#pre-campaign

Occtis is laying on a table. No, not a table. There’s stone at his back, and stone walls above him, the faintest hint of dark glass windows visible out of the corner of his eye, hundreds of candles reflecting against the panes like burning stars. He knows where he is. He shouldn’t be here. He moves to sit up, knowing somehow that they’ll be magic binding his legs and wrists, that it will burn him if he moves, but still he struggles. He does not scream. He knows what’ll happen if he screams.

A face looms over him, pale as the moon, eyes black pits in sunken sockets. Under that gaze, Occtis feels small. No. Occtis is small. A child. He’s a child and he should be in bed. Why is he here? He’s not supposed to be here.

“There’s something wrong with the boy.” The voice of the man above him is a sepulcher door being pushed closed.

“I know.” Occtis hears his father’s voice reply. He cannot see his father, but he doesn’t have to see him to know that he’s disappointed with him. It’s how he always sounds, on those rare occasions when Occtis is spoken to. “He has too delicate of a constitution for sorcery.”

“He may still be useful,” the pale face intones. “Open him up.”

The knife his father wields has a handle made of bone and a blade made of glass and it shines in the candlelight as it plunges down—

“Occtis!”

Someone is screaming in the darkness. It can’t be him, he can’t be screaming, he knows what happens to boys that scream.

“Occtis, what’s wrong?”

There are hands on his shoulders and he sits up, scrambling backwards until his back hits something. Not stone, but not solid wood either, something that has give to it, that rustles. He doesn’t hear screaming anymore. Now someone is crying. No, not someone. Him. He’s crying. He claps his hands over his mouth to try and stop the wracking sobs. He knows what happens to boys that cry.

Light blooms in the form of a flower, a gentle golden glow that spreads to illuminate the darkness, to shine upon a face that’s not the pale, cold hard moon, but as green as the vines that make up their shelter, a face with silver eyes as gentle as starlight in summer. Thaisha. It’s Thaisha, and her expression is not one of disappointment or annoyance or disgust. It’s concern. Worry. She’s worried about him.

Occtis takes his hands away from his mouth and tries to stop sobbing, but his breath is coming too hard, too fast. No, he has to be wrong. She can’t be worried about him, she barely knows him. They’ve only been traveling together for two months. Any minute now that expression will turn into something harder.

“I’m— sorry,” Occtis manages to gasp out. He’s hyperventilating, taking in too much oxygen. He needs to slow his breathing down but it’s so hard when his heart is racing, panic making it beat so hard that it feels like a bird trapped in his chest. “I’m—”

“It’s all right,” Thaisha says and reaches out to him, pulling him close to her when he doesn’t resist. Instinctively, Occtis tucks his face against her neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and campfire smoke as he closes his eyes. She’s as warm and soft as a quilt, but there’s a strength underneath her skin that makes him think of ancient trees, the ones so old that they’re nearly stone. “Just breathe with me.”

Occtis struggles to imitate her slow, deep breaths, the part of his mind that’s always observing the world around him at a distance making note of the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he can’t remember anyone ever holding him like this. The feeling is so foreign that he almost pulls away, even as he feels himself relaxing into her.

“You’re all right,” Thaisha croons softly. “You’re awake. Whatever you were dreaming about can’t hurt you.”

After what feels like a small eternity, (time dilation is a common response to stress) he feels his panicked breathing ease, his heartbeat slowing down to match hers.

“Sorry,” he mutters into her neck. He should move before she becomes irritated with him. But her arms are still around him, and the sudden rush of adrenaline has faded, leaving him weak with exhaustion. He can’t even find it in him to open his eyes.

“Shhhh.” One of her hands rubs his back in small, soothing circles. “You just go back to sleep. I’ve got you.”

Vax let out a sigh and reached for their small healer's kit. Vex braced herself for the first pinch of the needle, trying to focus on anything but the pinch-pull of the sutures. Trinket dropped down next to her, nudging her face with his nose, and she reached out to scratch him under the chin.

“Trinket knows you're being ridiculous, too,” Vax commented. “I don't know why you're making me do this. Your stitchwork was always better than mine.”

“That's a lie and you know it,” Vex shot back over her shoulder. “You used to mend my clothes back in Syngorn so the maids wouldn't tell Father I was acting out.”

“That was a different time.” He snipped off one thread and moved on to the next slash. “This one's even longer.”

