. But right now, it felt more like Rayla was venting some pent-up frustration more than anything else. Her assumption that he'd been looking at Claudia so intently earlier was probably the pebble that broke the dam. Rayla continued, throwing up an arm in some sort of spite. "She's already shown her hand. But no, b' all means, keep givin' her those puppy eyes. She definit'ly deserves it."
Something about the last statement stung. Callum didn't recoil from the harshness, but he did feel a grimace pull at the side of his mouth. He was quiet, expecting Rayla to have more to say. It certainly felt that way. Instead, Rayla went quiet herself, turning her weapon of an expression away with a frustrated huff. Callum slowly slid a finger across the binding of his sketchbook; it was his own form of a nervous habit. He glanced to the sunlight of the cave, then to Zym still trying to hide. The dragon's tail was forced low in a kind of puerile fear. Callum opened his mouth, thought for a second, then spoke slowly and carefully.
"She doesn't," he started, as quiet as he was purposeful. Rayla didn't turn to face him, but he did notice the point of her ears perk up a fraction. That'd have to do be taken as her listening, subtle as it was. Whatever was frustrating Rayla so much had a higher priority than the misunderstanding involving Callum's sketchbook. "Not after everything."
Callum found the words before he could really process them. He's had years with Claudia, that much was fairly established. No one could throw away that much of his life away like it was nothing, no matter how horrendous her betrayal had felt. At the same time, that betrayal still had its own lasting impact on Callum. Somehow, he felt like he was talking to himself more than Rayla, only understanding that she could afford to hear whatever he had to say. "Claudia and I… we've been friends for a long time. For years, actually."
Rayla suddenly shot him a scowl, though didn't interrupt, as much as she probably wanted to. Callum continued while he could. "She's also done some pretty bad stuff, though. I know she thinks she's doing the right thing— but, by now…"
Callum breathed out another sigh. "Even I have to admit, I thought she'd be convinced. I mean, it doesn't get much more heroic than ending war by bringing a family back together, does it?"
After a few seconds, Rayla breathed out another huff of air. The crease of her eyebrows didn't seem to be going anywhere any time soon. "Oh, so she's not little-miss-perfect?" she said in a mock epiphany, shaking her head. Her arms looked like they were stuck together in a permanent cross of agitation. "Shocker."
Her tone still seemed justified, so Callum avoided making an argument out of it. He was more concerned with his own argument, trying to put a practical logic over what his optimism wanted him to believe. Rayla had been right; Claudia had already shown where her goals were. Callum did his best to accept that, speaking again after a pregnant pause. "Now, I don't think I can really think about that anymore."
Some of the scowl on Rayla's features diminished. Now she seemed more angrily curious than angrily furious. Callum let out a sigh, crossing his legs again and putting his palms to his knees. His fingers tapped against the fabric of his jeans. As naturally as the words came to him, he still had difficulty acknowledging them. "Wow, this is hard to say. I mean—"
He cleared his throat, nodding to himself like he was gathering up confidence. He was, really. "I mean, I can't… think about her. I shouldn't try to remember her as on old friend right now, as much as I want to."
Callum hesitated for a second, slouching somewhat as he thought over the admittance. "Does that, uh, make sense?"
His words remained suspended in the air like snowflakes. More like an unreleased spell, actually. Rayla kept silent, not even giving a hum of acknowledgement. She turned back away from him. One of her own fingers began tapping against her knee. Callum found his hand moving across the binding of his sketchbook again, still as usually anxious. He couldn't see his companion's expression, though he hoped it'd lost some of its anger. There was a definite preference to the grin she had earlier. Even one of her unamused grimaces would be welcome. After what felt like an eternity, she spoke up.
"Barely," Rayla admitted. There was an obvious drop of anger in her tone. Comforting as that might've been, Callum still felt tense at the regret that'd replaced her venom. Rayla's arms visibly dropped a little. "I'd like you t' forget about her, too."
Callum nodded, then paused halfway through the motion. His first assumption was that there were a lot more important things to worry about, like getting Zym to his mother and the huge Sun dragon probably still outside their cave. There was something unique about Rayla's tone, though. Something so subtle it was akin to seeing those minute physical details about her much quicker than he should've. Hesitant, Callum forced his mouth open. "What do you mean?"
