As he slowly came back to himself, the first thing he knew was the sound of Caleb crying softly, mumbling to himself in a fast, broken stream of Zemnian.
The second thing he realized was that Caleb was trying not to be heard, which was even worse. There was a part of Molly that wanted to go to him, talk to him, comfort him, but his limbs still felt like lead and even breathing hurt. So he just stayed in the corner with the wall at his back.
After what might have been minutes or hours of drifting, movement out of the corner of his eye made him startle. Molly’s gaze snapped round and then his brow furrowed in bewilderment because…because there was his coat, floating closer to him through the air. As he watched, it draped itself over his front, smoothing itself fussily, and he felt a phantom pressure against his shoulders for just a moment – pat, pat.
His shirt, his pants, his smallclothes all came drifting over next, and were set down carefully and neatly around him. Molly finally managed to make himself uncurl enough to contemplate getting dressed again, emboldened and soothed by the coat’s familiar smells. But just as he was finished pulling his pants on, he saw Caleb’s coat drifting over to him next, and now that he was a little ways out of the corner the strange, invisible force draped it over his back, instead, and then – pat, pat.
By then, even he could realize what was going on. Thanks, Schmidt, Molly wanted to say, but words were still…hard right now. Had he been sitting here for ten minutes? Or had Caleb cast this particular spell right away for perhaps the first time since Molly had known him?
He got his shirt on, shrugged into his coat and then, after a moment’s deliberation, drew Caleb’s coat back over his front, enjoying the texture and the weight born of countless spell components in countless pockets. As he did so, Schmidt filled a cup from the water basin and brought it over to him, waited patiently as Molly downed it, then brought him another one. It hurt to swallow, but the water eased the pain a little.
“Mollymauk,” Caleb said. Molly flinched and hated himself for it. Thankfully, Caleb didn’t seem to have noticed. He’d gotten to his feet, gotten dressed, and still had his back to Molly. But that wasn’t enough to disguise the fact that his voice still sounded watery and weak. “I, I am going to get Jester. Or Caduceus. S-Someone should see to your throat.” No mention of the scratches on his face.
“No,” Molly said, before Caleb had taken a step. It took him a second to understand why the very idea terrified him, and then he realized that all it would take was one look at the two of them and Caduceus would probably know and Jester would definitely know and he absolutely could not deal with that right now. And yet, he’d recovered just enough of his wits to know that his impulse to hide what had happened was not one that should be indulged. So after a moment, he managed to force out an addendum: “Yasha.” And then: “Please.” She couldn’t do much in the way of healing, but hopefully it wouldn’t take much.
He saw Caleb nod, short and jerky, and then start towards the door again. “Wait,” Molly said, and Caleb waited, his hand frozen halfway to the doorknob. Molly opened his mouth, closed it, gritted his teeth. Then he swallowed, swallowed again, and managed to say: “We should talk. About…that.”
Caleb laughed, little more than a hysterical giggle, no humor in it. “Ja,” he said. “I, ah, all right, I mean, you’re right, we…we should.”
He finally turned away from the door, but kept his eyes on his feet as if there was a physical weight pressing his head down. Caleb all but dragged himself step by step back towards the bed, and then he settled down on his knees on one side of it, his head resting on one bandaged arm, his other hand picking at a stray thread in the sheets. It was easier to make himself move, with the promise of that barrier between them. Molly moved himself over to kneel on the other side of the bed, moved to mimic Caleb’s posture. Like this, neither of them were looking at one another but they were facing each other. There was a barrier between them, safe and sturdy but not blocking. Equal.
Like this, they were equal. Even if the expanse of the mattress suddenly seemed far more…weighty and significant to Molly than it ever had before.
Ask Me No Questions, I'll Tell You No Lies (6/9)
The second thing he realized was that Caleb was trying not to be heard, which was even worse. There was a part of Molly that wanted to go to him, talk to him, comfort him, but his limbs still felt like lead and even breathing hurt. So he just stayed in the corner with the wall at his back.
After what might have been minutes or hours of drifting, movement out of the corner of his eye made him startle. Molly’s gaze snapped round and then his brow furrowed in bewilderment because…because there was his coat, floating closer to him through the air. As he watched, it draped itself over his front, smoothing itself fussily, and he felt a phantom pressure against his shoulders for just a moment – pat, pat.
His shirt, his pants, his smallclothes all came drifting over next, and were set down carefully and neatly around him. Molly finally managed to make himself uncurl enough to contemplate getting dressed again, emboldened and soothed by the coat’s familiar smells. But just as he was finished pulling his pants on, he saw Caleb’s coat drifting over to him next, and now that he was a little ways out of the corner the strange, invisible force draped it over his back, instead, and then – pat, pat.
By then, even he could realize what was going on. Thanks, Schmidt, Molly wanted to say, but words were still…hard right now. Had he been sitting here for ten minutes? Or had Caleb cast this particular spell right away for perhaps the first time since Molly had known him?
He got his shirt on, shrugged into his coat and then, after a moment’s deliberation, drew Caleb’s coat back over his front, enjoying the texture and the weight born of countless spell components in countless pockets. As he did so, Schmidt filled a cup from the water basin and brought it over to him, waited patiently as Molly downed it, then brought him another one. It hurt to swallow, but the water eased the pain a little.
“Mollymauk,” Caleb said. Molly flinched and hated himself for it. Thankfully, Caleb didn’t seem to have noticed. He’d gotten to his feet, gotten dressed, and still had his back to Molly. But that wasn’t enough to disguise the fact that his voice still sounded watery and weak. “I, I am going to get Jester. Or Caduceus. S-Someone should see to your throat.” No mention of the scratches on his face.
“No,” Molly said, before Caleb had taken a step. It took him a second to understand why the very idea terrified him, and then he realized that all it would take was one look at the two of them and Caduceus would probably know and Jester would definitely know and he absolutely could not deal with that right now. And yet, he’d recovered just enough of his wits to know that his impulse to hide what had happened was not one that should be indulged. So after a moment, he managed to force out an addendum: “Yasha.” And then: “Please.” She couldn’t do much in the way of healing, but hopefully it wouldn’t take much.
He saw Caleb nod, short and jerky, and then start towards the door again. “Wait,” Molly said, and Caleb waited, his hand frozen halfway to the doorknob. Molly opened his mouth, closed it, gritted his teeth. Then he swallowed, swallowed again, and managed to say: “We should talk. About…that.”
Caleb laughed, little more than a hysterical giggle, no humor in it. “Ja,” he said. “I, ah, all right, I mean, you’re right, we…we should.”
He finally turned away from the door, but kept his eyes on his feet as if there was a physical weight pressing his head down. Caleb all but dragged himself step by step back towards the bed, and then he settled down on his knees on one side of it, his head resting on one bandaged arm, his other hand picking at a stray thread in the sheets. It was easier to make himself move, with the promise of that barrier between them. Molly moved himself over to kneel on the other side of the bed, moved to mimic Caleb’s posture. Like this, neither of them were looking at one another but they were facing each other. There was a barrier between them, safe and sturdy but not blocking. Equal.
Like this, they were equal. Even if the expanse of the mattress suddenly seemed far more…weighty and significant to Molly than it ever had before.