Vex took a deep breath and nodded. It had hurt when the dire wolf had torn her quiver away, tearing her back open in the process, but she always hated this part. Vax was as gentle as he could be, and his sharp eyes and steady hands meant the sutures were small and even, which would minimize scarring. It still hurt, and she turned her face toward Trinket to rest her forehead against one of his paws. He gave a mournful chuff and licked her ear.

“Let me get the potion,” Vax pleaded.

“I'm fine!” She sucked in a breath, held it for a few seconds, and tried to blow the pain out with it. Just like aiming an arrow on a windy day. She just needed focus and control. “I'm fine,” she repeated, softer this time.

“Stubby....”

“Please, Vax.” Dammit, she was not going to break over this! “Just get it over with.”

For a few long seconds he didn't move, and Trinket shuffled in even closer to shove his muzzle under her head so that she was resting her cheek on his broad nose. Then the pinch-pull of another suture, and another, and another.

“Just one more,” Vax finally said. Gods, he sounded even worse than she felt. For all his projected apathy he really was just a big softy at heart.

“I'm all right,” Vex twisted a little to catch his eye and tried to smile, though her back burned with the movement. She made a mental note to check at the apothecary at the next town for some kind of numbing salve. They needed to be better prepared if they were going to be reduced to stitching up each other's wounds in the wilderness.

He nodded, lips set in a thin line. She turned back to rest her cheek against Trinket's nose and comb her fingers through his fluffy cheeks.

“There, it's done,” Vax announced a few moments later. The leaves rustled again as he moved away, and she could just see him sitting across the fire facing away from her.

She sat up and gingerly pulled on the loose tunic she kept to sleep in when they were in town and studied her brother's back for a few long seconds. Then Vex quietly climbed to her feet and padded over to kneel behind him, hooking one arm around his chest and her chin over his shoulder.

“I'm all right,” she repeated. “You're a marvelous seamstress, Brother.”

He didn't smile, but brought one hand up to cover hers. “I can't lose you.”

“You won't.” She tipped her head to the side until it was resting against his. “I promise you, Vax, nothing is going to happen to me.”

“If you were gone, I...”

“Hey now, none of that.” She wrapped her other arm around him, squeezing as tight as she could. “I'm not gone; I'm right here. I'll always be with you.”

“You can't promise that.”

Vex let out a long sigh and looked over her shoulder to her pet bear. “Trinky, your uncle is being maudlin again.”

Trinket let out a grumbling huff and lumbered over to sit next to Vax. He nudged him, then licked a broad stripe along the side of Vax's face from his chin to his hairline. Vax seemed to relax a little like that, even gave a soft, fond chuckle, and reached up to scratch Trinket under the chin.

“Nothing is ever going to separate us,” she murmured, resting her hand on top of Vax's under Trinket's chin. Vax just nodded, but she could tell he was still upset. So she let out a long, theatrical sigh. “And, fine, if it will make you feel better, I'll talk to a healer when we get to the next town. All right?”

He finally relaxed, slumping against her a little. “Thank you.”

She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “I love you, you know.”

Caleb stared at tiefling for a moment, having finally stopped walking just long enough to gawk at the potion. “Where did you get that?” he asked. “Actually, I don’t want to know. Give it here and we can keep going.”

“We don’t necessarily have anywhere to be, y’know,” Molly pointed out, handing over the bottle. He wandered close to Caleb, purposefully putting his arm at the man’s back as Caleb practically chugged the bottle. “We could take it easy for a day or two.”

Caleb finished the bottle, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He eyed Molly and the arm around his back, trying to shrug the tiefling off.

The two continued for a few steps, Molly keeping a watchful eye on how Caleb started to slow down. The human blinked hard, stumbling and grabbing his head as the potion kicked in.

“What… the fuck did you give me?” he mumbled, the words half-slurred.

Molly was right next to Caleb as the redhead’s eyes fluttered shut, the human falling right into the tiefling’s waiting arms. Molly adjusted Caleb’s weight, tucking the empty potion bottle back into his bag before hefting the human up bridal style.

“What does this guy eat?” he asked himself, noting how light Caleb was. He looked heavier under all of those layers. Whatever weight the human did have, Molly was almost sure most of it were his books. “What isn’t he eating is the better question.”

