He opens his eyes, as the door opens, watches as once more Caleb’s form stands in the bright light. He doesn’t even have to hide hope in his eyes, this time, he just watches forward with a silent, steady glare.
Caleb rushes over to him, pauses, then makes the trek with a slow consideration, eyes peeled around the room for magical traps. He has a look of worry across his face, of desperation and exhaustion, and he seems battle scarred.
Essek doesn’t want this to be another trick, another trap, but he’s not ready to think that it isn’t, and let even more of himself be crushed.
Caleb’s hands are fumbling to remove the gag, and that’s a trap, trying to convince him not to cast teleport as soon as his mouth is free to speak, giving the slightest opportunity to escape and not allowing it to him, and he will not let this pass by.
“Caleb! You found Essek!” Jester Lavorre says, running into the room. “Essek, ohmygosh, we were so worried! I tried sending messages to you but none of them were being answered and was that because you weren’t hearing them or because you couldn’t respond or-”
The spell dies before it can even reach his lips, the gag comes free, and he can’t help but laugh.
If Ikithon has found a way to replicate the energy of Jester Lavorre, then there will never be any way for him to distinguish between reality and illusion.
“Essek,” Caleb says, solemnly. “I am so sorry. You should not have been caught up in this. In any of this.”
“That was fast,” Essek said, casting prestidigitation in an attempt to clean himself up instead. “Ikithon seemed certain that you would be distracted by the replacement for longer.”
“Well, we’re kind of really fucking good at our jobs,” Beau says, from the doorway. “Nott! We’ve got locks to pick!”
“Do you need healing?” Jester asks. “Because I still have spell slots - and Caduceus - we could-”
“I am fine, Jester,” Essek says. “I would like to get out of these chains, however. And I would very much like you to tell me that the man is dead.”
Nott has scrambled over, lockpicks in hand, to free his ankles from where they’re trapped to the floor.
“Eodwulf, the scourger sent in your disguise, is currently being held by the Cobalt Soul,” Caleb says. “Ikithon is-”
“Ash?” Beauregard suggests.
“Ash,” Caleb confirms.
“I’d hoped to be able to watch that,” Essek says. “Or participate.”
“I am sorry. We will have to find a way to make it up to you,” Caleb says. Nott unlocks the cuffs attaching his wrists to the metal collar, and Caleb offers a hand, pulling Essek to his feet.
Essek doesn’t flinch at the touch. He very deliberately forces himself to not flinch at the touch, to meet Caleb in the eyes.
“We can talk about that later,” Essek says, letting his hands fall to the side. “Are there any more people left to fight?” he asks.
“There’s a handful,” Fjord says. “But we’ve got the Cobalt Soul here helping us out.”
“Do you need me?” Essek asks.
“We should be good,” Beau says. “The Cobalt Soul’s operation is running through me, and they don’t really need to know about this.” She looks over at Caleb. “Do you want to-”
“I think I will keep watch over Essek,” Caleb says. “I do not want to be in this place.”
“Yeah, you should really go keep watch over him,” Jester says, wiggling her eyebrows. “And I still have a slot for sending if we really need you to come back.”
Essek looks over to Caleb, and casts Teleport, sending the both of them back to his house.
“I imagine you want to talk,” Caleb says, as they land in Essek’s chambers. He steps aside, giving Essek some room, and he can’t help but wonder whether there is some tell that he has missed, if Ikithon gave some hint, before his death, or Caleb just knows what would have been attempted, what would have been done.
“How long did it take you to find me?” Essek asks. “A day? Less than that, I think.”
“You were gone for nineteen hours,” Caleb says. “And it is my fault that you were gone at all.”
“It isn’t,” Essek says. “I wasn’t as on guard as I should have been, knowing that he was nearby, during the celebrations. Given his goals, it would have been a wise move to kidnap me regardless.”
“What he did to you wasn’t to get information,” Caleb says.
“No,” Essek says. “But I consider that to be his fault, not yours.”
Caleb frowns. “Do you - do you need -” he looks around, which is such a classic anxious tic of his. “From how you - I know that he used my face, for some of it. Do you need space?”
Essek leans forward, and kisses him.
It hasn’t even been a day, but it feels like a miniature eternity, and he missed kissing Caleb. He missed Caleb, missed this, this feeling that maybe, perhaps, he might start to have a personal life he so thoroughly enjoyed.
“I think I’ll have some residual associations to erase over the next few days,” Essek says, “but Trent Ikithon isn’t nearly so skilled, or I so weak, that he’d manage to do anything but irritate me in a single day.”
Caleb stares at Essek, and he looks like he’s about to collapse onto the ground. He doesn’t know, exactly, what Caleb’s been through in this time, what weight has been pulled off his shoulders, but he imagines it isn’t quite so dissimilar to what’s been lifted off of his.
“I think,” Essek says, “I am going to take a very long, warm bath, and then curl up in bed with a good book. Want to join me?”
