[The rest of the Exandria population here is gearing up for Winter's Crest, which is all well and good. It's not a Wildemount thing, mind, but Barren Eve is. And Caleb sees the appeal of gift giving anyway.
Even in circumstances that are so complicated it's nigh on painful.
So Astrid will find a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with ribbon. The note attached reads simply, in Zemnian. 'A small thing to help you settling in. - Caleb'
Inside the package is a bundle of fine paper (feel the linen thread count oooh) and a quill and bottle of ink. Caleb knows he was annoyed not to have any of this when he'd arrived here.]
[ She's set herself up in a small cottage, not in particular proximity to anyone else. The privacy suits her, even if there is a distinct lack of a presence she's never really had to consider being without for very long. Loneliness isn't a new feeling, but the question of if rather than when makes it harder to grapple with.
And so she's not quite prepared for the wave of emotion upon opening the gift. She's already resolved to use the enforced down time away from her duties to resume some projects left too long, even if it means having to start over from memory. The paper will be put to good use. Caleb has even managed to find a quill that suits her preference, and Astrid can't help the memory of a similar gift long ago, surfacing for the first time in a very long time.
She arranges the paper and quill and ink neatly on the small desk, staring at it for a few moments before drawing a sigil in the air, touching two fingers to it and then to her lips as she casts a Sending message to Caleb: ]
Thank you for the thoughtful gift, it is very much appreciated. [ a short pause. ] You are always welcome to knock on my door.
[The sending catches him off-guard, but he only startles a second or two before he recognizes the voice and the words she's saying begin to sink in. He can't be seen, but there's a flicker of a smile on his face -- there and gone -- before he replies back.]
You are very welcome. I hope they will be of use. [The words that come next are more surprising.
Surprising, but not unwelcome.] Then I will try that next time. Perhaps tomorrow? I will bring tea.
[Some things never really change. Caleb is only half-expecting the second sending spell.]
Mid-morning then. I will answer what I'm able to.
[A pause.]
I will see you tomorrow. I look forward to it.
[And true to his word, Caleb does arrive sometime around eleven the next morning, wrapped in his scarf and coat, a small basket in one hand. This time he does indeed knock, stepping back to wait.
He's nervous, but when isn't he these days? That anxiety never really loosens its grip fully, though he is at least less jumpy looking than their initial meeting here.]
Caleb is not the only one feeling the unpleasant knot of anticipation. Just when she thought she had gotten past the tension his visits had brought her in the wake of their deposition of their old teacher, here she is, flung back into uncertainty. Some of it, she intends to fix today, as much as she is able.
Astrid still hasn't quite gotten past the way her heart gives a particularly hard beat in her chest any time she opens the door to him. Her smile is more in her eyes than her lips as she gestures him in. The cottage is very modest, with only an open front room, a small kitchen, and bedroom. A fireplace burns warmly, with two chairs near it. A table between them is already stacked neatly with a few books, and a desk in the corner holds more, along with the parchment and pen and ink he had given her. In the center is a notebook, already well worn and more than halfway filled, something from home.
"Thank you for coming," she gestures to the chairs by the fire. "Would you like something warm to drink?"
Caleb wonders if it will ever get easier, that moment where past and present and what could have been collide. Maybe it never will. Astrid is a reminder of the worst parts of his life, but she herself -- she and Wulf both -- are some of the only real good of that time.
The modest abode is oddly comforting; they're both from the smaller villages of the Empire, after all.
"Thank you for having me. I've been hoping to meet, but didn't want to intrude while you were settling in." Also he's a coward, so a little prompting was required. "And yes, please. I've brought some tea." He holds out the basket. Inside is an herbal tea blend, something with a hint of spice and cinnamon that seemed appropriate for the weather.
It had already taken several months to find a new equilibrium in the wake of it all, now she feels that same awkward unsureness again, uncertain what level of familiarity and trust makes sense for them now. Someone else might insist that he could never intrude, but in truth she had needed some space after that first meeting, and after that uncomfortable and irritating run-in with a young shape shifter.
Astrid accepts the basket and inspects the tea. It smells warming and familiar, and she makes an appreciative noise.
