tieflingtarot | The time for me has come, let me be the one that got away

The time for me has come, let me be the one that got away

No one wanted to say it. Afraid that by voicing the hope that the universe would snatch the chance away from them. Or worse that the one they might get back would be the one they'd just put down, the serpent wearing their friend's face. A spell on the body to keep it from breaking down, the Nein agreeing to the safer lie that they were uncomfortable with leaving him buried in the middle of nowhere. That they just wanted to make sure their friend had a proper burial rather than a hole dug in the wilds. None daring to suggest that they bring him back themselves, not with the risk involved but hoping...

Well, he'd dragged himself back to life before.

Nothing happened the first few days. The body wrapped carefully in a cloak remained as it had been laid out, undisturbed and unmoving. Admittedly it was a bit demoralizing to wake every morning and find nothing had changed, but the others did their best to press on. It was what Molly would have wanted.

Another thing Molly always seemed so adamant about? Creating a goddamn scene. Not that this was actively planned- another quiet evening, even the most twitchy of the group retiring to their rooms in the tower it was that late, the only signs of life at first the cats in charge of the place moving on quiet paws from room to room.

At least until the sound of screaming echoed suddenly, sharp and shrilly breaking the heavy silence, sending the cats scattering with yowls and bottlebrush tails for cover. Whoever was first to realize where it had come from would find the body missing from where it had been laid out- the cloak it had been wrapped in discarded on the floor, pitchy panicked sobs coming from the far corner where he was curled in on himself, red eyes too-wide from between the fingers splayed across his face, flexing as if to tear away the remembered feeling of the cloak that had been covering his face when he'd woken, sending him into an utter panic.

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It is Caleb's tower, after all.

He'd designed it as such after the fall of Lucien to make sure that no one was disturbed in the night; a silence spell on each of their rooms, so that only they could be woken by their own clocks, at their own leisure. Beau and Yasha could comfort each other as they did on their own. Veth could bury her sorrow (and relief in her husband, while Caduceus did them the pleasure of babysitting Luc for the evening. Jester and Fjord tended to each other as they did; quietly, and without much fuss thanks to Fjord.

Caleb, however.

It was Caleb's tower. He knew most if not everything that went on inside, and the room of requirement, as it was, was on it's own, a room meant to be a sort of....viewing room. For a wake. For a mourning period. And he had feared the worst, so an alarm was placed on the room, and he himself took on the burden of knowing anything and everything that went on inside, save for his friend's privacy.

He's upstairs in room three. Hupperdook's, when it happens. The earsplitting scream from downstairs that sends the cats running.

He knows that voice, and he knows the rest of the Nein won't hear, so he doesn't rouse them---not yet, not until he knew himself. He wouldn't get their hopes up if he didn't have to.

The wizard makes short work of getting downstairs, stumbling out of the memory of where they'd all had drinking games and danced and enjoyed one another's company. He nearly trips out of the elevator, and into the room of requirement. And there he is.

Cowering, in the corner.

"Ah---hallo." The possibility that this could be someone else entirely crosses his mind, and Caleb steels himself for that potential eventuality.

"Are you..." Him? "Are you alright?"

The tiefling didn't budge other than to huddle a bit more securely into his curl in the corner at the sudden appearance of another. But there was something about them that kept him from spiraling deeper into terror, the accented voice soothing in a way that had his attention. He had no idea why, but it was in some way comforting, though that was at the moment outweighed heavily by everything else.

He watched Caleb from between his fingers, shaking still, shaking hard enough that his teeth were just about chattering as he spoke. Something in his gaze enough to tell the wizard that he was tracking what was being said, that he understood, but he made no attempt to reply beyond those broken little noises of fright that were starting to slow at the very least.

Whoever he was, he clearly was not alright.

Perhaps it was a good thing the Nein were asleep in their silenced rooms. This didn't seem like Molly, or Lucien.

He seemed....terrified.

Caleb knew this look. He knew this look well.

"Ah. I see." he says softly. This was a whole new person it seemed. Caleb pads over lightly, shooing away a cat and making space between the two of them smaller. He wanted to comfort, even if it was a ruse, or a trap. If it was Molly and he didn't, he'd never forgive himself.