Molly started off into the woods right off of the path, ducking and navigating amongst the plant life and trees. Caleb’s head was tucked into Molly’s chest, his breathing still rough and short. Caleb’s skin felt hot against Molly’s own; the wizard was definitely sick. Molly shook his head to himself, grumbling under his breath how humans didn’t know how to take care of themselves.

It took a good fifteen minutes of searching, but Molly eventually found a small stone cave of sorts––it looked like a large boulder that had been carved out over the years and dug further down by some sort of spell. It certainly wasn’t natural, but Molly didn’t give it too much attention as he went inside and carefully propped Caleb up against one of the walls. Caleb’s head cocked to the side, a small, groaned exhale leaving his lips as he shuddered. Molly put his forehead on Caleb’s, tisking to himself at the obvious fever. Molly carefully took off the human’s jacket, laying it across the floor and carefully setting Caleb down on top of it. He wrapped a few of Caleb’s books in the human’s scarf, using them as a makeshift pillow.

Caleb was shaking slightly, hands twitching and breath ragged. The sleep potion was of a stronger solution––Caleb would have woken up already if it were a normal one––but Molly had a feeling Caleb wasn’t going to wake up just because the sleep potion wore off. He needed this rest more than he (and Molly) fully realized.

“Okay, let’s see if we can do this right,” Molly muttered to himself. Cautiously, he rolled up Caleb’s pants leg to glance at what was causing his limp. He sucked in a sharp breath, wincing slightly at the angle the foot was at. “That… doesn't look too great.”

Caleb’s foot most likely wasn’t broken, which was great news, but he definitely should not have been walking on it. It was twisted at an odd angle and was swollen purple—Molly was wondering how Caleb even got his shoes on. Molly removed Caleb’s shoe and put Caleb’s foot at an incline using the rest of his books.

He had been getting better at his first aid while traveling with Caleb over the past few months, but neither of them had ever really gotten sick before. He felt out of his element as he searched both of their bags for anything that could help––he pulled out their canteens of water, half-full; some random herbs Caleb had needed for a spell; crumpled parchment; and a spare shirt Caleb apparently was adamantly ignoring at the bottom of his bag. He found a few more books that he skimmed, looking for anything dealing with healing or even diseases, only to find nothing that would help him. The closest he got was with a chapter on medicinal teas of which he was pretty sure he had none of the herbs needed to make any of said teas.

Molly held the bridge of his nose, huffing out a breath. Outside, the sky let out a growl of thunder.

“C’mon, Mollymauk,” he muttered to himself. He knew how to make a splint for Caleb’s ankle so he would start there. That much he could manage. “He probably just needs some sleep. A day of rest never killed anybody.”

The tiefling made his way outside, grabbing a few fallen branches and whatever vague herbs he could identify. Above head, the once clear sky from a few hours ago had begun to darken with thunderous storm clouds. It was going to pour from the looks of it and Molly didn't want to be caught in the typhoon when that happened. He grabbed the array of sticks and branches he’d collected and made his way back to the temporary shelter.

Inside, he grabbed the flattest pieces of wood he could and, begrudgingly using one of his swords to smooth it out into a split. Using the rope he had, he applied the splint as best as he could, struggling with getting the rope tied on right. Caleb’s face contorted during the effort, looking to be so in pain to the point where Molly was convinced the redhead would wake up. Still, Caleb remained out-cold, his head lolling to the side. There was still a grimace on his face.

A roar of thunder caught Molly’s attention and he swerved to find a downpour of rain waiting for him outside. The rain sloped down the opposite incline of the rock, luckily avoiding the cave’s mouth for now.

“Guess we’re camping here for now,” he muttered. He glanced around at their miscellaneous supplies, trying to figure out what he should do now. A fire, he reasoned, would be a good place to start.

In his opinion, it took way too short of time to create the fire. Arranging the gravel of the cave around to form a pit, he dropped the rest of the branches into it and, using the right angle of his swords, managed to ignite a spark that grasped one of the branches and began to form a fire. He spent a few minutes blowing on the flame to help it grow, but it all seemed to blur past him. As much as a part of him hated to admit it, he couldn’t stop stressing over Caleb.

Molly wandered over to Caleb again after making the fire, crouching down and checking the other’s temperature. Still high, he thought. Maybe he really should have just given Caleb the health potion.

He’s not dying, Molly told himself adamantly. He’s sick, for Christ’s sake. Whoever Christ was.

“He’ll be fine,” he thought out loud. Silently, he added, He has to be.