"Thank you - please sit and I'll be there in a moment."
And a minute or two later, she returns with a small teapot and two mugs, setting the teapot near the hearth for a moment to move the books from the table to the desk. Finally she settles herself in the other chair, cups and teapot taking the place of the books.
"So," she begins carefully, hands folding on her knee. "You said before that you have already been here several months. But since our last meeting, I've been wondering about the difference in time between us."
A small nod and Caleb makes his way to take a place in one of the seats by the fire, going so far as to unwind his scarf from around his neck like he may be staying for a while. He takes the time to look around as well, to take in the place that Astrid has chosen to call 'home' as much as any place in this strange other-world can be. It's small and simple, but those are not insults; the fire burns warmly and the trappings of a wizard are clearly already visible here and there. Books and paper and spell components. They are creatures of habit at the end of the day.
As Astrid returns, Caleb sits up straighter, reaching for one of the cups to cradle in his hands, letting the heat seep through into his fingers. He watches her, looking curious as she begins.
He nods. "It is a good question." His gaze drops to his tea as if trying to remember what their last encounter in Exandria was. He's not, of course. Caleb remembers everything, even the things he sometimes wishes he could forget. It had not been an easy night, the last time he had seen Astrid and Eadwulf. "The last time I saw you, back home, we'd had dinner with Trent, at his invitation. I wound up in this place only a few days later."
The dinner. She takes a sip of tea herself to let that realization settle in. It had been many, many months since then, and yet in many ways it also felt like years. So much had changed in that time. Her memory may not be as perfect as Caleb's, but it's not a night she has difficulty remembering; the precariousness of the evening, half convinced someone was going to die before the dinner was over, or that somehow her still bubbling misgivings would be exposed. Trent had tried his old tricks of playing her ambition against his thinly veiled implications for Caleb to be his preferred successor. He'd succeeded in only making her more determined to overthrow him.
"I see," she says. There's relief in having it confirmed, but also a sense of loss and confusion. How to reconcile the differences between them, now?
"That was several months ago, for me. Many things are...different, now." The glance to the ring on his finger is unintentional, but too late once she realizes. "For both of us. I admit I...am not sure what to do. If you wish to know what has happened, or might happen, for you, or if perhaps you have simply...left it all behind?"
Caleb's eyebrows rise ever so slightly, but the surprise is brief. He's gotten used to vast differences in time between himself and the rest of the Exandrian population that has wound up here. Years. Decades. Somehow though, the several months that Astrid mentions feels like a wider chasm than any of that.
So much can happen in a matter of months, and Caleb does not miss the way her gaze strays to the ring on his finger. Her question strikes home, but Astrid has always been a sharp-edged thing, a brilliant mind. Caleb looks down once more at his tea before mustering his courage to meet her gaze once more. "I won't pretend that I have not found a home here. The knowledge that another piece of myself remains in my place to continue on, that has helped. But that does not mean I do not care about what will happen, what will become of the loose ends and goals still remaining. I would very much wish to know what has transpired or will transpire."
A home. Her gaze wanders toward the fire as the thick feeling of Wulf's absence shifts to the forefront once more. Could she make a home here, too, if it came to that? Would any home be worth having, without the reassurance of him at her side? For a few moments, her expression is almost sad, if faraway.
She takes a breath, fixes her eyes on his again. A lovely, familiar blue she never stopped seeing in her dreams.
"The short version is that you succeeded. You, and your friends, in your mission in the north. And afterward, we brought down our dear teacher."
There's no missing that distant sadness; even now he knows her or at least knows enough of the girl she used to be, just enough of the foundation of the woman she's become that it's unmistakable. It sets something in his chest to aching.
At least until Astrid speaks, and then everything distils down to those words. He'd known they were going into danger, and to know they actually managed it is a weight off his shoulders. But it's the mention of their teacher that steals the breath straight from his lungs like a physical blow to the chest. Eventually he finds his voice again. "Good. That... yes, good." Profound, Caleb. Genuinely. But more importantly. "And if 'we' did it... that is even better."
