🦊The Fox In The Clover🦊

Slowly but surely, it becomes an accepted truth you’re here to stay until you’re called back to your Archive. In this time you’ve had the opportunity to prove not just your reliability but your motives, your personal goals, abilities and have earned some trust, as much as the Mighty Nein is able to put their trust into another. Caleb finds himself taking up night watches with you. For the longest of times these were spent in silence. No attempts of talking made, leaving only the sound of the world outside the dome; a comfortable peace. As inquisitive as he knows the members of the Cobalt Soul to be, he expected an interrogation, expected to have to talk his way through, watch his every word or have it be observed, noted down and recorded somewhere at a later date. He expected the hunger for knowing someones business, to spy to gain any knowledge that can be found, to be as prominent within you as it is in Beau but he was proven wrong. Well not entirely, you have the same skillset. You simply choose not to, when it came to him. You did not pry for information, nor did you seek to reveal truths of those around you. You only enacted those skills where appropriate, yet never for personal gain. Though, he’ll admit when you do it out of retaliation against your fellow monk, it’s caused quite the scene. 

He began to realise, your abilities to see through certain mannerisms, to study a person and pick them apart that comes so natural to you and leaves very few capable of hiding things from you, you saw through him, and instead of delving deeper to learn his secrets you backed off. You let him come to you, opened the door for whenever he chose to wander, welcoming when he would, and indifferent when he did not. Caleb feels obligated to say, that’s one of the few mercies he’s received in his life; someone who does not need to know him, to know him, and someone who does not call judgement based on what they know. You ask not for a story, nor do you feel entitled to information and he’s left wondering how you ever came to be among the Cobalt Soul and why but he extended you the same courtesy as you did him. He would not pry. He got tempted to ask, did ask, about your life, and background and you had answered. He expected weaving of words and instead he found blatant truth. No deceit. No lies. No half-truths. Just… The truth. But many still deceive through the truth and while he was left with some mistrust, that alleviated because he knows you. And so he felt comfortable. He opened up more, he left open the door for you to ask questions, and he’d answer. Not always as truthful as you, and if you caught onto his redirecting or blatant lies, you did not say. You’d simply smile and tell him not all secrets need exposing. 

It’d be a lie to say Caleb had not grown comfortable around you. Your silent nights would be spent discussing your latest reads, and theorising a great many things. You’d be exchanging books, giving recommendations, and discussing your studies. It’s been a blessing to be with a bright and learned mind, someone who shares in that same excitement. It’s excited to be among a fellow scholar, someone like him who understands the value, and intricacies of this world, and worships them like he does. It’d be a lie to say Caleb had not grown attached to your presence, missing it when you had to go off on your own for a few days, and awaiting your return with a pleasant smile. He found himself more positive and focussed when researching with you, when Beauregard would not bear another minute overseeing him at a library, when he delved too deep for even her to keep up and not grow exhausted. You’d be there. 

It’d be a lie to say Caleb had not begun to form some attraction towards you. As much as he found himself able to relax, to be his true self, or who he chose to be, he felt that tightening in his chest, whenever his eyes would veer in your direction over the edge of a book. That feeling would only grow and make his heart skip a beat when your eyes met his and you’d smile at him before going back to your reading. He’d be reminded he was feeling colder whenever you enter the same room as him because you’d spread the flames of a bonfire on a cold night within him in his presence and he’d find himself gravitating towards you. When he felt himself short of courage, you’d only have to cast one glance, and he’d feel reassured; you believed in him. When he struggled you’d be the first to notice. You’d offer a hand, if he was willing to take it, or just your presence in shared solitude if not, when the demons came out to play and he wanted to be anything but alone yet would not trust anyone else, would not rely on anyone else asking questions or needing explanation. You’d be at his side no matter what, when he needed you most. 

Turns out you share a home, or as much of a home either of yours could be. You share a point of origins; Rexxentrum. Eventually the roads of wisdom and adventure would take you there. Both of you dreaded the place, sharing plenty of unpleasant memories, but also good ones. Where Caleb had preferred to forget his time here, you had found peace among the stacks, in the solitude of books and knowledge. You’d had an escape. One day he hopes to turn that distaste for this place into the safe haven you made it for yourself because if you can do it, so can he. You told him you’d help him do so, if only he’d ask. When the Nein’s stay in Rexxentrum became apparent, Caleb got over himself and indulged in the escapes offered, found new memories not laced with pains of the past, and instead found himself looking towards a future. 

