Chapter Six:
Of Shoelaces & Spiced Wine
"It won't hurt me. It's friendly fire."
"That doesn't always mean what you think it means."
…
"Caleb," Molly cried, locking gazes with the man frozen in front of him. "Fire!"
And so Caleb did.
He clicked his fingers, the metal fingers of his Glove of Blasting clinked together. Three flaming bolts erupted from the rune on the back of his hand, jetting through the air, slamming into the triton's chest, and exploding on impact. The inferno engulfed both men and sent the triton flying backward off the dock. His charred body smashed into the lake with an ear-splitting hiss and a violent burst of steam.
Caleb rushed forward as the black smoke on the dock cleared. "Help! We need help!" he shouted over his shoulder at the boat before slamming down onto his knees beside Mollymauk.
Mollymauk coughed, raising his head and surveying the scene with squinting eyes. He'd shielded his face with his forearms, so only his hands, arm, and bits of his hair had taken the brunt of the blast, scorched black and still smoking.
Molly looked to Caleb, coughing out another puff of smoke. "Well, that worked," he said, managing a crooked grin. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto the charred dock.
"Are you alright, Mollymauk? Can you stand? How badly are you burned?" Caleb asked, hand's fluttering over Molly's body in panic as he tried to decide on his next course of action.
"I've had worse," Molly said with a quick laugh that turned into another cough. Something sounded wet and broken in his lungs. "You might need to help me up though," he admitted with a wince. "I think my ankle's broken."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, that I can do," Caleb said, taking several deep breaths to calm himself. The feeling of turning his magic on Mollymauk still rang raw and clear in his mind, playing on repeat. He reached for the necklace that wasn't there, catching his mistake a moment too late. He had to focus on the immediate. On the tangible.
He pulled Molly up off the dock enough so that he could wrap an arm around him to support his weight. Throwing his knees into it, Caleb lifted, groaning under the exertion until Molly managed to get his good leg under him to help support his own weight.
"Shall we?" Mollymauk asked breathlessly, looking ahead towards to boat.
Caleb nodded, taking a step forward that Molly matched. His flesh burned under Caleb's touch, almost too hot to stand, but Caleb ignored it and devoted all his energy to keeping rhythm with the limping Mollymauk.
The made it several feet towards The Yohimbe before Beau, Yasha, and Nott emerged, rushing towards them. The women pelted them with a swarm of questions neither had the breath to answer.
Yasha reached to pick Molly up to carry him, but as she lifted his legs off the ground he hissed in pain.
"Okay, not the ribs, not the ribs," he said through gritted teeth.
Yasha set him back down, settling for Caleb's idea and wrapping her large arm around him from the other side.
"Who did this to you?" she asked as they hobbled towards the ship now that Beau and Nott had stopped asking their questions.
"No one of interest," Molly said, forcing a grin.
"Molly," Yasha said, narrowing her eyes at the man.
"An old friend, apparently," he mumbled then broke off into another cough.
"I see," Yasha said. "Is he-?"
"Caleb took care of him," Molly said, shooting Caleb a grateful look.
Yasha mirrored the gesture. "Thank you, Caleb."
He avoided their gazes and focused on landing his steps on the uneven dock. "Yeah, well you told me to make sure he got back on board, so…"
"You had him babysitting me?" Molly asked Yasha in a playfully offended tone.
She attempted a shrug. "Someone has to."
They hoisted Molly back aboard where Elijah and Whitney stood waiting.
"Y'all aren't very lucky, are you?" Whitney concluded, looking the scorched and bloodied Mollymauk up and down.
"Not particularly, it seems," Caleb said. His shoulder ached under Molly's dead weight.
"Whit, if he's got a bruised rib those hammocks are hellish. We can't put him in the crew's quarters," Elijah said. "If we could put down some pallets—"
"We're packed full, Elijah," Whitney said, throwing her hands in the air. "I just don't see where—"
"I know a place," Caleb said. "There's a gap in the crates near the front of the ship."
"Check on it, Elijah," Whitney said, nodding him towards the stairs.
Elijah ran off into the hull. Within moments he sprinted back up the stairs and slid to a stop before them, panting and smiling. "He's right! There might even be enough room for the other tiefling if we're smart about it."
"One day in and we're already making a medical bay," Whitney said to no one in particular, shaking her head. "This trip was cursed from the start." She sighed then straightened, eyes locking on a set of nearby crew members. "You two, follow Elijah to the cargo bay and give him a hand," she barked.
Elijah led the two crew members down while Caleb, Molly, Yasha, Beau, and Nott followed at a slower pace. Fjord waited for them at the bottom of the stairs, shaking his head in disbelief.
"What the hell kinda shopping trip did y'all go on?" he asked, taking in Molly's injuries with wide eyes.
"We'll explain later," Caleb said as they hobbled past him after Elijah. The group reached Caleb's secret haven to find the crew already pushing around boxes and rearranging barrels to maximize the space. A third crew member pushed past them with an armful of blankets that she spread out on the wooden floor.