His question seemed too quiet to be taken comfortably. Rayla shifted herself a handful of degrees towards him, allowing him to see the mixture of hurt and frustration adorning her features. The sight didn't sit well with Callum, for a number of reasons.
"Exac'ly that," she told him, about as quiet as he was. Rayla glanced to the side for a second, and for that brief second, Callum could've sworn her eyes were a little darker than usual. She looked back to him with a heavy sigh. Her ears kept their point towards the ground. "I know, you had years with 'er. She used to be— maybe still is, but I really hope not— one o' your friends, and maybe…"
She paused for a second. The next part seemed physically stuck in her throat for a couple moments before it left her lips. "…maybe somethin' more to you. But she's also a dark mage who tried kidnapping you, n' seemed awfully eager to kill me. On top of th' whole dragon-killing attempt."
The paranoid part of Callum wanted to disagree with the "more than a friend" part, but that obviously wasn't where his current focus was. He hummed, moving himself a tad closer to Rayla. Neither person said much about it. Instead, Callum tried to offer his own understanding.
"Claudia's definitely not perfect," he admitted. Right now, she seemed far from perfect, and knowing how contradictory that perception was from the earlier view he had on her was a stark contrast. Still, he couldn't erase the hope in his tone so quickly. "And she still doesn't get what we're doing yet. But—"
"But what, Callum?" Rayla suddenly burst out. There seemed to be a little more from the dam that hadn't finished spilling out yet. One her hands nearly slammed into the stone floor of the cave, causing both Callum and Zym to jump. "You said it yourself, she doesn't deserve those puppy-dog eyes. She doesn't deserve your friendship, and definitely doesn't deserve you!"
Rayla suddenly stopped whatever indignant movements her frustration had caused. She froze, about as still as Callum was. Her eyebrows elevated in surprise upon some internal realization. Callum was more-or-less stunned by what she'd said; in a sense, so was she, but her petrification seemed to be for a different implication. Callum eyed her in silence, processing what she was saying. The anger of her tone dissipated once again.
"You're too good fer' her," she said solemnly. Her legs untensed, stretching out a little as the lilac of her eyes fell to the ground. The marks under her eyes seemed bluer than usual. "The fact that you still want ta' be friends with that— with her, just proves it."
Still Callum held his mouth shut. How was anyone supposed to respond to that? Not even the familiar surface of his sketchbook offered a verbal insight. All Callum could do was sit and watch the disappointment of his friend. He noticed Zym watching similarly, an obvious discomfort on the dragon's own features. Careful, Callum tried moving a tad closer to Rayla, feeling more and more like whatever he said would be for her sake instead of his. Having so few people to worry about in his life made the ones he did award concern much more important. Something about Claudia was obviously bugging Rayla more than just the generous trust Callum had given the dark mage.
For a brief second, Callum looked back down to the leather of his sketchbook. It was held shut now, laid over his lap like a brick. The paper felt like it was waiting for something. Then, a bright candle flickered to life over Callum's head.
"Here," he said, gripping his sketchbook again. Rayla had taken to the previous pose of crossing her arms around her knees, though the posture seemed much looser. Her ears still pointed at the floor. She heard him well enough regardless, and gave him a glance from the corner of her eye. The distress on her features only persuaded Callum to continue, and he cracked open the pages of his sketchbook, speaking tentatively. "If— uh, if it means anything, I wasn't… looking at Claudia, earlier."
That piqued Rayla's interest. She moved closer to him as a result, turning back forwards. Her eyes scanned over the anxiety of Callum's expression (just because he was actively trying to make her feel better didn't mean he was 100% comfortable in doing so, but he was willing to make the sacrifice). Steeling his nerves, Callum did his best to ignore the pierce of her gaze and flip through his sketchbook. Special care was taken to pass over the pages of Claudia. Callum found the right page after a couple more seconds, and took a preparatory breath. He motioned downwards without a word.
After a lengthy bout of observation, Rayla tore her eyes from Callum's expression to see what he was referring to. She didn't seem to expect what she saw, judging by how broad her eyes became. A slight warmth rose to Callum's cheeks. Embarrassment? Anxiety? Whatever caused the rush of blood in his face, it was too vague to really pin down. Callum tried ignoring it as much as he could. He also tried ignoring how well he'd managed to draw Rayla, and was as successful in that endeavor as he was the first couple of times. That was to say, not at all successful.