"You're alright. You're safe here." he adds softly.

It wasn't like Molly could confirm or deny such an assumption. In his current state he didn't even know his mind an utter mess. That he was able to focus on the wizard was a small miracle in and of itself, watching the approach, the cat being sent elsewhere. He felt like he should be wary. He should be afraid, vulnerable as he was right then, with someone approaching, but he also was finding that he wasn't. Not of Caleb and his soft-spoken assurances anyways.

That didn't stop the faint purr starting up in the back of his throat- Caleb would surely know the tone and timbre of it, very similar to any cat who in an attempt to soothe themselves might purr in that manner, rather than a comfortable purr of a content cat. At least though he was slowly lowering his hands from his face to instead grip at his own shoulders as he watched Caleb, the twitch and curl of his tail broadcasting his wary uncertainty well enough. No signs here of tricks or traps, the tiefling not budging from his spot in the corner just yet.

Caleb is a little slow on the uptake, but after a long moment realizes what's going on exactly. The fear is clear, the confusion is clear, but he's...trying to calm himself.

So he sneaks closer. And closer. Before settling in close and sitting down next to him.

This wasn't Lucien, absolutely. So he'd sit and try and suss out just who it was before anyone else could come in and terrify him further.

"My name is Caleb. This is my...tower. It's like my home. Do you remember anything?"

Definitely not Lucien. But there was no way to know anything beyond that yet when he was so out of sorts. At the very least, Caleb had managed to keep from frightening the tiefling more, the slow movements closer almost missed in the moment before the wizard was settling down beside him, causing him to freeze utterly a moment, no sound or movement other than that faint purring that pitched just a bit louder in the moment of uncertainty.

But Caleb didn't otherwise move, wasn't being quick or aggressive, just speaking to him. Just talking in that calm voice that made him want to relax. Tilting his head faintly at the introduction, brows furrowing faintly as he tried to think of something, anything that might answer the question even if he didn't have the words for it.

It was difficult to say, if it was an answer or not when he reached tentatively with a hand to lightly catch a lock of Caleb's hair between fingers, just studying the warmth of the strands against purple skin. Whatever the case he seemed to catch up with what he was doing moments later, enough to startle himself into loosing that grasp to snatch his hand back, gaze dropping with an uncertain little huff.

It's a moment of closeness he wasn't sure how to decipher, but, he files it away for future reference. It's...a strange sentiment, but Caleb looks sympathetic all the same.
Nonverbal, or otherwise couldn't speak. Terrified, anxious---clearly this was an entirely new person, and it dashed any hope from his mind that this could be Mollymauk.

It's a tough pill to swallow, so suddenly. But one he must none the less.

"It's alright. You may." he says, but makes no move to touch his own hair or offer it again. He looks to the floor between them, trying to suss out a way to connect further, and even Frumpkin can feel the tension, as he comes to headbutt his wizard in a welcoming manner. Ah. Here, maybe a feline friend would be able to help. The cat deposits himself in Molly's lap tentatively, purring loudly and returning the feeling as he asks for touches and headbutts and cuddles, while Caleb thinks.

"What about your name? Do you remember that? Lucien? Nonagon? Mollymauk? Are any of those familiar to you?"

The idea that he might remember... he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Part of him relieved, another part uncertain. Anxious.

Not that he had much time to worry about that, distracted as he was by the cat picking it's way under his arms into his lap. His attention caught entirely as he shifted just enough to cautiously wind arms around Frumpkin, lifting him up to cuddle against his chest, burying his face in striped fur with a soft continual purring, his tail curling around his legs.

The name Lucien gets a reaction, a low whimper and start as if the tiefling was stung, that fear not at all soothed by the title that followed, his grasp on Frumpkin shifting as if he was going to try and shield the cat from whatever that name meant, whatever made him feel that cold empty feeling.

Mollymauk didn't get the same response, no fear there to be seen- but he seemed a bit uncertain, head tilting faintly, a crease of his brow as he curled fingers reflexively in fur. Puzzled, but not in the way one might be if they were entirely ignorant of a thing.