Elijah lifted a heavy barrel off the ground, pushing his biceps to their limit as he set it on top of a shoulder-high set of crates. He grabbed a nearby rope, wrapping it around the barrel to secure it. Lifting a leg, he braced himself against the crate so he could throw his weight back to tighten the knot. The rope pulled taught for a moment, then gave out from under him, sending him falling to the floor with the barrels and crates close behind. Elijah yelped, scrambling out of the way as the barrel smashed against the ground and the first crate split open, ejecting apples at frightening speeds at their ankles.
"Oh god," Elijah said, ignoring the apples and crawling over to the barrel. It cracked somewhere on impact, spilling something dark across the floor that smelled smoky and alcoholic.
"Elijah!" Whitney roared as she pounded down the stairs, jogging into view with patchwork pillows under each arm.
"Wasn't me!" he called back, slamming a hand against the flaw in the barrel in an attempt to stem the flow. "I guess we're having wine tonight," he joked as the deep red liquid spilled through his fingers.
"Elijah Cotton," Whitney said, tossing the pillows onto the makeshift pallets to point an accusing index finger at her brother. "If you did this on purpose I will string you up so fast—"
"Oh just take it out of my pay, Whit," Elijah said, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, I'm planning on it," she said with a grin. "You thank your lucky stars it was the spiced wine and not the Berduskan Dark or I'd have you working for free for years."
Elijah sighed, turning to the Mighty Nein, who watched the spectacle in silence. "Take some of my advice folks. Never go into business with family."
Whitney cackled and slapped him on the back. "See, now that's the first intelligent thing you've said in a long time. Now, I don't want my crew too distracted while we're still in the swamp, so I think I might just need you to keep your hand on that barrel until later tonight," she said and then spun on her heels and strode off.
"You're joking. Whitney, come back and tell me you're joking," Elijah shouted. He growled and hoisted the wine barrel on his shoulder with a grunt, keeping one hand pressed against the crack as the wine rained down on him, and plodded after her.
The last two crew members finished folding blankets to form Jester's makeshift bed, then moved to collect the apples scattered across the floor.
This allowed Yasha and Caleb the space to maneuver Molly through the last of the cargo maze. They set his scimitars aside and lowered him down onto his pallet.
Yasha helped situate Molly, so Caleb took a second to roll a couple loose apples towards the overturned crate. A flash of color caught his eye, giving him pause. He took a moment to study the bottom of the crate. The earlier crash displaced some sort of false bottom, revealing a sliver of something bright and colorful beneath that he couldn't quite make out.
Caleb filed that tidbit away for later. Maybe he would find something interesting to do on this trip after all.
The crew members finished repacking the apples, then left the Mighty Nein in peace, Yasha and Caleb still kneeling by Molly while Beau and Nott hovered behind.
"You should let Fjord know we've got a place for Jester now," Caleb said to them. Beau nodded and disappeared back into the depths of the cargo hold with Nott in tow.
"What hurts?" Yasha murmured to Molly, who laughed quietly in response.
"Nothing I haven't slept off before," he insisted. "I'm afraid my coat's in quite a state, though," he said, frown audible.
A pang of guilt knotted Caleb's gut as he saw the truth in the man's words. His fire scorched through bits of the fabric on shoulders and hood, leaving the larger areas around the holes burnt and blackened. Caleb was no expert on clothing, but he did know damage like that would compel most people to throw it out, or at least repurpose the garment as a rag.
"Ah, and it got Jester's shawl too," Molly said, pulling the peach fabric off his shoulders and unfolding it before him with a disappointed frown. Only small bits of it here or there remained the original color. With a sigh, he dropped the fabric, letting it float down to rest on his lap.
"It's not that bad," Yasha said, prodding at the holes in his jacket. "Maybe it's repairable?"
Molly shrugged off his coat, but it caught on his shoulders. Yasha leaned in, helping him pull it off his stiff arms. He dug his heels into the ground to help himself lean his torso forward, but he abandoned the action with a wince.
"Your ankle," Caleb said, as the thought struck him. "We might need to bandage it."
"Yup. Probably," Molly managed through clenched teeth as he waited for the wave of pain to pass.
Yasha wiggled his coat off the rest of the way, dropping the rainbow garment on top of his head. "Help me take off his boots, Caleb," she instructed, shifting around to reach Molly's far leg.
"Seriously now. I haven't been crippled. I can take off my own boots," Molly insisted, voice muffled as he pulled his coat off his head, but the last bit snagged on his horns.
Yasha ignored him and worked on the top of his laces. The leather ties ran down the sides of Molly's boots from mid-thigh to ankle in a complicated pattern Caleb hadn't seen before. He watched Yasha work at them for a moment before attempting to mirror her movements. Starting at Molly's thigh, he began to work slack into the laces, realizing that he'd been landed with Molly's bad leg, and would, therefore, need much looser laces to be able to slip the boot off without injuring the man.