There is, of course, much more nuance to how it all happened. Her duplicity on both sides, until the moment was right. The force of her anger and frustration at being denied bloody vengeance and the lingering bitterness that had only recently lost most of its bite. She is still capable of forgiveness, at least.
"We did," she reaffirms, taking her tea again and holding it between her hands. "I have taken his place on the Assembly." Astrid falls quiet a moment, not entirely sure what else feels right to share. Do the details even matter, as far away as they are now? When things are clearly very different for him?
"Congratulations are in order then," Caleb can't help the hint of a smile creeping across his face as he speaks. It's one of the least surprising outcomes he could imagine, if Trent Ikithon truly were deposed. Astrid is ambitious and brilliant, and he's sure she'll do well on the Cerberus Assembly -- though he's still also fairly certain that too much of the Assembly is a corrupt danger that needs to be rooted out and its ground salted.
He sits up in his chair, setting his teacup aside and clasping his hands in front of him. "I wish to know everything, typically. But in particular, I care for the fate of my friends, but you've given me that already." He pauses, taking his time to put together his next words.
"And us? Is there some hope for my counting you as one of those friends?"
Astrid feels the brief hint of a flush at the congratulations. The first time he had offered it when they'd met again after her official appointment, she'd still been too tangled up in her feelings over all of it to appreciate the sentiment. Now, though, she feels herself soften and relax, perhaps moreso than she has since arriving. She returns her eyes back to him, and a yearning moves like a riptide through her chest, briefly breaching the façade in her carefully composed expressions.
"...yes." A faint smile flickers in and out. "In fact you've settled in Rexxentrum, so we see each other often. So far you've resisted my requests to take up a teaching position at the academy."
It's those small flashes, the hints of the girl he'd known, that strike the deepest in Caleb. He can't pretend to know what the intervening years have been like for Astrid, not entirely, but moments like this that distance feels smaller somehow.
That smile, faint as it may be, brings an answering one to his face. "Good, very good. And you will have to keep working on me, I imagine. I'm very stubborn." Well, at least he's self-aware.
"I hope we can continue that here too. Isolation in this place is not only unpleasant, it's potentially full of dire consequences."
Moment by moment, that space seems to lessen even more. She knows there will always be gaps in some places, but the more they talk the easier it feels. Perhaps she shouldn't have feared as much as she had; after all this time and pain, there are some things that are still true for both of them.
The curl of her lips stays a little longer this time, less pained and more knowing, her eyes a little brighter now.
"You are," she agrees. "But I will outlast you, on this account." It helps that she's certain it's what he wants, too.
Astrid looks around the small cottage, from the already busy desk to the teapot and hearth, back toward the bedroom. It doesn't quite feel like hers, in the way this world doesn't quite feel entirely real sometimes. And in truth, she has isolated herself already, hasn't she?
"...I would like that." Her brows furrow, looking down at her hands. "In truth I've...not spent much time on my own. I needed some time to think...and this cottage has been good for that. But in reality, I'm out of practice, finding my way entirely on my own, without a goal to guide me." She pauses before adding quietly: "Or without Wulf."
"Hmm. It will be a close contest, but I think you are the favored to win this contest." Because she's right. When he was a child, the thing he'd dreamed of most was becoming an instructor at the Academy. If he had to guess, this future version of him, his reluctance is part of some certainty that he can't possibly deserve something he actually wants.
He follows her gaze around the small space before looking back to her once more, watching her face even as she gazes down at her hands. Eventually he leans over enough that he can set his hand atop hers.
"I care about you, Astrid. I think I always will. I regret so many things I have done in my life. Most things maybe. But I do not regret you. Or Eadwulf. I know I am not Wulf, but for what it may be worth, I am here."
His hand is warm. It always is. Every other time since he walked through her front door all those months ago that he's tried to tell her what he feels, she's never been able to accept for one reason or another. In disbelief or shock or anger or just the mere presence of others, it has always been too hard to acknowledge. In the months since the grove when her bitterness had finally abated, they had fallen into a carefully building comfort with one another. That care was implied, and felt.
Perhaps it is her loneliness, the stress of this sudden transition, or everything all at once - but now, finally, Astrid lets those words sink into her, to mix with her memories of all the other times he tried to tell her, and finally hold onto them in the moment. Her eyes blur with tears, and they streak silently down her cheeks as she closes her eyes, teeth clenched hard against the ferocity of emotion.