Molly contemplated the thought of Caleb dying, just briefly, before shaking his head free of the thoughts and getting up to clean up the mess he made. He couldn’t just stand around and think about what could happen––he couldn’t do much more for Caleb now besides wait and he needed something to do.

Molly started with the books, stacking them in a pile before further separating them by genre because what did he have to lose. After that, he put the canteens by Caleb because if he knew anything about being sick, it was that you needed to stay hydrated. He folded the spare shirt Caleb apparently was never going to mention and put it on top of the books. He put the herbs in a small pile and double-checked to make sure all of their containers were secure. He tried to flatten out the parchment, but there wasn’t much he could do besides place them underneath the stacked books and hope for the best (though, let’s be honest––he wasn’t hoping for much in the first place).

With that done, Molly was left with absolutely nothing to do but sit around and wait and ignore his growing worry.

He took to pacing.

Molly had always been a pacer. He wasn’t sure where he picked it up, but he did it when he was worried. He couldn’t stand the thought of sitting still when something was so out of his hands––sure, life would find its own course and all, but that did nothing when something actually got to the tiefling. He tried not to worry and be as lackadaisical as possible, but that temperament was growing more and more difficult to maintain Caleb’s presence.

With Caleb on his mind, Molly continued to pace.

He wasn’t sure how long he had paced for––Caleb would know, he always knew things like that––but it was almost sure it hadn’t been long because the rain was still coming down in sheets and Caleb still wasn’t remotely close to being awake. Mid-pace, Molly rushed for one of his spare shirts and tore a piece off, wetting it in the rain outside, before applying the cloth to Caleb’s forehead. The cold seemed to relax Caleb somewhat, which calmed Molly, even if only a bit.

Eventually, Molly somehow paced himself into exhaustion. He sat next to Caleb, checking the dampness of the cloth, before taking in his surroundings again. Outside, the storm had been raging for hours and didn’t seem to be letting up. Thunder and lightning streaked the sky as if the gods themselves were igniting fury onto the Material Plane, bright bursts of light and electricity crackling overhead. The wind had changed directions a few times, causing Molly to slowly retreat both Caleb and their belongings deeper into the cave so as to avoid being wet. Throughout it all, Caleb slept.

Molly propped his chin on his hand, eyes threatening to close as the day dragged on. The lull of the rain and thunder was starting to become periodic to the tiefling––it became more of a lullaby than a threat. However, his drifting state was broken as Caleb’s voice became noticeable against the scream of the wind.

“Caleb?”

The human writhed on the floor, hands clenching and twitching as his face contorted. For a brief moment of panic, Molly thought that the pain had somehow become worse and he scrambled to grab the healing potion. The potion was in his hands when he finally made out the other’s words.

“Nonono, get away, get away!”

Oh. It was a nightmare.

Molly slinked back to his previous spot, sighing as he watched Caleb. He grabbed one of Caleb’s clammy hands, rubbing his thumb over the human’s and quietly shushing him.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

Caleb didn’t get nightmares often, but when he did, they were always rough for the both of them. Molly had yet to sleep through one of Caleb’s nightmares, usually on the account that Caleb ended up screaming and waking up in a panic that Molly tried his best to calm. Even after all these months of traveling and near-death experiences (and there were quite a few of those), Caleb had yet to open up about the source of the nightmares. At first, Molly had assumed it was the result of some close-calls with death––who could blame Caleb is that were the case? However, over time, the nightmares began to get more and more specific. Instead of it being a blur and incoherent scenarios, Caleb would mutter about a person and wake up more terrified than anything Molly had ever witnessed. Whenever Molly asked, Caleb would just go quiet and distant and say, in a quiet and broken voice, “Not now, Mollymauk.”

Molly tried not to bother him about them. The best he could do was help Caleb through the nightmares the best he could. Sometimes it worked out alright, sometimes it didn’t.

Caleb rocketed up from his spot on the floor, sweating and eyes wild. Molly stilled, watching as Caleb’s gaze turned to him, his distant blue eyes sweeping over the tiefling once, twice, and even three times. Caleb’s face was pale and he was struggling to take in enough air. Molly held his hands up to show Caleb he was no threat.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” Molly said softly. “Caleb, you see me? It’s Molly. Mollymauk. It’s just me.”

Caleb glanced over him again. “M––Molly?”

“Yeah. It’s me, Caleb. Just me.”

“Where are we? Where is he? What’s––what’s happening?”