He tugged at the cords, working the slack in inch by inch. Grommet by grommet. Knuckles brushing against the patterned pants beneath.
By the time he'd progressed to Molly's knees, Yasha tugged the other boot off.
"Have you ever considered buckles maybe?" Caleb asked, referencing his own boots that took a sixth of the time to don and doff.
Molly chuckled, pulling his coat free with one last tug. He flashed Caleb a toothy grin, disheveled hair falling in his face. "Not until now, honestly."
Caleb snorted, returning to his work.
Yasha shifted again to help Molly out of his vest with the puffed sleeves. Caleb heard her peeling back the dark fabric from his scorched skin, Molly sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth.
Caleb focused on the laces with all his mental acuity. Trying not to think about burning his friends. Trying not to think about burning people he cared about.
Once he worked enough slack into the length of the laces, he glanced up at Molly again to find the tiefling watching him with quiet interest. The realization of the wild intimacy of the moment backhanded him, and Caleb diverted his gaze, focusing on the corner of an inauspicious crate to the side.
"Ready?" Caleb asked the corner of the crate.
"Probably," Molly said, lifting his leg and tilting his toes to assist Caleb in his task.
Directing his attention back to Molly's leg, Caleb cupped a hand beneath his calf and used the other to pull at the toe of the boot. It gave way and Caleb shifted to gingerly working at Molly's heel.
What a bizarre timeline.
Molly inhaled sharply again as his heel slipped out of the boot's foot.
"Sorry," Caleb mumbled, and he pulled the rest of the boot off with ease. This exposed Molly's swollen ankle: puffy and flushed an angry fuchsia.
"Well, that's about what I expected," Molly said, lifting his leg to get a better view of his own ankle while Yasha tugged at the hem of his shirt. He swatted her away.
"You think it's broken?" Caleb asked
Molly set his leg down softly before turning his attention to Caleb and shrugging. "Maybe? Hurts something fierce. I can't really—oh! Just who we need," Molly grinned, gaze drifting over Caleb's shoulder.
Fjord stepped into the alcove, carrying Jester in his arms. She had her arms draped around his neck, head nestled in his shoulder with an expression that looked a bit too smug.
"Oh, Molly! Beau told me you got jumped," Jester said.
"Beau told the truth. I've had an unusually high number of strangers attacking me recently," Molly said with a laugh, but his fingers drummed on his thigh a bit too quickly.
"I've noticed," Fjord said. He knelt down on one knee and placed Jester on top of her pallet.
She didn't let go of his neck.
"Um, Jester?" Fjord prompted.
"Yes?" She asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes.
Fjord shot her a look.
Jester sighed, releasing her arms and flopping back on her pallet, hand draped over her forehead dramatically. "Okay, Fjord. Just leave me to die then."
Fjord rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the floor. Nott squeezed past his legs to kneel by Caleb and Yasha while Beau stood behind Fjord, pushing herself up on tiptoe to see.
"Geez, Molly, you look like shit," she said.
"Right back at you," Molly said. "You should've seen the other guy."
Caleb looked to him as he spoke. Sometime during Jester and Fjord's conversation, Yasha stripped him of his shirt, leaving him half-naked save for his garish pants and spattering of mismatched jewelry. He was a canvas of scars and tattoos, and it took Caleb a moment to find the fist-sized bruise blossoming black by the edge of his ribs amidst the sprawling chaos.
The bruise held Caleb's gaze for a moment before he was drawn to Molly's bare forearms that rested in his lap.
Fire had pulled the skin hard and taught, broken only by ripples of peeling skin that flashed the raw flesh beneath. Angry, inflamed patches of deep red stained his arms like lepers' spots.
Caleb swallowed hard, looking away. He inhaled deep through his nose, willing the jittery, rising panic back down. Mollymauk was fine. The burns couldn't be helped. He did what he had to do to save the man's life. Mollymauk was fine.
"That looks like it hurts, Molly," Jester said. "If you want I can try and heal you?"
Molly nodded. "Well it smarts for sure, so I'd appreciate anything you can do for me."
She bobbed her head, lifting her hands in a familiar configuration. She closed her eyes to chant, her face pinched up, and the entire room leaned backward. Her hand dove into her skirt, withdrawing her handkerchief just in time to bury another sneeze within. She blew her nose for a minute straight before letting it sink to her lap and looking to Molly with bleary eyes.
"I'm sorry Molly, I tried really hard that time," she said, eyebrows pressed in concern as she pleaded.
"Oh, it's fine," he said waving her off. He crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back on the curved wall behind him. "It just means we're going to have some time to enjoy each other's company."
Fjord sighed, lacing his hands together and placing them on the top of his head while he chewed on a thought. "I'm sure will pass more ports on the way there. Maybe we can actually find someone to help you guys out next time?" he suggested.