She turns her hand to take his in return, and whispers. "It is more than I deserve."
Once more, she meets his gaze, to finally speak a truth long held in.
"We never stopped wanting you back, Bren. There was never a day that I didn't think about you."
His fingers tighten around hers even as he lifts his other hand to brush across the track of tears left on one cheek. Whatever it was that allowed him to say these words and Astrid to hear them, he is grateful for it.
There's a smile, genuine, but with a tinge of sadness, at those words, at the sound of his name. In a kinder world, things could have been so very different.
"And that is more than I deserve," he answers, just as quietly.
Another squeeze of her fingers and he sits back, drawing his hands away slowly as he settles into his chair once more. "There are people I should introduce you to. Some of them are fascinating. There is one man I have been teaching magic. He has some talent for it." And he wants her to know Peter, too. And Vex, Vax, the rest of Vox Machina.
He's gone too soon. Far sooner than she's ready, but it's just as well. Just as important that he is here and all the things that he is, are all the things that he is not; not Wulf, not the man who has heard her story, not hers. Astrid finds her composure again quickly, pulling back from what feels like an edge. She sits back, pushing away the rest of her tears, taking a breath as a wisp of magic wafts gently across her face to clear away whatever's left.
Truthfully, the thought of meeting more people makes her feel tired, but luckily that is a problem for another day, and not an immediate requirement.
"Oh?" she asks, nearly as though the last few moments hadn't happened. Her cup floats back to her hands. "I assume you mean someone different from the boy who tried to threaten me in the woods."
He watches her pull herself back together, and isn't that familiar too? For as much as they both have changed, there are some fundamental pieces that feel like they may never really change all that much. He thinks it's a comforting thought.
His expression turns faintly sheepish, and he shakes his head. "No, I do not mean Peter. Magic in his world is an entirely different thing it would seem." A smile surfaces once more, subtle but maybe surprisingly warm. "He is... a bit protective at times. It is hard to fault him for it, given the pieces of my memories and fears that this place has dragged him through. But he is a good man, and very important to me." The faintest twitch of his little finger, as if tugging on some unseen string -- which is exactly what it's doing, that red soulmate string that is visible only to Peter and him that connects them wherever they may be. "I would like the two of you to meet... on better terms."
As Caleb isn't trying to hide it, it's not difficult to see that smile, or the warmth within it. It's one that conjures up memories of her own, ones she holds dear but has long accepted them as securely in the past. Still, she can only wonder at what it could be about the young man she had met in the woods that he's become so dear so quickly.
Her initial impression hadn't been good, protective intentions or no. Foolish and arrogant, in the way that youth often is.
She sips her tea, making a noncommittal, if unconvinced, sound.
"Hm. Sometime, perhaps. Is there anything in particular about the magic in this place I should know, if you care to share?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Left on her doorstep, Mid-December
Even in circumstances that are so complicated it's nigh on painful.
So Astrid will find a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with ribbon. The note attached reads simply, in Zemnian. 'A small thing to help you settling in. - Caleb'
Inside the package is a bundle of fine paper (feel the linen thread count oooh) and a quill and bottle of ink. Caleb knows he was annoyed not to have any of this when he'd arrived here.]
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And so she's not quite prepared for the wave of emotion upon opening the gift. She's already resolved to use the enforced down time away from her duties to resume some projects left too long, even if it means having to start over from memory. The paper will be put to good use. Caleb has even managed to find a quill that suits her preference, and Astrid can't help the memory of a similar gift long ago, surfacing for the first time in a very long time.
She arranges the paper and quill and ink neatly on the small desk, staring at it for a few moments before drawing a sigil in the air, touching two fingers to it and then to her lips as she casts a Sending message to Caleb: ]
Thank you for the thoughtful gift, it is very much appreciated. [ a short pause. ] You are always welcome to knock on my door.
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You are very welcome. I hope they will be of use. [The words that come next are more surprising.
Surprising, but not unwelcome.] Then I will try that next time. Perhaps tomorrow? I will bring tea.