"That's… me," Rayla slowly let out, each word falling from her lips like a pair of bowling stones. Callum only nodded, despite Rayla not currently able to see as much. She inspected his sketchbook a tad closer while the artist did his best to explain.
"Back when you went to defend that dragon," he told her, one hand moving to the back of his neck, "I… well, drew… you."
"I noticed," Rayla muttered. There was a lot more to what Callum wanted to say than that. Somehow, the words got too jumbled up in his vocal cords for any further explanation to be made right away. Looking back on the event was an introspection he was hesitant to take. Rayla kept her eyes on the sketchbook, now moving herself right to Callum's side. Her leg slightly pressed up against his. That also felt like an introspection he didn't want to currently take. Instead, he shrugged, hoping to downplay the importance of his drawings like any sensible person. Rayla spoke slowly with an awe neither person could place.
"I don't remember posin' fer' this," she said. One of her hands rose to her side, hovering over the sketchbook for a couple seconds before lowering down to the page. She seemed especially drawn (not that Callum intended the pun) to a depiction of her in a challenging stance, tense and ready for battle with her swords drawn. Even without dialogue, the image emanated an obvious sense of pride and confidence. That somehow made it feel all the more incriminating to Callum. Paranoid as it might've been, the boy felt his cheeks warm up again.
"Y-yeah, uh," he uncertainly stammered. His eyes were thrown towards the cave's ceiling, pretending to count stalactites. "You didn't. I— I just kinda drew it anyways. From my head. Completely. In, like, three minutes."
Callum cleared his throat, not daring to eye either Rayla looking over his sketchbook or the drawings within that sketchbook. "Um, sorry."
Rayla straightened her back to look at him. Only one glance was given to her features, though the befuddlement of her expression was remarkably easy to spot. Her legs moved forwards a tad to let her sit more comfortably.
"What're you apologizing fer'?" she questioned, sounding genuinely curious. Callum still wasn't convinced she didn't find the drawings a little strange. He certainly felt that way. The one thing he was uncertain about was why. Similarly, he was a little uncertain on what he'd said sorry for.
"I— dunno," he shrugged off. The sketchbook felt heavier in his lap, probably weighted by the culprit of its contents. Callum pushed a couple more words from his mouth like wheelbarrows of concrete. "I guess I— well I did, I mean— I figured it was kinda… weird."
There wasn't much of a real explanation there. As such, Rayla only hummed, looking back down at the sketchbook. She was silent, glancing over the drawings of herself. Watching her expression unfortunately required interpreting it, so Callum kept his eyes off of her in lieu of anything resembling a normal conversation. At least she seemed to forget about Claudia for the time being.
"Weird… how?" Callum heard his friend ask. Somehow, the question carried an air of caution among its curiosity. That didn't exactly put Callum at ease. Regardless, he did owe Rayla an explanation, especially if it could diminish the awkwardness he more-or-less brought on himself. Callum cleared his throat, eventually forcing himself to face Rayla directly.
"Well, it was easy?" he tried. A guilty grin tugged at his mouth. Rayla appeared surprised, her eyes widening a fraction. It was too late to try and backpedal on what he was saying, so Callum pressed forward instead, hoping to phrase himself better. "I didn't really think about it, I mean. I just kinda drew automatically, thinking about how useless I was, and how I just let you go back down to that dragon alone…"
He sighed. The red in his cheeks didn't go anywhere. "These drawings pretty much happened on their own."
Something in Rayla's expression softened. Compared to the sharp bite of her anger before, noticing any degree of ease was trivial. She moved her hand off of Callum's sketchbook to place it over his own hand, resting on his knee.
"C'mon, you're not useless," she assured him, the slightest of grins bending her lips upwards. "Worse comes to worst, I'm sure you'd make good dragon bait."
The humor Rayla gave Callum seemed to have a much better impact than any emotional reassurance. Callum liked to think she'd known as much. He found himself grinning a little, some of the flustered red in his cheeks fading. Not weirding-out his best friend was something to be thankful for. That best friend being so quick to offer her unique form of comfort, even more so. Callum nodded, shrugging.