Mollymauk's smile fell as he glanced to Jester then back to Fjord. "I won't talk for her, but I'd rather just keep going to be honest. Especially after how our last shore excursion just went," he said.
Jester frowned at him. "Oh but Molly, your ankle."
He shrugged. "We're stuck on this ship for a week one way or another. Being trapped down here doesn't seem much different from being trapped up there. Besides, if I remember correctly, we're still running late."
"We are still behind two days," Caleb said.
Fjord ran his hands through his hair. "Okay, alright. Are you sure you're both okay with this?"
"If Molly's fine, then I am too," Jester said with a single, resolute nod.
"Do you need us to, like, get you anything? More pillows? Blankets?" Beau asked.
"You know," Molly said, letting a smile stretch his face. "Some of that spiced wine would be great."
…
Muffled shanties and the rhythmic pounding of dancing boots drifted down from the deck above, drowned out by the Mighty Nein's own laughter. Flickering candlelight bounced off their wine-flushed faces as Nott scooped herself another cup from the last dregs of the barrel.
Elijah managed to partially stipend the flow that afternoon, and even after the crew drank their fill they left half a barrel for the Mighty Nein to indulge in. The party sat in a half circle in the alcove, wine barrel in the middle with Nott still curled around it.
Mollymauk took a hearty swig from his metal mug before passing it along to Caleb, who mimicked the action, letting the alcohol spill over his tongue and down his throat. It was dry, bitter, sweet, and earthy all at once, and he could feel it burning a well-traveled path to his stomach. With a satisfied nod, he passed the mug to Beau. She knocked her head back, swallowing several times before throwing the empty cup to the ground with a loud clang.
"You guys saw that right?" she asked, words slurred with a drunken smile.
"Shhhh," Fjord hushed, but at about the same volume Beau had spoken. "You'll wake Jester," he said, nodding to the unconscious women, limbs spread akimbo on her pallet and snoring loudly behind them.
Caleb hummed in agreement. The spiced wine filled his brain with a pleasant warm static and tingled his fingers and toes. He wasn't half as drunk as he wanted or needed to be—by now Caleb knew how loose lipped alcohol made him—but he drank enough to take the weight of the day off.
"It's your turn, Beau," Molly prompted, watching her with a lazy smile. He leaned back against the wall, shirt on this time, with his coat bundled up and wedged behind him, mangled foot resting on a pillow.
"Shit," Beau mumbled, chewing on her thumb as her brow scrunched together. "Oh, I've got one," she said, slamming her fist down on her open palm. "When I was eight I almost died choking on a plum pit."
The group broke into snickers.
"Hey, seriously," Beau insisted, giving Fjord a little elbow. "I actually blacked out. Haven't eaten any of those damn fruit since."
"You're not supposed to eat the pits, you know?" Molly said with a wicked smile, tail flicking.
Beau gave him the finger. "Yeah, no shit, Molly."
Caleb chuckled and Molly shot him an appreciative glance.
Fjord reached for the mug Beau discarded, refilling it and taking a long drink himself before offering it to Yasha.
She took it in both hands, rubbing her thumbs along the worn metal, and staring at the dark contents.
"Come on, Yasha, just one," Beau asked, leaning forward and swaying a little.
"Some of us should stay sober," she pointed out, but a smile played on her lips anyways.
"Do it, do it, do it," Beau chanted, and Molly joined in. Caleb and Fjord settled for watching the muscular women with interest.
Yasha sighed, picked up the mug, and finished it off in one swallow while Beau cheered.
"Shhh!" Fjord said again, leaning over and bumping shoulders with her.
"I know, I know." Beau waved him off.
"Alright," said Yasha, straightening and sitting forward on her crate. "Um, I, uh, did my piercings myself," she said.
Molly hummed in approval.
"That's why my right ear has a lot more than my left," she said, tugging on her left earlobe. "I messed up so many times when I first started that I had to wait for my left ear to heal before I could put more in, and then…Well, I just haven't done it yet."
"You didn't tell me that story before you did my piercings," Molly said with an offended tone. Yasha met his gaze and his façade broke into a grin. "You should've told me I could've lost an ear to the process."
"I'll pierce your ears next, Molly. I'm an expert," Nott said graciously.
Beau swung her heavy arms around Caleb and Fjord, pulling them close. "Guys, guys, let's get matching piercings," she said, eyes wide with the genius of the idea.
"I vote tongue," Molly said, flicking his forked tongue at them.
"I'd do another ear piercing," Yasha said, looking up at the ceiling as she thought it over.
"I've got room for more there, and so do you, Nott," Molly said.
"It is prime real estate," Nott said sagely, tugging on her large ears.
"Fjord? Caleb?" Beau asked, head swiveling between the men she'd trapped beside her.
"I'm not sure—" Fjord started, then a hiccup broke him off. He paused for a moment then began to nod. "You know what? Sure. Why not? What the hell let's do this."