He’s barely lucid, Molly realized. It was strange to see Caleb look so vulnerable and scared. The wizard tried his best to remain as stoic as he could, even if that exterior had slowly been cracked over the course of the past few months.

“We’re in a cave,” Molly answered calmly. “You’re sick and you need rest. You’re okay now. Nothing’s going to happen to you––I’m here.”

“But––what if––”

“It’s okay,” Molly repeated. “You’re sick and you hurt yourself earlier. Do you remember what happened to your ankle?”

Caleb glanced down, trying to feel out the answer. His knuckles were white and Molly could see his nails digging into his skin. “I––I tripped on a root while doing a perimeter check,” Caleb answered, voice shaking. “I––I didn’t want to bother you so I didn’t mention it.” His gaze turned back to Molly. “Where are we, Molly? Where is he?”

Molly didn’t know what to say for a moment. “You can tell me if you hurt yourself,” he said instead. “And we’re in a cave, remember? You’ve been sleeping all day. You’re sick, Caleb. Lay back down and rest, it’s okay. You are okay.”

“I… I…” Caleb struggled with his words for a moment. “You won’t leave, right?”

Gods, he really must be delirious, Molly thought.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “I promise.”

Caleb took in a few more breaths, his breathing evening out, and he glanced down at himself. His gaze lingered on the splint, but barely a second later his eyes were back on Molly.

“Can––can––”

“Yeah? What is it, Caleb?”

“Can––can I sleep with you?”

Oh. That was not what he was expecting at all.

“Uh… yeah,” Molly replied. He scooted closer to Caleb, helping the human lean against the wall and keeping his leg propped up until he was finally shoulder-to-shoulder with the human. Caleb leaned his head against Molly, who put an arm around Caleb and brought him closer. At the contact, Caleb seemed to finally relax somewhat and closed his eyes, quickly fading back to sleep. Whatever his nightmare had been about, it seemed to have left him for now.

Molly let out a sigh, tucking his hair out of his face as he glanced down at Caleb. He traced the human’s features from the slight angle of his nose to his eyelashes. He took in the fading redness of Caleb’s cheeks and how he seemed to finally be breaking his fever. He lowered his head, putting his forehead’s to Caleb, and sighed in relief at the obvious temperature difference from earlier.

He really did just need sleep, he thought as his own exhaustion hit him. It seemed all the stress he’d been trying to ignore had finally caught up with him.   I should take watch more often. He stifled a yawn. I’ll give Caleb the healing potion in the morning. I can swindle another one. Probably.

Once she got home, Kallista did her best to quietly tip toe through the front door and around the kitchen. It proved a bit difficult with all the things she was carrying, but she managed to place everything on the kitchen table without much incident. After plucking a plate and mug from one of the cabinets, she set about arranging the things she’d bought with great care at the head of the table. Once she was satisfied, she pulled a small sheet of paper from her bag and placed it next to the spread.

Good. It all looked good. Maybe a little more crude than she’d envisioned it, and with much smaller gifts than she’d wanted, but still good nonetheless. She really hoped he liked it.

With a small nod, she moved towards the stove to get the tea kettle. She was a bit nervous of dropping it, but she needed it to finish the surprise. The thing was old, metal, and felt like it weighed a ton, at least to a small child like her. Ever so carefully, she tried to pick the thing up to put it over the fire. It went well at first, but after a few steps her arms began to wobble from the weight, and it slipped from her grasp, landing with a loud clang on the ground.

Kallista panicked, looking back towards the hall to see if he’d woken up, then turned back frantically to try and pick it up again. She was about to lift it when a voice made her jump.

“What exactly are you doing?”

Kallista froze. He sounded annoyed and tired. The exact opposite of what she wanted today of all days. After standing in silence with her back to him for several moments, she turned around to face him, wringing her hands together nervously as she did so.

“Why are you out of bed so early?” he pressed her, his voice still thick with sleep but his eyes bright and alert and trained on her.

Kallista stared down at the floor, shrugging her shoulders and swishing her tail around her legs in discomfort. “It’s just...today’s Father’s Day and I...I wanted to...I know you’re not...I just…” she trailed off with a big sigh, a sad tone overtaking her voice. “I just wanted to do something nice for you and I ruined the surprise.” she pointed towards the spread on the table as she spoke.