"Probably," he returned. For a brief second, he looked back forwards, seeing Zym curling his head around the stalagmite he hid behind earlier. The dragon was found staring at both Callum and Rayla. His gaze wasn't particularly invasive, though still felt too observant to be casual. Callum ignored the suspicion either way. His eyes swiveled towards Rayla's before moving back down to his sketchbook. After a brief contemplation, he nodded, his grin fading in the process. "I'm not saying I feel useless anymore. I mean, I'm a human connected to Sky magic. Not a whole lot of people like that running around."
Rayla nodded for a moment, listening. Callum appreciated it. "But back then… I needed to do something. I—"
Callum took a deep breath, not expecting the morning to take this much of an honest turn. "I needed to be something, for your sake."
If he was feeling particularly poetic (not a trait he tended to possess), Callum would've described the soft recoil from Rayla akin to a flower blooming. With how her eyebrows elevated alongside her broadened eyes, the description seemed to make more sense than usual. Rayla didn't move, blinking for a few moments. One lingering shred of paranoia made Callum pray he didn't just make their awkwardly non-awkward moment awkward. Some time passed. Then Rayla shook her head, clearing her throat as if to restart her expression. Now the marks under her eyes seemed more violet than blue, as did the rest of her face.
"I… appreciate that," she granted honestly. Her hand moved off of Callum's to tap the paper of his sketchbook. For that one brief second, he found himself missing the warmth his friend's contact offered.
Wait, was that weird?
Rayla spoke again before he could contemplate any further. "But I much pref'r you as a borin' artist than a dark mage."
The honesty was welcome enough to accrue a laugh out of Callum. "Yeah, me too," he agreed. "Dark magic is the worst. Evil and gross. And horrifying."
Rayla nodded approval. After the awful nightmares that followed his use of dark magic, Callum wasn't going to try it again anytime soon. And, also, the whole "completely evil and an atrocity to nature" side of it pushed him away, too. In truth, the only reason he considered it…
Callum cleared his throat. Rayla could probably afford to hear this part as well. She paid a special attention to his face, a little closer than usual. Just because the sight might've vaguely been daunting didn't mean she'd frozen his vocal cords. Though, the persistent feeling of her leg against his did slow him down a little.
"I didn't want to do dark magic," he heard himself clarify. The assurance was probably unnecessary, considering whom he was talking to, but Rayla nodded all the same. Something about her features seemed to literally brighten the cave. In truth, it was probably just the morning sun moving further into the sky outside, but either way, Callum took it as a good sign to continue talking. "Like I said, I just needed to do something. Anything."
Rayla smirked, evidently enjoying Callum's honesty. "So, you're sayin'…" she started slowly, taking her time. Her grin graduated from flattered to smug seamlessly. One of those unique elven traits about her, Callum supposed. "…you went against ev'rything you knew about dark magic, evil and all, just to help lil' ol' me?"
She was really enjoying the implication Callum granted. He rolled his eyes, though had to be glad he'd gotten her to grin again. Definitely better than any kind of upset frown. Callum allowed himself to nod, forming a pattern between his honesty and the effect it had on Rayla.
"You could technically say that," he told her, "but… yeah, pretty much." He frowned suddenly, glancing back down towards his sketchbook. "Not that I'm saying that excuses it."
"Oh, definitely not," Rayla agreed. "But I still appreciate it." Her smile stayed purposefully smug for another few seconds before she looked back down at the sketchbook again. Subsequently, that extended the lifespan of her smug grin. One of her fingers laid across the open page, reaching towards a corner. Callum watched in silence. There was a brief delay, then Rayla looked towards Callum again. Her expression was hard to define, though could broadly be described in some positive sense. Another delay passed. Rayla looked back down again, turning the pages of the sketchbook.
As expected, more drawings of Rayla. Callum could hear her laugh somewhat, though had to do a double-take to make sure he'd heard it right. The noise sounded more like a giggle than anything else. It wasn't often that he could incite that caliber of chuckling, and whether or not he'd done so on purpose, he did feel pride from causing it. Who knew one could enjoy being drawn so much? Maybe Callum could offer a few more sketchings later.
"And…" Rayla began, looking over the copious drawings of herself. Her once-smug smile looked more proud of Callum, now. She leaned a little into him, her eyes still surveying his sketchbook. The lilac gained some kind of sparkling alongside the general liveliness within it. "You were lookin' at me, earlier?"