"Caleb?" Beau asked, and all eyes turned to him.
Caleb reflexively shrunk under the weight of their gaze. "Um, so we've had a lot of good discussion tonight. Maybe we save this one for tomorrow. When there's less wine involved."
"Laaaame," Beau said with a disappointed frown.
"Shhhhh," Fjord hissed.
Yasha tossed the cup to Nott, who refilled it, taking a long swig before passing it to Mollymauk.
"Well, hey now, that's not fair," Molly said, tilting the contents of the cup towards her so she could see and pointing at it with a clawed finger. "You've gone and made sure I'm next."
"I am a master strategist," Nott said with a toothy grin.
Molly finished off the cup before handing it back to Nott. "Alright," he started, and rubbed his hands together in thought. "Oh, tattoos!"
"We already know you have tattoos," Beau complained.
"But what you don't know," Molly continued, "Is that the next piece I want to get is another long snake," he leaned forward and gestured to the middle of his back, letting his thumb trail down down down. "That goes from my back piece and wraps all the way down my tail."
"I didn't know tails could be tattooed," Caleb said, glancing to Molly's still-flicking tail. He wondered if the ridges along the back would make things difficult.
Molly shrugged. "I don't see why not. I thought about looking for someone in Zadash, but it'd take a couple sessions. Plus time to heal. Maybe if we have more downtime after this debacle is done with," he said, gesturing to the ship itself. He handed the mug back to Nott, who pulled the same trick, but this time skipping Molly and offering it to Caleb.
With a sigh he took it. There was barely a spitful left. "Last one for me," he said, locking eyes with Nott and then knocking the drink back. He finished it off and tossed the mug back to her. His fingers taped together as he thought.
A fact none of the group knew about him, huh? He could fill volumes with what the Mighty Nein didn't know. Chiefly, that he was an enormously powerful time-traveling wizard from the future.
To his left Jester moaned, rolling over and disturbing the cat between her legs. Frumpkin meowed in dissatisfaction before resettling behind her knees.
"Frumpkin is based off a real cat," he said. There we go, that was something safe but interesting. "He's named after one I had growing up. Though that one was female."
Beau barked a laugh, opening her mouth but a series of loud sounds cut her off.
Boots stumbled down the stairs and the sound of the sloppy gait approached them. Elijah emerged from the dark, wine drunk and beaming.
"Evenin', y'all," he said then hiccupped. "I was wondering if any of you fine folks might be able to take a watch shift tonight. We're a little—" he hiccupped, "—incapacitated up top."
"I'll go," Yasha said, pushing herself off the crate.
Caleb raised his hand. "I can go after Yasha."
"Much obliged," Elijah said, swaying a little. The two of them vanished into the dark of the cargo hold, and Beau watched them leave.
"Alright, Nott, pour us another round," Beau said, at last directing her gaze at Nott.
Nott dipped the cup in, scraping the bottom of the barrel as she did.
"Maybe you should slow down," Molly said as Nott handed Beau another mug of wine. "You know you don't have to drink to share all your dark secrets with the rest of the team."
Beau huffed a laugh, taking another drink. "Easy for you to say. You've only got two years worth of secrets."
Molly opened his mouth to protest but then shut it. Instead he let his fingers drum on his thigh for a moment. "I suppose that's fair," he said to no one in particular.
"I mean honestly though—" Beau began.
"Shhhhh!" Fjord said.
"Give it a rest, Fjord," she said even louder, rolling her eyes. "She's out cold." Beau blinked as an idea hit her. She smirked, looking to the group. "You guys wanna try that thing where you put someone's hand in—"
"I think that's enough for the evening," Fjord said, grabbing hold of one of the ship's vertical supports and pulling himself upwards on unsteady legs.
"What are you talking about? The nights still young! Nott pour me another," she said, thrusting the already full mug at Nott. Wine sloshed over the side, soaking her hand and hitting the floor with a 'splat'. "Shit."
"Alrighty, bedtime for Beauregard," Fjord said, pulling her up by the upper arm.
"I feel great," she said, then lurched forward, pressing a hand to her mouth to stop the vomit.
"Don't you dare vomit below deck," Fjord said, taking a step towards the makeshift hallway.
"Mm-hm," Beau said, hand still pressed over her mouth. She left Fjord tow her away like a buoy towards the crew quarters, and they too vanished into the dark.
"She took the mug with her," Nott commented, staring into the blackness, a frown pulling at her lips that broke into a yawn.
"It's probably for the best," Caleb said.
A comfortable silence fell on the three of them. Nott, still curled around the barrel, rested her chin on the lid, staring off into space with heavy eyelids. Caleb sat between Molly and Jester's pallets with his thin legs crossed before him, wine heavy and warm in his belly, giving him that familiar buzz.