Edited 2021-04-08 06:20 (UTC)

That reignites the feeling in him of hope. That he shrinked away from the name Lucien. That he protectively held Frumpkin, that body language doesn't escape Caleb this time, and he leans a bit closer.

"Mollymauk. Mollymauk Tealeaf?" he says cautiously, looking for any other reaction. Something occurs to him to try, and he knows it's a long shot. "M.T. Is what you said before, yes?"

The sudden realization----there's a distinct set of clothes and lack of propriety here, that he might want something unsoiled to wear, not covered in snow or grime or his own blood. With a click of his tongue against his teeth, he's asked a cat to gently retrieve some clothing----and carefully extricate Molly's jacket from Yasha's room. Should it be vacant. If not, then Beau's. But Yasha's room was likely, the vacant one. He asks another for water, and a blanket.

Both felines happily trot away.

The tiefling watched as Caleb spoke, twitching fingers stroking over Frumpkin's fur, an attempt to soothe both himself and the cat. That puzzled look still there, but there was still that spark of something rather than blank unknowing as he silently mouthed the letters, then the name, though no words or sounds escaped him. He'd made the connection between the two it seemed, though whether that meant he was claiming the name or not was hard to say just yet.

At least he didn't look like he was ready to start screaming or panicking again. Still a bit too disassociated to really register the discomfort of his current state, but that wouldn't stop him appreciating being in something clean once the option was offered.

The look he gets in return doesn't grant him any more answers, so all Caleb can do is sit back and attempt to make sense of who this might be.

A cat comes trotting back with a change of clothing, and he realizes that essentially the funeral parlor isn't the best place to change in. He asks the cat to bring the rest to the guest room, and he stands when the purrball has absconded again.

Gently, he holds a hand out to his tentative friend.

"Here, we'll get you a proper room, yes? And get you changed."

At least he seems to be calming- Frumpkin is excellent for grounding panicked tieflings it seemed, as he continued to gently stroke his fur, his purring not quite as pitchy and anxious as it had been- still clearly uncertain, but not nearly as distraught as he'd been fresh-woken.

His gaze turned to the offered hand before considering Frumpkin in his arms, who he was clearly unwilling to release just yet. A moment's determination having him shift his grasp to cuddle the cat in one arm against his chest, before he was gingerly accepting that hand up with the other. It was likely a good thing he was jammed in that corner, as he had a moment where he seemed utterly unable to really get his hooves under him, keeping his grip on Caleb's hand as he braced himself against the wall while he found his footing. Apparently just as unwilling to release the wizard as he was his cat familiar, shuffling a bit closer to him once he seemed to have sorted his balance out a bit more.

Caleb is happy to help stay him as best he can, putting his arms around waist and shoulders or wherever he can to help them wobble less. Frumpkin sees the chance to hop up on Molly-not-Molly's shoulders and make a home there; keeping the purring sensation close by in case of an emergency.

Caleb does his best to rein in his emotions; to help and service, not to project his wants and hopes on this new person wearing his friend's skin.

"Here we go." he encourages softly, coaxing them both into the foyer and onto the elevator, only to lift towards the first floor, guest room. Previously inhabited by Essek, the design had changed back to the desired look meant originally for Molly. Likely out of grief.

The tapestries and the decor just scream Mollymauk; loud and colorful, lavish and comfortable.

And there's his coat, on the bed.

"Here we are. This is for you."

The steadying arm around his waist helps, the tiefling putting his arm around Caleb in kind to help keep upright as they were moving. Giving Frumpkin a gentle nuzzle when the purring feline settled across his shoulders, glad for the small furry weight of him.

He let Caleb guide them, trusting that he knew where to go-he'd said this was his tower after all. The room he was led to... it was definitely attention-grabbing, the tiefling's eyes widening at the sight of it. Releasing his grasp on the wizard as he tentatively drifted further into the room, especially spotting the coat laid out on the bed. He reached like he was going to pick it up before he seemed to see the mess of blood and grime on his hand, an utterly Molly expression of catlike distaste crossing his features as he got a look at the sorry state of himself.