After days of research, necessary for the next adventure, the Nein had found a moment of peace and relaxation. Beauregard told him to piss off when Caleb asked her to come to the library with him. You were busy, tending to your own duties at the Archive. Your work doesn’t end when theirs does, and so you had seen him in passing. Confused you excused yourself and dismissed the archivists you were working with to approach the wizard. 

“Caleb? What are you doing here? And on your own at that?” You ask the wizard, followed closely by a representative of the Soul. You’d expected him to be with the others, causing trouble or being the voice of reason, bullying your friends out of a one way ticket to jail again but instead you find him here, in your domain. You can’t help but feel your heart warm at his presence. 

“I-uh I came to do some light reading.” He says sheepishly. You look towards the Soul overseer behind him and dismiss the poor student, assuring you’ll keep an eye on your friend and so the two of you are left alone in the halls. 

“You should have told me. I’d have given you access to all the best collections.” You smile. Caleb finds himself mimicking your smile as you offer for him to move along and so you wander, side by side. He hopes he misread, because if not you caught onto his cheeks darkening slightly. If not out of embarrassment, then because of your kindness and how your attention fell to him completely, how you put aside something important for him, just to spend time with him and make him feel important, make him feel important to you. “You’ve not seen the best parts of this place yet. All the great spots are hidden ones. I’d be happy to show you if you want, or you can tell me what your point of interest for the day is and I can leave you to browse for yourself?” You suggest and offer your hand to him. Without a second thought he places his palm in yours and relishes in the warmth of your ink-stained fingers wrapping around his, urging him along, around bends and corners, weaving between the shelves. Your glee warms his heart. 

“It might not be the collections of the Candles but we have our fair share of arcane knowledge hidden among these shelves, if only you know where to look.” You say as you unwrap his hand from yours and allow your fingers to trail along the spines of the books. While Caleb instantly misses your touch, physical contact he never thought he’d be able to truly enjoy or be worthy of again, but he feels the ghost linger, and as if a secondhand sense he feels the tingling across his skin, when you glide across the tomes until you found what you were looking for. You pull out a book, Caleb misses the cover as you flip through the pages and show to him the intricate patterns of rituals associated with arcane magic. These are no spells, but the knowledge is still very valuable. 

“Does-does the Assembly know of these?” Caleb lowers his voice as his brows furrow, tapping his index finger to the page. 

“If they knew, do you think it would be here?” You offer him a look that can only be described as a scholar’s mischief. There it is, hidden in plain sight. You’re right. This tome, and plenty others by this collection, would not be here if anyone actually had the time and interest to read every book in this place. Luckily the Assembly has other things to focus on than to investigate books they don’t even know about existing and the Cobalt Soul chooses their librarians carefully. 

“You’d trust me with this information?” The gravity of the situation hits him. To you, he is a former student of the Soltryce Academy, and would have become a member of the Cerberus Assembly in turn, yet here you are, showing him this secret, fully aware what the consequences would be, to you, to your own order, if it got out. How did something so small, become something so significant. 

“I trust you with my life, Caleb. You’ve saved it many times. There’s no one I’d rather trust with my knowledge.” He takes the book from your hands, and closes it. His eyes remain on the tome though from the corners he can see some hesitation before you continue. He can’t really place why but feels a pang within his own chest, sharp like a knife. Rubbing the sore spot as he turns his gaze upward once more, he tries to alleviate the ache. 

You continue, telling of the history of certain collections, how they were acquired and when, speaking of your personal experiences and opinions, picking up another couple of books from the endless shelves as if you have them memorised. Arcana. History. Stories. Fairytales. You talk and he listens happily as you venture deeper into the library. He puts in his own comments, answers whenever you ask a question, and the conversation that flows is enjoyable. You could spend hours like this, and so you do, until you follow a familiar path, Caleb sees you double check the signs, and going against directions or, ducking into narrow spaces between the shelves, here and there until a multitude of floors up, through the dimly lit paths you guide him into a little nook, hidden from view of others, hidden from those who do not know it even exists, given the light layer of dust that covers some of the display cases, and scroll racks. 

“You don’t know what I had to do to smuggle up some comfortable seating.” You mutter as you set the books on the low table and allow yourself to drop onto the soft cushioned couch. It’s a nice shade of blue, like associated with the Cobalt Soul, so it wouldn’t stand out. The space itself allows for some natural light from the window, and has a view over the city. Given the lack of dust in the windowsill he assumes it’s been used as a reading spot regularly. Caleb puts his own stack down next to yours and you bend your legs at the knees, allowing for him to take a seat too. He does with a smile in thanks. You kick off your shoes, discard the heavier layers, suitable for the cooler floors, to make yourself more comfortable. It’s not entirely unpleasant to see you feeling at home and he can imagine the times you must have come up here for solitude. He’s happy to be able to share this moment with you now, and honoured you would share it with him. 