A glint of gold caught Caleb's eye, and he turned to see Molly shuffling his tarot cards. He flicked his fingers, letting singular cards roll through the gaps between them back and forth to rejoin the deck. With just the pads of his fingers, he cut the deck in thirds, rotating the center stack the collapsing them back into a pile before flipping them around again. Caleb could barely follow the movement of the cards, much less comprehend the skill and flexibility behind it. The flickering, rhythmic movements were equal parts mesmerizing and soothing.
"Are you going to do a reading?" Caleb asked.
Molly blinked, eyes focusing as he looked up to Caleb. His hands never stopped. "What?"
"The cards. Are you going to tell our fortunes?"
"Oh," Molly said, looking down at his cards in surprise as if they'd magically appeared in his hands. "No. Not tonight," he said at last. He forced himself to collapse the deck again and stared at them in his hands. With a sighed he stowed them, and leaned his head back, rubbing his eyes. "Alright, I want to try something. Don't freak out," he said, glancing at Caleb.
Caleb blinked and sat up straighter as his fuzzy thoughts tried to decipher that sentence. Mollymauk Tealeaf saying 'don't freak out' could mean anything.
Molly pulled one of his scimitars close, and before Caleb could get a word out, Molly sliced his own forearm. Blood pooled from the slice, staining the earlier bandages red, and bubbled out from the red eye tattooed on his neck.
"What the hell," Caleb hissed, pushing himself backward and out of Molly's reach.
Dark liquid pooled on Molly's face and neck, leaking from his nose and ears.
Caleb's eyes darted around the room, looking for something, anything he could do.
The liquid floated off his face, ignoring gravity to coalesce into a maroon orb. It hung, suspended for a moment, then dropped to the floor with a splash.
Molly chuckled then looked up to Caleb. "See, I told you not to freak out, but that very much looks like the face of a man freaking out."
Caleb swallowed hard, looking to Nott for support only to find her passed out and drooling into the wine barrel. "What was that?" he asked, slowly, trying to calm his racing heart.
Molly shrugged. "Hangover cure."
"Hangover cure," Caleb repeated, finally steadying his breathing. "So in your mind, it's better to be bleeding and sober than vice versa."
Molly leaned his head back against the wall, hands returning to beating a silent rhythm against his thigh as he stared at the ceiling. "The wine wasn't helping. Figured I might as well skip the hangover then."
Caleb nodded, but the blossoming red stain on Molly's bandages drew his attention. "But you've gone and ruined your bandages now."
Molly glanced down and tsk'ed in disappointment. He leaned over to grab the roll of fresh bandages out of Jester's pile of scattered possessions, then worked at unspooling his bleeding arm. The last layer clung to his mottled flesh, and Molly clenched his teeth as he unpeeled the last bit of bandage—stained with yellowing lymph.
Caleb grimaced and looked away.
"Sorry. It's pretty gross right now," Molly said.
Caleb's stomach churned as he looked back to him. "No, no. I've—I've dealt with my fair share of burns before."
Molly paused to look up at Caleb.
"It's—" Caleb started, but his throat tightened at the words died.
Mollymauk waited for Caleb to continue, but once it became clear he wouldn't, Molly spoke instead. "Caleb you aren't—you don't feel guilty about this, do you?" He cocked his head, brow slightly furrowed as he watched Caleb. "Because that's a pretty bullshit reaction to have."
Caleb chuckled coolly, sinking down so that his collar came up to his ears. "I feel guilty about a great many things," he muttered under his breath. The alcohol and guilt churning in his stomach turned sour.
"Caleb," Molly said.
Caleb stared at Nott. Any moment it seemed she'd lose her balance on the edge of the barrel and her head would drop into the drum.
"Caleb," Molly said, snapping and dragging Caleb's attention to him. He pointed an accusing finger at the center of Caleb's chest. "Don't you dare try and pin this on you. It's his—fuck," Molly broke off with a sneer directed at no one, running an agitated hand through his hair.
"What's wrong?" Caleb asked, guilt replaced by worry as he scanned Molly's wounds for the source of his reaction.
"Just—mm," Molly managed, biting down on the words as they tried to escape. He looked up at the ceiling, beating down on his thigh now with a closed fist and pressing the other hand to his face. "It's—just—fucking him, Caleb. Every time I turn my back there's someone there ready to knife it because—" he broke off, putting the palms of his hands over his eyes.
Ah.
"I," Caleb paused, gathering his words. "That seems like a reasonable thing to be upset about," he said lamely.
Mollymauk laughed, voice pitching higher and strained. "I just thought…" he sighed, covering his mouth.
"What did you think?" Caleb prompted quietly.
"I thought this would work," Mollymauk murmured, eyes unfocused as he played with his hands in his lap. "With the circus, two years and not a peep, but now. Three times, Caleb. Three times in like two months. It's ludicrous. I can't—ugh," he broke off into another sigh. "I can't—I can't justify..."
The sentiment almost surprised a laugh out of Caleb. Mollymauk wanted to leave the group now? What a backward timeline indeed. "We, all of us, have baggage, Mollymauk," Caleb said.