[Now look what you've done, Astrid.]
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Thank you. Yes, tomorrow, whenever you are free. I will be here.
There are some things I would like to ask you about.
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Mid-morning then. I will answer what I'm able to.
[A pause.]
I will see you tomorrow. I look forward to it.
[And true to his word, Caleb does arrive sometime around eleven the next morning, wrapped in his scarf and coat, a small basket in one hand. This time he does indeed knock, stepping back to wait.
He's nervous, but when isn't he these days? That anxiety never really loosens its grip fully, though he is at least less jumpy looking than their initial meeting here.]
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Astrid still hasn't quite gotten past the way her heart gives a particularly hard beat in her chest any time she opens the door to him. Her smile is more in her eyes than her lips as she gestures him in. The cottage is very modest, with only an open front room, a small kitchen, and bedroom. A fireplace burns warmly, with two chairs near it. A table between them is already stacked neatly with a few books, and a desk in the corner holds more, along with the parchment and pen and ink he had given her. In the center is a notebook, already well worn and more than halfway filled, something from home.
"Thank you for coming," she gestures to the chairs by the fire. "Would you like something warm to drink?"
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The modest abode is oddly comforting; they're both from the smaller villages of the Empire, after all.
"Thank you for having me. I've been hoping to meet, but didn't want to intrude while you were settling in." Also he's a coward, so a little prompting was required. "And yes, please. I've brought some tea." He holds out the basket. Inside is an herbal tea blend, something with a hint of spice and cinnamon that seemed appropriate for the weather.
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Astrid accepts the basket and inspects the tea. It smells warming and familiar, and she makes an appreciative noise.
"Thank you - please sit and I'll be there in a moment."
And a minute or two later, she returns with a small teapot and two mugs, setting the teapot near the hearth for a moment to move the books from the table to the desk. Finally she settles herself in the other chair, cups and teapot taking the place of the books.
"So," she begins carefully, hands folding on her knee. "You said before that you have already been here several months. But since our last meeting, I've been wondering about the difference in time between us."
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As Astrid returns, Caleb sits up straighter, reaching for one of the cups to cradle in his hands, letting the heat seep through into his fingers. He watches her, looking curious as she begins.
He nods. "It is a good question." His gaze drops to his tea as if trying to remember what their last encounter in Exandria was. He's not, of course. Caleb remembers everything, even the things he sometimes wishes he could forget. It had not been an easy night, the last time he had seen Astrid and Eadwulf. "The last time I saw you, back home, we'd had dinner with Trent, at his invitation. I wound up in this place only a few days later."
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"I see," she says. There's relief in having it confirmed, but also a sense of loss and confusion. How to reconcile the differences between them, now?
"That was several months ago, for me. Many things are...different, now." The glance to the ring on his finger is unintentional, but too late once she realizes. "For both of us. I admit I...am not sure what to do. If you wish to know what has happened, or might happen, for you, or if perhaps you have simply...left it all behind?"
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So much can happen in a matter of months, and Caleb does not miss the way her gaze strays to the ring on his finger. Her question strikes home, but Astrid has always been a sharp-edged thing, a brilliant mind. Caleb looks down once more at his tea before mustering his courage to meet her gaze once more. "I won't pretend that I have not found a home here. The knowledge that another piece of myself remains in my place to continue on, that has helped. But that does not mean I do not care about what will happen, what will become of the loose ends and goals still remaining. I would very much wish to know what has transpired or will transpire."
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She takes a breath, fixes her eyes on his again. A lovely, familiar blue she never stopped seeing in her dreams.
"The short version is that you succeeded. You, and your friends, in your mission in the north. And afterward, we brought down our dear teacher."
no subject
At least until Astrid speaks, and then everything distils down to those words. He'd known they were going into danger, and to know they actually managed it is a weight off his shoulders. But it's the mention of their teacher that steals the breath straight from his lungs like a physical blow to the chest. Eventually he finds his voice again. "Good. That... yes, good." Profound, Caleb. Genuinely. But more importantly. "And if 'we' did it... that is even better."