“It’s comfy.” He says, relieving himself of his scarf and coat, grabbing a book from the stack, handing it to you, before grabbing another for himself. And so you spent your time reading. Unlike with the others you read at the same pace, finishing your first book much faster than the company you’ve been spending time with ever could. You move on to the next book, noting a passage of the your reading material whenever it might be of interest to the other, discussing, and then moving on. It’s a pleasant habit leaving you both content. Over time Caleb’s position has relaxed too, having grown more accustomed to the new space, finding himself in a pose similar to yours; slumped against the arm of the couch, boots off, legs bent at the knees and a book propped up on his lap. The couch is not the longest and so your legs are touching, leaning against one another. Were you anyone else, Caleb might have somewhat minded, or be more tense but right now he remains relaxed. This feels natural. This feels right. Another book finishes, and so the next one is up. 

“You know,” You start. “I’ve read this book more times than I can remember and yet I still come back to it. It’s funny how we tend to be creatures of habit.” You state into the abyss holding an older book, spine weathered and pages yellowed. The inscription is in Zemnian but Caleb remembers it well. He too knows this particular volume. 

“Fairytales offer escapism when reality is too bothersome to deal with.” Caleb states and you know it to be true. What reaches you is the companionship in that statement, as if to say you are not alone in that sentiment. What surprises you is Caleb swinging his legs back onto the ground and returning to a somewhat normal sitting position, putting away the book he was about to read. You join him, as a force of habit but hold on to your book. Did you say something wrong?

“I suppose these stories were my company whenever I felt alone.” That’s definitely a sentiment Caleb shares in. As much as stories are escapism, they are company too, if not the characters in these collections, then in the spaces between the letters, or the hidden messages between the words. Sentences weave a warm blanket when the world is cold. He knows the feeling all too well. 

“Do you feel alone now?” He waits for your answer in suspense, unsure of what your reply would be. He has a decently easy time knowing people and their intentions but your inner workings, he remains doubting. What he may not realise that he only doubts his reads off you whenever they have to do with him or are centred around his being because he doesn’t think himself to be worthy of that influence and effect over someone. 

“I haven’t felt alone in a while, I think.” You answer truthfully. There’s a brief moment of silence as you contemplate wether you should ask or not. “And you?” 

“Not anymore.” Caleb answers far quicker than expected but he is certain. There is no doubt in his mind because when he sees you, next to him he does not feel alone. He does not feel lonely. He does not feel like an outsider. He feels like he belongs. He feels at home and so he decides to speak a truth he’s been trying to fully figure out for a long time. “Not since I let you in and you showed me what it is like to to be more than a broken man scrambling for knowledge to sustain his sense of self.”

“You’re not broken, Caleb.” You place a hand on his knee, tethering him to this world instead of his spiralling mind. He smiles at you. 

“Not anymore.” He takes the book from you. “Come here?” It’s more a question, inviting you into his embrace and you are more than willing, wrapping your arms around his middle as he holds you close. Caleb is not particularly known for his physical affections and this is a rare moment, still it feels so natural. There’s no rigidness to his form when he is taken by surprise or offers such a gesture begrudgingly. It was offered freely, and it’s every bit as warm and comforting as it has always been for you. You don’t know how long you stay in each other’s embrace but eventually you pull apart. These affections taste like more and so Caleb sits back in his previous spot, leaving space for you to join him on his side. You accept this invite too. 

Back to his chest, one arm securely wrapped around your waist you lean into his form. Your legs tangle together and with his free arm Caleb holds the book of fairytales where he can see the pages properly. This proves a little more of a struggle with one hand given that the tome is surprisingly heavy and so you chuckle, take the book from his hands and open it, holding it on the first page and allowing him to adjust to best view it. At first you expect to read it together, given your own reading speed you’ll not struggle with waiting to turn pages but instead you feel the vibrations of Caleb’s voice in his chest as he begins to read out loud. 

“Er war einmal in einem kleinen Haus an einem großen, weiten Wald ein Junge mit seiner Mutter. Der arme Junge war krank und verbrachte viele seiner Tage in seinem Bett, und sah die Tage an dem kleinen Fenster seines Zimmers vorbeiziehen. Die Mutter des Junge liebte ihn sehr-“