"Okay, sure yeah, but my baggage—his baggage has tried to kill us. Twice now," he said with a frantic, mirthless smile. His fingers grew clumsy as his hands trembled. He wrapped the new bandages around his palm, trying to lace them around his fingers, but the bandages were too loose and left uneven bulges of fabric that decreased his mobility further. His shaking hands dropped the wad of bandages, and it rolled across the floor, unspooling itself in a white line, before knocking against Caleb's leg.
Caleb sighed, picked it up, and crawled back over, placing himself on the edge of Molly's pallet, putting his knees a hair breath away from his thighs. The tiefling froze, watching him with unblinking red eyes. His tail stilled.
"You're not going to be able to do much if you wrap it like that," Caleb said. He offered his open hands.
"Um, yeah sure okay," Molly mumbled, lowering his injured hand to Caleb's palm.
"It's not true you know," Caleb said softly, taking Molly's hand in his own. He received skin-to-skin contact so infrequently that it always sent an electric shock through him. He tried to ignore it and focus on undoing Molly's attempt at wrapping. Callouses dotted his hands along the insides of his fingers and his scorched flesh radiated heat onto Caleb's open palm.
Molly blinked away a thought to focus on Caleb's words, providing a delayed, "What's not true?"
He'd left several of his gaudy rings on and now, in consequence, his fingers were beginning to swell around them.
Caleb frowned, taking the first ring and slowly twisting it, trying to get it over Molly's knuckle. "That you're the only one with dangerous baggage," he said.
Molly began to breathe again. "Okay, but no one else's has—"
"Do you remember the Victory Pit?" Caleb asked. The ring gave way, and Caleb pulled it off Molly's finger with a feather-light touch before moving to the next one.
Molly cocked his head. "Sure." His voice dropped back to its normal range. Good. That was good.
Caleb took a deep breath before continuing. "There was…a man there." The next ring came off. "A man who I knew many years ago. If he had recognized me, we could've all be thrown in jail. Or executed maybe. At the very least I would've been," he said. The words tasted sour in his mouth, cutting through the thick taste of the spiced wine.
Molly watched Caleb take off his final ring in silence before answering. "Okay, I understand…but he didn't recognize you, Caleb. While people-people still think I'm him. It's happened to me three times now. And two out of three have been dangerous."
"Mmm," Caleb hummed in acknowledgment. Taking the end of the fresh bandage, he wrapped a loop around Molly's wrist. "Hold this," he said, and Molly dutifully pressed a finger down to hold it in place.
"I, I just, what we have, the Mighty Nein, is so good, you know, and I hate that I'm—he's the one…" Molly broke off with a frustrated growl.
Caleb looped the bandage around Molly's thumb. "You feel like you're putting the group in danger," he said, almost whispering.
Mollymauk didn't answer.
Caleb brought the wrapping back across the back of his hand, then forward again to spool it around his index finger. "You know, the night before we fought the Iron Shepherds, I almost ran."
"What?"
"Yeah. I told myself it was because I didn't want to make trouble for the rest of the group, but…I think I was just scared. And I'm not saying you are," Caleb clarified quickly, refusing to meet Molly's eyes. "We're nothing alike. Your reasons sound nobler than mine, but I do know we're better off together. Stronger. Happier. As a group."
"Nothing alike," Molly repeated with a huff of laughter that had an odd edge to it Caleb couldn't place.
He frowned. It was the truth after all. Molly was hedonistic, aimless, overwhelming, and reckless to a fatal degree. But he was courageous too. And selfless. He died for someone he met a month earlier for god's sake. He was a good man with this vibrant zeal for life that was foreign to Caleb. Always looking forward, never back. What an alien concept.
Something rotten and cynical inside of Caleb wondered if the only reason Molly could hold on to the ideology was because he didn't remember his past. Could he still spout optimistic platitudes over drinks if he knew the truth? About the cults and blood magic and whatever unholy endeavors Lucien undertook?
Would his ideology even hold if he knew about what Caleb had done? He imagined telling him. All the wretched, gory details. He'd probably react like Nott and Beau. Wide-eyed and slacked jawed with worried looks exchanged when they thought he wasn't looking.
He could…he could find out. This timeline wasn't real. Everything here was fleeting. Impermanent. Like words in the sand at low tide.
Filled with alcohol and morbid, detached curiosity, Caleb twisted and looked to Jester. He let a one-word incantation drip off his lips.
Jester groaned in her sleep, and twisted again, putting her back to them.
"What was that?" Molly asked, straightening.
"Deafness."
"Deafness," Molly repeated. "Um, okay, interesting call."
"Will you…listen to a story, Mollymauk Tealeaf?" Caleb asked, returning to his work bandaging Molly's hand.
"I—usually like stories. Sure," Molly said. He looked Caleb over with mild confusion but didn't withdraw his hand.