Right, that was the implication he was trying to avoid in the first place. Rayla didn't make it seem like a bad thing with her recent reaction to his drawings of her. Callum drew out a lengthy hum regardless, though the answer was plenty obvious already. Rayla tended to have a good sense of the truth.
"Yeah," Callum finally allowed himself to say. Not that the word was quiet, but he tried pouring an extra dose of authenticity into his voice, understanding Rayla's eagerness to hear it. Her ears were as perked up as a dog's (though she probably wouldn't think the comparison was very flattering, no matter Callum's good intentions). He shrugged, one hand moving behind his head. "I didn't want to say because-"
"Awww!" Rayla interrupted him, sounding like she'd just witnessed a banther cub playing with a ball of yarn. Before Callum could make any kind of response, she twisted away from him. Then she twisted back into him, wasting no time in wrapping her arms around his torso. To describe her grip as tight would be an understatement of galactic proportions. She spoke with a fervor unfamiliar to Callum's ears. "How can one dumb human be so sweet?"
That definitely wasn't the response Callum was expecting. He would've double-checked that it was still Rayla hugging him if he could physically move at all. A palpable spark ignited over his cheeks. Nonplussed, he glanced at Rayla as much as he could, only seeing the white snow of her hair and the grooved horns that poked out from the locks.
"Uh-" he started, uncertain. Now what was he supposed to do? Relying on experience, Callum hesitantly put his own arms around Rayla in an awkward reciprocation. Every movement was slow to the point of impracticality. It was like he was trying to hug a motion-sensitive cactus-bush. "-thanks...?"
Rayla's embrace relented just a fraction. Hopefully that was a good sign; Callum couldn't currently tell. With the side of his head almost pressed against his friend's, hearing her sigh was much easier. The breath sounded more relieved or comforted than exasperated. Callum guessed it was the second description of the three. Somehow. Rayla completely let up after a short while, moving back to face Callum directly. All he could make a note of was her wide smile before she leaned towards him. Then he felt the soft surface of her lips press against his cheek.
"Keep that up," she told him, pulling away again, "an' I might actually pose fer' you, if you want."
Callum didn't respond in the slightest. No retort, no awkward chuckling, no exaggerated wave of the arms, nothing. His complete lack of… everything didn't dissuade Rayla by any noticeable degree. She tapped his open sketchbook with one of her hands, then placed the other on her knee. A few seconds later, she was standing up confidently, dusting her palms off like nothing ever happened. Whatever just happened, Callum remained speechless, only his eyes moving to follow Rayla.
"I'm going ta' check if Sol Regem's still out there," she said. Her expression was comparatively brighter than the initial annoyance she had the first dozen or so minutes they'd found the cave. "Maybe we can get to the fun not-canyons-n'-sand part o' Xadia before sundown." Unlike Callum, she didn't seem at all affected by the gracious affection she'd just given him.
Still the boy watched her step away. After about three seconds of confident strides, she suddenly slowed down. The white of Rayla's hair blocked her expression, but Callum could see her hands momentarily condense into the tightest fists he'd ever seen, her arms as straight as arrows in a tense brace at her sides. She seemed to stumble for a moment. Then, she continued forwards, like Callum just imagined her nearly fainting on the spot.
Barely, Callum lifted a hand towards his face, nearly shaking from the lingering surprise Rayla gave him. His finger gently rubbed over his cheek, his eyes still wide. It took another couple dozen seconds for the rest of him to reanimate, and he tilted his head downwards towards the sketchbook in his lap. Noticing something on the edge of his vision, he looked back up from his various drawings of Rayla.
Zym stared at him from a short distance, sitting attentively. The dragon's expression held that blank curiosity pets usually had watching the stranger rituals humans performed. Callum stared into the prince's eyes, his own still remarkably broad.
"Don't tell Ezran," was all he said.
A/N: Hope you've enjoyed! Though feel free to tell me why this sucks if it does; been a while since I wrote so I'm a little paranoid. I mean, heck, I don't even got a real cover image thing 'cause I thought it'd be too succinct to denote some drawing. This was originally supposed to be a LOT shorter, and I'm always hesitant about having too much room for error. But hey, more the merrier and all that, right? See you around! Have a good day! :D