Ronan frowned at her for a moment before turning his gaze towards the table. When he spotted what she was talking about, his mouth hung open ever so slightly in surprise. Arranged before his spot at the table were three freshly baked scones, a small tin of tea with a bow wrapped around it, and a drawing. She must’ve gotten up extra early to run into the Marble District to buy the scones judging by how warm they still were, and the tin of tea happened to be one of his favorites. The thing that struck him about the tea wasn’t that she’d known it was his favorite, but that the tea was quite expensive, especially for a child. She must’ve used up quite a bit of her savings to buy it for him. Finally, he inspected the drawing. It featured him and her standing on rooftop, in their gear, with the little Kallista throwing what looked like confetti. At the top she’d written “Happy Father’s Day” in big red letters. It was a bit messier than some of her other drawings, but it was still rather nice.

“I..um...I know it’s not much...but I saved up for a while and this is all I could get...I really hope you like it…” Kallista said shyly, shuffling closer to his side so she could see his reaction.

Ronan was taken aback. He hadn’t expected her to do anything for him, in fact he’d forgotten about the holiday entirely. The fact that she cared enough to go through all this trouble was…he wasn’t entirely sure how to feel. But he wouldn’t deny the small squeeze he felt in his chest at the sight of it all.

He glanced over to find her staring up at him timidly, a hopeful look gleaming in her red eyes. He watched her in silence for a few seconds before reaching down and ruffling her short hair, mumbling a soft thank you to her under his breath. Judging by the way her face lit up, she definitely heard him. And when he thanked her again after eating the scones and drinking some of the delicious tea, she was practically over the moon.

As the warm light of the early morning sun filtered through the windows, Ronan lounged across his couch, still half asleep, a warm mug of tea in hand. Despite having nothing to do today, after decades of getting up with sun he’d lost the ability to sleep in. So instead he relaxed, drank his tea, and prepared his woodcarving tools to begin a new project.

A loud knock on the door broke Ronan from his peaceful respite. He frowned curiously at the door, but made no move to answer it. He wasn’t expecting any company, in fact he’d made sure no one would bother him today on his day off. He had absolutely no plans to be social, and whoever it was at the door could just leave a note. He turned back to his tea, taking a long sip and settling back into the couch. He had just about gotten comfortable again when they knocked once more, this time louder and more insistent. On the third set of knocks, he cursed under his breath, setting his mug down on the table and getting up to see who the hell was pestering him at such an early hour.

He cracked the door open ever so slightly, and when he peered through it he found Kallista standing before him, a hand on her hip and a toothy grin on her face. Of course it was her. No one else in their right mind would show up this early to be a nuisance.

“Hey old man, you busy?”

He grimaced at her in response as he opened the door all the way, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well I was busy enjoying doing absolutely nothing, but I guess you’ve come to remedy that.”

She snorted, “I take it you forgot what the date is then. Old age certainly isn’t doing you any favors.”

Ronan narrowed his eyes at her, “What are you…”

Oh. It was Father’s Day wasn’t it.

He groaned when he came to the realization, putting his head in his hands. He heard her snicker at him in response, and he glared at her. “It’s my day off, you know.”

“Oh yes. Because I cleared your schedule with the hire ups a month ago.”

“You did what?”

“I have so many fun things planned for today, and I wasn’t about to let work get in the way of it all.” She clapped her hands together with a big smile. He rolled his eyes at her and grumbled in annoyance, which only made her smile grow.

“And what if I don’t want to do anything?”

Kallista said nothing, just folded her hands behind her back and watched him expectantly, an amused glint in her eye.

He let out a disgruntled sigh, covering his face with his hand. “You aren’t going to leave me alone until I come with you, are you?’

“Nope!”

He shot her a withering look, but after realizing he wasn’t going to win this argument, he finally stepped aside so she could come in. “Fine. I guess I’ll come. Not that I really have a choice.”

Kallista beamed at him and pranced in happily, her jewelry clinking together softly with each step she took. Ronan watched as she busied herself about the kitchen, looking through the cabinets for her mug and some tea leaves. His lips twitched up at the corners ever so slightly as he recalled her doing the same as a small child, only now she was tall enough to not need to clamber onto chairs or the countertop to try and reach everything. He arched an eyebrow at her as he finally noticed her outfit, or rather, the ridiculous amount of jewelry she was wearing today. It looked like she was wearing practically everything she owned, but all things considered, coupled with the sleek black dress and breeches she was wearing, the ensemble suited her, even if it was ostentatious as hell. He’d never understand how she found that much jewelry even remotely comfortable to wear.

