Drink

Jester doesn't know what prompted this pattern of behaviour, where Beau goes out every night with Nott and comes back to their room drunk. Some nights, Jester waits up, whether out of guilt or responsibility she's not sure. And when she does, she hears the words that Beau speaks to her in the dark.

Mostly, Beau says innocuous things. Things like "Goodnight, Jes" or "You're a great friend." Sometimes, Beau says things that Jester hopes are closer to the truth, "You are the most wonderful person I've ever met". And once in a while, Beau will surprise her with something poetic and touching, "You are rainforest butterfly drinking dew from the moon, and so damn beautiful I'm afraid I'll break you somehow."

But in the mornings, Beau is steel and ice, and never quite that open with her, so Jester cries inside. And Jester knows that Beau can't possibly be in love with her. There was Yasha, then Keg, and Reani. And Beau's never shown the slightest interest in her, right? Even if she does sometimes say those things that sound an awful lot like lines from love stories.

One Bed

The thing that hurts Jester the most, is that Beau believes she could just walk away and leave, and that they wouldn't miss her. That the Mighty Nein would be all right without Beau. That Jester would just go on without her. That's the part killing Jester inside.

So Jester's done being subtle. She's the one arranging rooms for the Mighty Nein this time around, and she knows exactly what to ask for. Jester asks for rooms with one bed, because she's read those types of stories, and they always start this way.

Laugh

Beau laughs, not because Jester's birth name is Geneviève, but because Jester has a different birth name at all. She laughs, because she knows if she doesn't, she will lash out. The way Beau deals with emotion has always been laughter or anger.

So she laughs, and covers her mouth, because her palms are suddenly sweaty. Jester is supposed to be the bubbly one. But maybe their little blue tiefling is just as damaged as the rest of them. And maybe Jester is stronger than any of them know.

Beau can't help but think then, that Jester is the one living the dream, running off to chase her own adventure, friends at her back, with no name but the one she gives herself. So Beau laughs, because she feels envious, and weak, and even more hopelessly in love.

Magic

The day that Artagan left, Jester's spells went away too. She sat for a long time on the beach of Nicodranas, looking out over the ocean with tears falling from her face.

And Beau sat with her, even as the sun started to set and Jester took out her paints. The tiefling's motions were quick and angry and exaggerated, wide strokes of brushing punctuated with short stabs. She painted, and cried, and Beau watched in silence.

The monk watched the scene form, a sunset over the ocean, an impossible door hovering just above it, and the most fleeting glimpse of a green cloak disappearing through it. And on the beach nearby, two blue girls, holding hands, looking up towards the open sky and the future.

Then Beau was crying too, because even though there were no words between them, she knew that there was still magic in those hands.

And that there always would be.

Flirt

Beau flirts, because that's just what she does. Keep trying, and see what sticks. And maybe Yasha wasn't around for awhile. Maybe Yasha had nearly killed her when she came back, but Beau flirts, and it doesn't feel the same anymore. Now it makes Beau feel guilty.

Sometimes Jester is nearby, and Beau thinks that maybe Jester will be jealous this time, maybe Jester will hear her, and realize, and do… something. But the tiefling never does. Jester smiles, waggles her eyebrows at the two of them, and laughs it off.

Because Yasha is healing. Yasha might be starting to believe she belongs again. Yasha responds, jokes back. And Beau can't help feeling like she's lying to herself.

Offering

Jester offers to Beau the painting she's done of the monk. And it's beautiful of course, far more beautiful than Beau sees herself, but it feels strange to accept. "It just seems weird to have a picture of myself, like something rich people do. Why don't you keep it?"

Jester's face falls, and she's a little bit sad, because she thinks this might be the best painting she's ever done, and she really wanted Beau to have it. "What would you want to have then?"

"Why don't you paint yourself? I'd like that. Or add yourself to this, and it can be a painting with both of us."

And Beau worries sometimes, that they won't have anything to remember each other by, because it is not safe work that they do. It's important work, but it's just as important to Beau for Jester to have good memories, to know true happiness. Because tomorrow they go to the Prism Sage, and Beau has only one thing to trade.

Ring

Beau spends four nights tinkering with her jeweler's kit before conceding defeat. This is not something she can do sitting in bed with goggles. She needs a workshop. Because she wants to make a ring, and she's never done that before. Then again, Beau has also decided to propose, and she's never done anything like that before either.

She gets Yasha and Nott to cover for her, distract Jester, make up excuses. And after three weeks of sneaking out to the jeweler's shop up the street, she has a silver band, inlaid with jade, and crowned with sapphires. And Beau isn't sure how she feels about rings, but she is sure about her feelings for Jester. Because even though they never talk about the future, Jester is always there in all of Beau's visions, and Beau can't imagine their life any other way.

So when she finally greets Jester that day, it's cupcake in hand, ring nestled neatly in the frosting, and tingles throughout her body. And she's supposed to think of something witty to say, something heartfelt and meaningful. Because all that time ago, when they stood outside the witch's hut, it was not Isharnai from which Jester saved Beau, but rather from Beau herself.

Jester smiles at the cupcake, and Beau, oblivious. Beau kneels, because that's what people do. Her words are nervous and stilted, stumbling and raw. "You told me once that blueberry was your favourite flavour, so this is for you. Save me again?"