Caleb watches as he's attracted by the jacket and wondered by the room makes his heart swell in a way it hadn't for a while---- well. It had, but usually when dealing with a one (1) leetle blue tiefling, or a small halfling boy who's proficiency with a crossbow made him worry.

He follows over, making to take his hands and pull him to another side of the room. Now, Caleb knew Molly was ostentatious, and loved his personal time, so the bathroom is no exception. There are wonderful colors and depictions of Fletching and Moondrop in the stained glass, richly scented oils and salts on a not to high shelf, and of course, a bathtub made to lounge in in there.

"Here; you don't have to wash up now, but. Well. Let's at least get you into some cleaner clothes."

The color and opulence was honestly a little dizzying to the tiefling, senses still adjusting as they were. But he found he liked it all the same. Not resisting the hands reaching out to guide him, the only sounds from him at the moment being the quiet click of hooves against tile, and the purring of the cat on his shoulder.

Was this who he was? The sort of colorful, ostentatious, carefree person that this room was clearly made for? He... found himself hoping so. This person was clearly cared for, clearly loved, and he wanted that dearly all of the sudden.

Caleb's suggestion got an almost predictable look in response to the idea of just changing clothes now that he was aware of the itch of dried blood and dirt. Frumpkin gently plucked from his shoulder, a kiss laid between furry ears before the cat was set on a low-slung table. And if Caleb thought Molly might have gained some modesty, well the unconcerned manner he was starting to try and peel out of dirty clothing with would put the idea to rest.

Even if he wasn't very coordinated with it yet, struggling a bit when his shirt hooked on a curling horn, a soft frustrated noise slipping from him.

Caleb would be more perturbed by the lack of modesty, but, he isn't. Not so much. It was Molly after all, and he absolutely didn't have the most modesty in the first place, so.

He reaches over to help with that shirt caught on a horn, when an unsettling red eye on his back startles him.

Right.

That.

That conversation would have to come later. Much later. Once Molly is free, he's happy to turn away, and draw a bath for him. Just in case.

"This will stay warm for you. Just in case you'd like a soak." he says after the fact, looking away not just out of respect but he feared the Nonagon's eyes staring back at him and causing him to pull away from his friend again.

Molly was at the moment blissfully ignorant of why Caleb might turn away. It makes sense that the man might be drawing a bath at this point, and so he thinks nothing of the idea.

Aside from that, the tiefling was immediately distracted by the colorful ink decorating his skin, gaze fascinated as he was peering down at his arms, slowly turning his hands this way and that to look at the colors and shapes. By the time Caleb might peer back at him, he'd spotted a mirror and drifted closer, fingers playing over the peacock feathers crawling up his neck, tail twitching in curious interest.

At least until his focus fell on one of the red eyes hidden amongst the bright greens and blues, thumb rubbing over the spot with a slight furrow of brows that only deepened when he spotted another on the back of his hand, and others. Surely there was a reason for them, but he felt that same unease as he'd felt before, that cold pit knotting in his gut. Mouth twisting with uncertainty as he turned to see where else they were, not entirely aware of the way his nails were starting to dig a bit at the edges of red where they'd been resting against skin.

Caleb watches as Molly looks over himself and studies the intricate inks and designs he'd decorated himself with. It's a fond look he has, studying them too, as Molly turns around in the mirror.

He wasn't sure exactly how to comfort him, surrounding the eyes. His own were unsettling as well, and he'd address them eventually but, Molly was most important.

When Molly starts to push and claw at them, he moves to stop him. "Here, watch that, you're...easy on them, you're not invulnerable." he gently chastises.

Molly can't help the soft noise of distress that bubbles up in his throat as he's distracted from that digging. A faint downward twitch of pointed ears as he peered at Caleb imploringly, as if the man would be able to somehow make the unwanted marks vanish.

Drawing a light 'x' overtop the one he'd been scratching at with a clawtip as if to emphasize his dislike of them, that he wanted them gone, tail coiling around his own leg as if to comfort himself from the sudden anxiety about the marks.