“I take it we aren’t going to be doing anything dangerous if you’re dressed like that.”

She grinned, waving a hand in the air at him dismissively. “Oh no no no, today is super low key. Nothing exciting.”  

“From the way you’re talking this sounds like it’s going to be an all day affair.” he said tiredly, leaning against the kitchen table.

“Oh absolutely, I’ve got every part of the day planned.” she replied as she finished mixing some honey into her tea. She turned on her heel to face them, mug held up close to her face. She looked him up and down with a comically disgusted look, gesturing at his loungewear with her mug. “Please tell me you’re not going to try and leave looking like that.”

He scoffed in annoyance but otherwise said nothing, trudging to his room to change. Kallista pulled out a chair and sat down to enjoy her tea while she waited, watching Baskerville scurry around the kitchen in search of crumbs.

After several minutes Ronan came back, clad in a casual but refined looking all black outfit consisting of a sweater, breeches, a scarf, and leather boots. Kallista clapped mockingly at him with a huge smirk. “Much much better! Now I can actually be seen with you in public!”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “I really don’t get why you’re insisting with this. It’s just a made up holiday.”

“Oh hush, just accept it and enjoy not having to pay for anything.”

“To be fair, there’s quite a lot of things I don’t pay for already so...”

Kallista shushed him and herded him towards the door before he could stall their departure any longer, scooping Baskerville up from the floor as she did so. After locking the door behind them, they joined the early morning hustle and bustle.

Ronan followed close by her side as she weaved through the crowded streets, shaking his head a bit at her determined stride. “You know I really don’t understand why you’re going through all this trouble. You could’ve just given me a card or something.”

Kallista scoffed. “I’m not a kid anymore, dad. I have a job and the means to actually do nice shit for you. Besides, you deserve way more than a silly card. And I’m certainly not letting you stay holed up at home on Father’s Day of all days.” she patted him on the back, leading him down another side street with a soft smile. “Trust me, it’ll be worth leaving the house, ok?”

Ronan sighed. He wasn’t really sure why she was being so insistent, but from the looks of things doing this meant a lot to her, so he followed her willingly.

She hadn’t been kidding when she’d said she’d planned out the whole day. They started out having brunch at their usual place, same as any other weekend. She got them an over abundant spread of eggs, breakfast meats, pastries, and tea. Definitely more food than their usual fair, but he wasn’t about to complain.

Next she took him to the Marble District. She’d booked them a multi hour spa package at one of the nicest bathhouses in town. They tried out all the fancy baths, even the one with the weird electric shocks they’d heard so much about. Afterwards they got massages done by some friends of the Gash (one could never be too careful, Kallista had said), as well as a slew of other things he completely lost track of. He was too relaxed or dozing off to remember half of it, but he definitely left in a better mood and with a pep to his step now that most of the kinks in his back were gone. Kallista sung praises to whoever it was that worked on her for being able to work so well with her strange legs, which made him chuckle and shake his head.

For lunch she took him to a posh tea house for sandwiches and afternoon tea. The place sold a plethora of rare teas from all over the continent, as well as a few from Iclas. He was able to drink his favorite for the first time in many years, and it brought a small smile to his face as he drank it. Before they left he made sure to buy a tin of it for later, as well as a couple of other kinds he’d liked. Or at least, he tried to buy them, considering Kallista insisted on paying for absolutely everything. A nice change of pace for once, but also a bit weird.

After tea they went to a wine tasting, which they were nearly thrown out of for ‘unacceptable behavior’. The nobles weren’t entirely fond of their unorthodox wine drinking habits or the snide comments and mocking faces the two made at them behind their backs. Baskerville scurrying out of her bag and onto her shoulder was the final straw for the patrons and management, and they were confronted by one of the waiters about it. Kallista charmed their way out of trouble easily, and they left without incident, but not before swiping a bottle of one of the better wines on offer as a souvenir.

For dinner they went to a small steakhouse tucked away in one of the side streets. It must’ve been fairly new, since he’d never eaten there before, but it was away from the large crowds, served drinks, and from the looks of it had very good food. The bison steak he ended up having was incredible, and from the way Kallista devoured her food he assumed hers was good too.

