Tag: mollymauk

dementorsatemysoup:

Croot backs out of the kitchen, carrying another plate full of food, setting it on the bar. “Did you order this?”

Molly looks down at it, head tilted, staring at the steaming sausage. He shakes his head, looking up at Croot, and offers him a smile. “Not me, but I’m sure someone did.”

Croot grunts, leaving the food sitting there, and walks back into the kitchen. Molly sighs, finishing the last bit of his drink, and turns to look out at the impromptu party.

The feast the townspeople had thrown them had somehow spilled back into the inn they’re currently staying at, a half dozen or so citizens scattered across the tavern floor. Fjord is nodding along to something a farmer is saying, his lips turned up in an amused smile, but he can’t quite mask the exhaustion in his eyes. Jester sits cross legged on the floor with Jules and one of his little friends, showing them some of her less risque drawings, trying her best to hide her winces whenever she moves wrong. Nott and Beau, having no pretenses about hiding just how tired they are, are sitting against the wall, huddled together, mostly asleep. They’ve all been through hell and back, and it’s only a matter of time before they all head up to bed.

Caleb is noticeably missing, and Molly can’t help the worry he feels twisting in his gut. He leaves a silver on the bar, knocking on it softly with his knuckles, and heads up the stairs.

The door to their room is ajar, yellow light spilling out from the crack and into the hallway. Molly stops next to the door, listening as Caleb shuffles around inside the room, muttering under his breath.

With a small sigh, Molly gently knocks on the door, and softly calls, “I’m coming in.”

He pushes the door open, leaning against the frame, frowning as he watches Caleb sort through his bag of incense. He spares Molly a single, haggard glance before returning to the bag, muttering something in his native language.

“What are you up to?” Molly asks curiously, concern gripping his heart and squeezing it tightly.

“My cat,” Caleb whispers, dumping the incense out onto the floor. He crouches down and starts sifting through it. “I just, I need my cat.”

Molly pushes away from the door, slowly walking across the room, and kneels down next to Caleb. “Okay,” he says gently, looking down at the incense. “Would you like some help? Tell me which incense you need and I’ll find it for you.”

Caleb nods absentmindedly and Molly suspects he’s not really listening, his fingers shaking as he pushes certain incense aside. He’s mumbling to himself again, breath hitching in his chest, and Molly feels his heart break.

“Maybe you should sleep,” Molly suggests kindly.

“I, I can’t,” Caleb replies, shaking his head frantically. “I-I need my cat.”

Molly’s smile is sad, but he nods and returns his attention to the incense. It takes a bit to find the type Caleb needs, but soon they have enough for his spell. As Molly puts the rest back in the bag, Caleb stands and starts collecting the rest of his supplies.

“My father-” Caleb trails off, blankly staring at the floor. He shakes his head, clearing away whatever had been plaguing his mind, and clears his throat. “My father taught me how to summon my familiar.”

“How old were you?” Molly asks curiously, dusting the remaining incense off his hands and standing up.

“Twelve.”

“You’ve had Frumpkin since you were twelve?”

Caleb nods, putting his charcoal and incense on the bedside table. “He was a very gifted wizard. Taught my sister and I everything we knew.”

“You have a sister?”

Caleb hesitates, bowing his head. “Had.”

“What?”

“Had,” he says a little louder, gripping the bedside table tightly, shoulders tensing. “I had a sister.” In a fit of anger, he shoves the ingredients off the table, scattering them across the floor. “Fuck,” he whispers, falling heavily on the bed, burying his face in his hands.

Molly leaves the bagful of incense on the floor, moving across the room, and sinks onto the bed next to Caleb. He hesitates for a second before putting his arm around his shoulders, squeezing him gently, and says, “You don’t have to talk about it now, but if you ever do I’ll listen.”

Caleb nods, burrowing deeper into himself, and says, “Thank you.”

They sit silently for several minutes; Caleb tense and weary; Molly concerned and equally weary, but they have to move eventually. With a sigh, Molly releases Caleb and stands up. “Didn’t you say something about your cat?”

Slowly, Caleb picks up his head, looking at Molly, and he murmurs, “You don’t have to…”

Molly offers him his hand, smiling softly, and says, “Nonsense. I miss the little bugger anyway.”

A ghost of a smile appears on Caleb’s face and he takes Molly’s hand.