Caleb looks to him with sympathy, shaking his head. "I know. I don't like them either, but if I knew what I could do to get rid of them, I would." he says with some degree of comfort.

"Here. We'll get you cleaned up, yes? And after that, we'll get you into some clothes. And something to eat." he adds as an afterthought.

"We'll figure them out later."

Not the answer he wanted to hear- clear enough in the disgruntled pout that Caleb's assessment earned. A little dubious that there was nothing to be done, but after a moment's consideration he nodded slowly. He didn't like it, but the promise that they would sort that out kept him from getting too upset in the moment, let him focus a bit on other needs, like peeling out of the rest of his messy clothing, leaving it scattered across the floor in typical Molly fashion as he turned his attention for the moment to the tub.

He at least seemed cheered by the hot water, gingerly climbing into the tub and settling in near-immediately, sinking into the water up to his chin, red eyes partly lidded as his tail swished under the surface.

Yes, this? This was nice. He liked this.

Caleb collects the clothing to deposit it in a basket for the cats to take care of, a good washing would help, but he surmised that Molly would want to be rid of them as soon as possible. It didn't make a big difference to him, but all the same.

"I know. Is like to get rid of mine, too." Information he didn't exactly share with anyone outside the Nein, but it was Molly. Wasn't it?

"..." He contemplates leaving, shifting near the door frame in thought about any questions he might want to ask. He at the very least understood, if he couldn't speak.

"We'll talk more when you're finished. "

His brows furrow at that information, as he shifts a bit to peer over the edge of the tub, watching as Caleb was picking up the discarded bits of clothing- nothing that he'd ever want to see again let alone wear to be fair.

But when it seemed like Caleb might be planning on leaving? He couldn't help the wash of panic at the idea, starting up to his knees in the water, gripping at the edge of the tub with a white-knuckled grip as he only barely stopped himself from surging out of the water entirely to try and catch the wizard, a keen sounding low and quiet in his throat, eyes wide and fixed on him.

Caleb stops sharply at the noise, wondering if he's hurt, or something worse, but...no.

He's just half in the tub, looking to reach out for him, as though he intended to keep him there.

He contemplates, and decides that the temptation is enough. He is Molly enough to admire himself, but not enough to ask him to crawl in and get comfortable. So, he would remain.

"Ja, okay, but only because you're not being obtuse about it." he says with a degree of faux annoyance, sitting down next to the tub instead of on it. Keeping modesty dictated by his point of view rather than his own focus.

He wonders aloud for another moment.

"So. You remember only a few things. Mostly associations. What about Yasha?" he asks curiously.

He couldn't help the way he sagged faintly with relief, grateful that Caleb had seemed to understand what he needed here. Being alone was... horrifying. He didn't like the way it felt, and so was happy to see the wizard padding closer again to settle in.

Molly enough as well to have a faint smug edge to the cautious twinge of a smile at the allowance as well as the fake annoyance as he eased himself back down into the tub to try and relax again, arms crossed lightly over the edge, chin propped against them as Caleb spoke.

Familiarity again at the name- how he knew it was a name he couldn't say but it was. He tried to think of some way to explain, before finally just reaching lightly to take Caleb's hands if he'd be allowed- but rather than palm to palm, the backs of his hands against the wizard's palms, gently nudging them as if Caleb had taken the hands on his own to draw in and pin between his own and his chest. The tiefling just tilted his head, red gaze on Caleb as if to see if the idea got across.

Caleb furrows his brow, unsure as to what the meaning of the gesture is at first, but he does his best to listen and watch as his friend---his friend---tries to explain.

"...I, I don't..." he murmurs, the action having meant something far more intimate, he thinks, at least it would have to himself. He dashes that thought away instantly.

"...It's something you feel?"

No. It clearly hadn't gotten across, and Molly's face screwed up faintly into a considering look as he tried to sort out how to get the idea across. But Caleb wasn't entirely wrong so he would also tilt his head one way then the other, a 'some, but not entirely' sort of gesture as he drew their hands back to between them again.