Fill: Caleb/Essek, Essek/Ikithon, hostage, torture, non/con - 2/2
Caleb rushes over to him, pauses, then makes the trek with a slow consideration, eyes peeled around the room for magical traps. He has a look of worry across his face, of desperation and exhaustion, and he seems battle scarred.
Essek doesn’t want this to be another trick, another trap, but he’s not ready to think that it isn’t, and let even more of himself be crushed.
Caleb’s hands are fumbling to remove the gag, and that’s a trap, trying to convince him not to cast teleport as soon as his mouth is free to speak, giving the slightest opportunity to escape and not allowing it to him, and he will not let this pass by.
“Caleb! You found Essek!” Jester Lavorre says, running into the room. “Essek, ohmygosh, we were so worried! I tried sending messages to you but none of them were being answered and was that because you weren’t hearing them or because you couldn’t respond or-”
The spell dies before it can even reach his lips, the gag comes free, and he can’t help but laugh.
If Ikithon has found a way to replicate the energy of Jester Lavorre, then there will never be any way for him to distinguish between reality and illusion.
“Essek,” Caleb says, solemnly. “I am so sorry. You should not have been caught up in this. In any of this.”
“That was fast,” Essek said, casting prestidigitation in an attempt to clean himself up instead. “Ikithon seemed certain that you would be distracted by the replacement for longer.”
“Well, we’re kind of really fucking good at our jobs,” Beau says, from the doorway. “Nott! We’ve got locks to pick!”
“Do you need healing?” Jester asks. “Because I still have spell slots - and Caduceus - we could-”
“I am fine, Jester,” Essek says. “I would like to get out of these chains, however. And I would very much like you to tell me that the man is dead.”
Nott has scrambled over, lockpicks in hand, to free his ankles from where they’re trapped to the floor.
“Eodwulf, the scourger sent in your disguise, is currently being held by the Cobalt Soul,” Caleb says. “Ikithon is-”
“Ash?” Beauregard suggests.
“Ash,” Caleb confirms.
“I’d hoped to be able to watch that,” Essek says. “Or participate.”
“I am sorry. We will have to find a way to make it up to you,” Caleb says. Nott unlocks the cuffs attaching his wrists to the metal collar, and Caleb offers a hand, pulling Essek to his feet.
Essek doesn’t flinch at the touch. He very deliberately forces himself to not flinch at the touch, to meet Caleb in the eyes.
“We can talk about that later,” Essek says, letting his hands fall to the side. “Are there any more people left to fight?” he asks.
“There’s a handful,” Fjord says. “But we’ve got the Cobalt Soul here helping us out.”
“Do you need me?” Essek asks.
“We should be good,” Beau says. “The Cobalt Soul’s operation is running through me, and they don’t really need to know about this.” She looks over at Caleb. “Do you want to-”
“I think I will keep watch over Essek,” Caleb says. “I do not want to be in this place.”
“Yeah, you should really go keep watch over him,” Jester says, wiggling her eyebrows. “And I still have a slot for sending if we really need you to come back.”
Essek looks over to Caleb, and casts Teleport, sending the both of them back to his house.
“I imagine you want to talk,” Caleb says, as they land in Essek’s chambers. He steps aside, giving Essek some room, and he can’t help but wonder whether there is some tell that he has missed, if Ikithon gave some hint, before his death, or Caleb just knows what would have been attempted, what would have been done.
“How long did it take you to find me?” Essek asks. “A day? Less than that, I think.”
“You were gone for nineteen hours,” Caleb says. “And it is my fault that you were gone at all.”
“It isn’t,” Essek says. “I wasn’t as on guard as I should have been, knowing that he was nearby, during the celebrations. Given his goals, it would have been a wise move to kidnap me regardless.”
“What he did to you wasn’t to get information,” Caleb says.
“No,” Essek says. “But I consider that to be his fault, not yours.”
Caleb frowns. “Do you - do you need -” he looks around, which is such a classic anxious tic of his. “From how you - I know that he used my face, for some of it. Do you need space?”
Essek leans forward, and kisses him.
It hasn’t even been a day, but it feels like a miniature eternity, and he missed kissing Caleb. He missed Caleb, missed this, this feeling that maybe, perhaps, he might start to have a personal life he so thoroughly enjoyed.
“I think I’ll have some residual associations to erase over the next few days,” Essek says, “but Trent Ikithon isn’t nearly so skilled, or I so weak, that he’d manage to do anything but irritate me in a single day.”
Caleb stares at Essek, and he looks like he’s about to collapse onto the ground. He doesn’t know, exactly, what Caleb’s been through in this time, what weight has been pulled off his shoulders, but he imagines it isn’t quite so dissimilar to what’s been lifted off of his.
“I think,” Essek says, “I am going to take a very long, warm bath, and then curl up in bed with a good book. Want to join me?”
“Ja,” Caleb tells him. “That sounds nice.”