43 for Clayleb, mostly cuz...I have no idea how to write that
Caduceus has never heard Caleb this angry before. Sad, defeated, afraid, guilty, frustrated - he could go on listing negative emotions for a while if he wanted to - but not this angry and not this loud about it. Maybe heāll just continue making dinner until it inevitably blows over.
āStupid, stupidā¦ how could youā¦ā Calebās voice from the next room gets a little quieter, shifting into something long and complex thatās probably Zemnian because Caduceus doesnāt understand it. Thereās a dark, vicious bile in the sound of it thatās not ok, especially if heās talking to one of their friends, which he must be, because Caduceus didnāt hear anyone else come in.
He sets aside his spoon, checks the heat under the vegetable stew, wipes his hands carefully on a nearby cloth, and goes to find out whatās going on, picking up his staff from where he leaned it against the wall earlier. Heās sure he wonāt need it, but just in case.
The door to Calebās room is ajar but itās polite to knock, so Caduceus does.
Thereās a silence, and a brief scuffling, which probably means itās ok to go in, so Caduceus does that too.
The first thing he notices is that Caleb is the only one in the room. The second thing he notices is the halo of crumpled papers, ink spatters, and half-used spell ingredients. Caleb, seated in the centre of this general destruction, seems perhaps a little shame-faced.
āOk,ā Caduceus says, the word drawing itself out nice and slow. āWere you talking to yourself?ā Thereās nothing wrong with talking to yourself, of course, if youāre so inclined, but Caduceus really hadnāt liked that tone.
Another silence, and then Caleb wipes his forehead with his hand and takes a shaky breath. āJa,ā he says, not meeting Caduceusās eyes.
āOk,ā Caduceus says again. He puts his hand on Calebās shoulder, the way heās seen Beauregard do, and Caleb doesnāt flinch. āIām going to make you some tea, and then youāre going to help me make dinner for everyone.ā
Caleb nods, tears his gaze from the floor with visible effort, and reaches out a hand to Caduceus, letting himself be pulled to his feet. He seems to weigh less than a good bag of flour.
āThank you, Mr Clay,ā he says, his voice a little steadier than it was. āYou are very kind.ā
Caduceus doesnāt know about that, and he doesnāt know about Caleb, really, not very much at all. Perhaps today is the day to find out.
send me a pairing and a number and iāll write you a drabble