Caleb took a deep breath, focusing on the bandages and not the weight of what he was about to say. "This…this is the story of how I murdered my mother and father."
Mollymauk froze, eyes wide. He took a moment to blink away the shock and watched Caleb's hand circle around his own. "Caleb," he said softly, "you know I, of all people, don't give a shit who you used to be. You don't need to—"
"I know." Caleb didn't look up. He finished wrapping Molly's pinky, "Will you listen anyway?"
"I—yeah. Yeah."
So Caleb, kneeling before Molly in the middle of a darkened ship, with head bowed and holding his hands in his, began his story.
The words flowed easier now than they had with Beau and Nott. He still stumbled over them, having to backtrack and set the order of events straight. He finished bandaging Molly's arm then moved on to the other. It didn't need to be changed so soon, but Caleb needed something to focus on, to keep his hands occupied, so Molly let him without protest.
He stayed quiet during Caleb's story. No comments or intrusive questions like Beau. No gasps or coos of sympathy like Nott. Just a slight nod or shake of the head now and then.
When it became clear Caleb would finish bandaging Molly's other arm before the end of the story, he slowed down. Winding and unwinding the cotton strip around Molly's forearm under the pretense of perfecting it. At last, he detailed the final leg of his story. Caleb bent down close to Molly's arm, tucking the end of the wrap away. He mentioned the false memories.
Molly let out a huff of hot air in surprise that tickled the hair on the back of his neck.
"And then I was on my own for a time. Then I met Nott. Then you. Now I'm here," Caleb concluded. He held on to Molly's arm for a moment, too nervous to meet his gaze, before he realized he no reason to be holding the limb anymore. Awkwardly, he dropped his hand and scooted backward. The sudden absence of Molly's body heat sent chills down his back and shoulders. He reached for his chest, trying to curl his fingers around the cool metal talisman to center himself, but it was on the neck of the person sitting across from him.
"Are you alright?" Molly asked.
Caleb laughed, shaking his head and letting his dirty hair flop into his eyes. "Hardly."
"No—not, not about what we just talked about. Like physically. You keep grabbing at your chest and I just want to make sure you're not having a stroke on me," Molly said.
Caleb risked a glance up through his tangled hair to find Molly watching him with concern.
"Not a stroke," Caleb said quickly. "I, um, an old friend, a previous traveling companion, gave me a necklace that I wore for a long time. But I lost it. In Shady Creek."
"Good friend?" Molly asked.
Caleb smiled to himself. "Yeah."
A silence fell between them that was equal parts comfortable and uneasy. Like a favorite song played by a different singer. Caleb pulled his knees up, resting his arms on them and staring at the wood grain of the floor, while Molly leaned back watching the ceiling.
"You realize this doesn't change my opinion of you, right Caleb?" Molly said at last.
"It should."
"It doesn't."
"Mm."
"Caleb, Caleb look at me," Molly insisted.
After a moment of hesitation, Caleb glanced upwards to meet his gaze.
"I've only known you for a month or so," Molly began slowly, "but I can tell you now you're not that person anymore."
Caleb clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he ran his hands through his hair. "Doesn't matter. My actions, the consequences, remain."
Then it was Molly's turn to frown. He stared at his hands, looking at the bandages while chewing that last sentiment around in my mouth as if it were rotten. "All we can do is move forward," he said at last, barely audible.
Caleb laughed at that. Actually laughed. Rough and raw from a night of drinking and tension. Most people could only move forward. Caleb wasn't most people.
Molly looked up, startled and confused by Caleb's laughter before his expression soured further.
"Well," Caleb said, pushing himself off the ground. "I think that's it for me tonight. Goodnight, Mollymauk."
Molly just stared frowning at his hands.
Caleb stuck a hand into his pocket, feeling out his transmuter's stone and directing a spark of magic into it. The shadows receded around him, and he could see enough now to navigate his way back to the crew's quarters. He stepped towards the exit, running a hand along the crates lining the way.
He should've guessed Mollymauk's reaction. It made sense.
Something cold and sick coiled around Caleb's guts as he realized he wanted the man to react poorly instead. For someone else to finally realize how wretched and repulsive he truly was. To receive that twisted validation he craved as a husk of a human being.
"Caleb," called a voice.
He paused in the hall, twisting back to see Molly watching him.
"Thank you. For this," he said, raising his bandaged hands.
"Yeah, yeah, anytime," Caleb mumbled before shambling into the dark.
Molly pressed his head back against the wood, closing his eyes with a frustrated sigh.
Wrapped around the barrel, Nott cracked open an eyelid, watching the space where Caleb had vanished long after he was gone.
…
Caduceus, in his graveyard outside of Shady Creek Run, bags packed with a suitcase in either hand, waiting in front of his door: Alright. They'll come anytime now. I'm sure of it. Anytime now.
Commenters are the stars in my sky, the air in my lungs, the Jester in my live stream canonically confirming Molly has the best dick she's ever seen.