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"We did," she reaffirms, taking her tea again and holding it between her hands. "I have taken his place on the Assembly." Astrid falls quiet a moment, not entirely sure what else feels right to share. Do the details even matter, as far away as they are now? When things are clearly very different for him?
"Is there anything else you'd want to know?"
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He sits up in his chair, setting his teacup aside and clasping his hands in front of him. "I wish to know everything, typically. But in particular, I care for the fate of my friends, but you've given me that already." He pauses, taking his time to put together his next words.
"And us? Is there some hope for my counting you as one of those friends?"
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"...yes." A faint smile flickers in and out. "In fact you've settled in Rexxentrum, so we see each other often. So far you've resisted my requests to take up a teaching position at the academy."
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That smile, faint as it may be, brings an answering one to his face. "Good, very good. And you will have to keep working on me, I imagine. I'm very stubborn." Well, at least he's self-aware.
"I hope we can continue that here too. Isolation in this place is not only unpleasant, it's potentially full of dire consequences."
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The curl of her lips stays a little longer this time, less pained and more knowing, her eyes a little brighter now.
"You are," she agrees. "But I will outlast you, on this account." It helps that she's certain it's what he wants, too.
Astrid looks around the small cottage, from the already busy desk to the teapot and hearth, back toward the bedroom. It doesn't quite feel like hers, in the way this world doesn't quite feel entirely real sometimes. And in truth, she has isolated herself already, hasn't she?
"...I would like that." Her brows furrow, looking down at her hands. "In truth I've...not spent much time on my own. I needed some time to think...and this cottage has been good for that. But in reality, I'm out of practice, finding my way entirely on my own, without a goal to guide me." She pauses before adding quietly: "Or without Wulf."
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He follows her gaze around the small space before looking back to her once more, watching her face even as she gazes down at her hands. Eventually he leans over enough that he can set his hand atop hers.
"I care about you, Astrid. I think I always will. I regret so many things I have done in my life. Most things maybe. But I do not regret you. Or Eadwulf. I know I am not Wulf, but for what it may be worth, I am here."
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Perhaps it is her loneliness, the stress of this sudden transition, or everything all at once - but now, finally, Astrid lets those words sink into her, to mix with her memories of all the other times he tried to tell her, and finally hold onto them in the moment. Her eyes blur with tears, and they streak silently down her cheeks as she closes her eyes, teeth clenched hard against the ferocity of emotion.
She turns her hand to take his in return, and whispers. "It is more than I deserve."
Once more, she meets his gaze, to finally speak a truth long held in.
"We never stopped wanting you back, Bren. There was never a day that I didn't think about you."
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There's a smile, genuine, but with a tinge of sadness, at those words, at the sound of his name. In a kinder world, things could have been so very different.
"And that is more than I deserve," he answers, just as quietly.
Another squeeze of her fingers and he sits back, drawing his hands away slowly as he settles into his chair once more. "There are people I should introduce you to. Some of them are fascinating. There is one man I have been teaching magic. He has some talent for it." And he wants her to know Peter, too. And Vex, Vax, the rest of Vox Machina.
no subject
Truthfully, the thought of meeting more people makes her feel tired, but luckily that is a problem for another day, and not an immediate requirement.
"Oh?" she asks, nearly as though the last few moments hadn't happened. Her cup floats back to her hands. "I assume you mean someone different from the boy who tried to threaten me in the woods."
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His expression turns faintly sheepish, and he shakes his head. "No, I do not mean Peter. Magic in his world is an entirely different thing it would seem." A smile surfaces once more, subtle but maybe surprisingly warm. "He is... a bit protective at times. It is hard to fault him for it, given the pieces of my memories and fears that this place has dragged him through. But he is a good man, and very important to me." The faintest twitch of his little finger, as if tugging on some unseen string -- which is exactly what it's doing, that red soulmate string that is visible only to Peter and him that connects them wherever they may be. "I would like the two of you to meet... on better terms."
no subject
Her initial impression hadn't been good, protective intentions or no. Foolish and arrogant, in the way that youth often is.
She sips her tea, making a noncommittal, if unconvinced, sound.
"Hm. Sometime, perhaps. Is there anything in particular about the magic in this place I should know, if you care to share?"