At the end of the night, they found themselves sitting on their usual rooftop haunt, passing the stolen bottle of wine back and forth between them. After a particularly large swig, he glanced over at her, a wry smile crossing his face. “Alright, I’ll admit, that was a pretty good day you planned out.”

She shot him a toothy grin, “See, I told you you’d have fun! And here you doubted me.” she snatched the bottle from him, taking a sip as she kicked her legs back and forth in the air where they dangled over the edge of the roof.  

Ronan gave her a long look before turning away and staring out into the dark night sky, his expression turning solemn. He really appreciated her doing all of this for him, even if he complained sarcastically every step of the way. He'd softened up significantly to the whole thing during tea time, although he wouldn't admit it aloud, and he really had genuinely enjoyed himself. But a part of him felt like he didn’t deserve any of it. He had a lot of regrets about how he’d raised her, about how he’d treated her when she was younger, about bringing her into the Gash at such a young age, about bringing her into the Gash at all. He wished he’d done so much differently, but at the time he really hadn’t known what to do. It ate away at him, especially at times like this when she essentially sung praises about him and how great of a dad he was. He wasn’t sure he agreed with her in any capacity, but it was nice to know she cared enough to do all this for him. There really wasn’t anyone else in his life he could say that about.

The sound of Kallista’s voice broke him from his thoughts with a bit of a start. “Oh! I almost forgot! I got you something!”

Ronan turned to face her once more, lilac eyes falling on the small package she held in her outstretched hands. He frowned slightly at the sight of the new gift. After everything she did for him today, after everything she planned, she still got him a gift? He shuddered to think how much she’d spent on him. He examined the box critically for a moment before taking it.

Kallista leaned back as she watched him unwrap it, gesturing at it with the wine bottle in her hand. “I figured I’ve given you enough handmade sweaters, scarves, blankets, and shit like that to last a lifetime, so I thought I’d go with something a little more practical this year.”

Inside the box he found a beautiful silver knife with a black leather grip. The blade itself was decorated with elegant floral engravings done all in black, and a blood red gemstone was embedded in the pommel. He took it from the box and spun it around expertly in his fingers a bit, watching the way the moonlight played across the blade. When he glanced back into the box he noticed a small handwritten note from Kallista nestled in the wrapping.

Happy Father’s Day!

Be glad I didn’t knit you another sweater, because I was so so close to making you one that said “World’s Crankiest Dad” on it.

I hope you like the knife, I had it specially made and enchanted for you. Figured you could replace some of your old carving knives with it since some of them are starting to look rough.

Thanks so much for everything you do. You’re seriously the best. I hope you had as much fun today as I had planning it all for you.

Lots of Love,

Kallista

Ronan stared at the knife and the note for a long moment. He was flattered by the gift, especially considering how pricey and rare magic items could be in Holden, but it was all so much. He really didn’t deserve all this, the gift, the outing, the praise. He was at a loss.

“Why did you do all this for me?” he asked quietly, a serious look crossing his face.

“You mean besides the fact that you’re my dad?”

Ronan nodded, his eyes trained on her face as he waited for her answer.

Kallista set the bottle of wine down on the ledge next to her, looking out into the city below them. She said nothing at first, but after a while she spoke. “You’ve done so much for me over the years. You’ve taught me so much, given me so much. You were there for me when no one else was, even if I was a royal pain in your ass and still am half the time. You could’ve easily dumped me on someone else, but instead you let me worm my way into your life and you became my family. You mean a whole damn lot to me, you’re like my best friend, and I’m not sure if I’d still be around if you hadn’t come along. We may not have the most normal relationship or life, but honestly I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’ve never really had the means to show my gratitude other than by making you shit, but now that I do? I just figured I’d try and show my thanks by planning you a day fit for a king.” She trailed off for a few moments, a far away look in her eyes, before she turned back to face him, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll probably never be able to repay you or show just how thankful I am, but I guess this is a start at least.”

He was somewhat taken aback by her response. It always took him by surprise when she was this sincere, even now. Despite all the shit she went through growing up and all the terrible things she’d seen and done with the Gash, she was still the same sweet and stubborn girl she’d always been. A small smile broke across Ronan’s face and he chuckled softly. She really was something else.

“I wouldn’t say I’m as good as all that, and I hardly think I deserve all this. But thank you.”

She didn’t say anything to that. Instead she shuffled a bit closer to his side, bringing the bottle of wine with her. She leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes with a warm smile. “Happy Father’s Day, dad.”