Releasing one of Caleb's hands to reach and mime digging and scratching at one of the eyes again before putting his hand back in the wizard's and pressing them back against his chest, brows lifting faintly as he waited to see if the idea took this time.

Caleb squints again, the motion not entirely making sense until he starts again, but from the beginning.

Ah. Hold them.

"I. Okay, okay. I will, but you need to get clean first, and I won't do that for you." he relents, and shakes his head.

"You don't remember Yasha, but you do remember the coat? Just a little. And the eyes are not a good thing. Hm. What else do you remember?" he asks earnestly.

Clearly it's not coming across at all. Molly can't help but huff a faint frustrated noise at that but then Caleb is continuing on. He sinks ever so slightly in the water at the idea of getting clean, tail flicking in and out of the surface as he listens to the wizard, both to try and hear his questions, as well as just... enjoying his voice. It was soothing. Something about it just unraveling tension in him and easing the chill he'd woken with. Nodding at the mention of remembering the coat, and the eyes, Molly unable to help but stick out his forked tongue in displeased disgust at the mention of them.

But what else he remembered... he released Caleb's hands, before tapping lightly against the wizard's chest. He... thinks he remembers Caleb. Not in a very concrete way, all of his memories are scattered, wispy things like a fog drifting over a graveyard. But he sees the general shapes of things here and there, and there's a shape specific to Caleb that encourages him to curl fingers around his shirt collar to try and tug him in, close enough to lay a tentative kiss to his forehead.

Caleb had been keeping his shit together relatively well up til this point. He thought perhaps this person was not Molly but retained some memories, and didn't want to get his hopes too high up.

But then he pats him. Says he remembers him with a touch. And then he grabs his collar and pulls him in, and he's so very suddenly tense and back in the fire.

He can't deny the best case scenario with that. Not at all. He had to have been Molly.

"Time for that later, Widogast." he murmurs. "Get your head in the game." His constitution cracks a little, and he puts a hand on his friend's shoulder, admitting to himself finally that he was really Mollymauk.

"...I missed you, we all did." he says fondly, emotions stuffed down into his chest for later. "They're going to overwhelm you, though, I'm sure."

As if it was any surprise that Molly was so good at upsetting the emotional applecart here, professional shit-stirrer that he was. But he seemed pleased when Caleb understood- didn't remember the words he'd spoken then at first, but then his companion was saying them in his soft accent and it sounded right, the tiefling looking pleased that this had been understood.

For some reason it was so very important to him to make sure that Caleb knew that he was remembered.

And he'd definitely be overwhelmed- the Nein were a lot to handle even at the best of times- as tenuous as Molly's grasp on well... anything was at the moment, small controlled doses would likely be best, for all that it would be near impossible to maintain that once the word spread of what had happened.

Caleb is out of sorts immediately, trying to piece together everything from the past year or two together all in the span of a moment. It's difficult to let go of the moments he'd heard Lucien's voice in the back of his mind, taunting him and giving him another eye, usually.

"We'll keep you in here for now, I'll....I'll tell them tomorrow." he figures, trying to plan out the best way to tell his friends why the corpse in the salon was suddenly gone.

He settles a little bit, leaning back to relax, and doing so, this his hair back mindlessly.

"There's so much to tell you but. I have a feeling it'd be lost on you mostly."

Molly seemed much calmer now, releasing Caleb as he was settling too, just leaning against the side of the tub, chin against his arms as he basked in the heat of the water. Just watching the wizard at the moment, red gaze skipping over him as he tilted his head in a considering sort of way. He was weary enough now that the immediate terror of reawakening had faded, he could tell that staying in these rooms wasn't too much of a hardship, assuming Caleb didn't try to leave him on his own. That he knew wasn't about to end any manner of well.

The mention of a lot to tell had a question arising in Molly's mind, and he frowned, nailtips tapping at the edge of the tub as he pondered with a furrowed brow how he could suss out how long he'd been... gone. He was guessing it was a good chunk of time, just from studying the wizard himself. At the very least he looked inquisitive enough at Caleb's comment.

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The time for me has come, let me be the one that got away

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