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“And how have you set this chamber to work? Are these possibilities and parallels from your own imagination?”
It’s a peaceful evening in the tower. Caleb and Essek’s day had, thankfully, been uneventful between sorting through collected manuscripts and recovering a few interesting artifacts.
“Ohh, I don’t know about that.”
Caleb blows out a breath.
“But then again, no one has been up here entirely without me.”
They lie in loungewear side by side best they can, floating in the space making up the tower’s ninth floor. Essek has his hands folded comfortably over his stomach whereas Caleb’s, best Essek can tell, are interlocked behind his head. Essek stares up into stars upon reflections upon reflections upon stars.
“Are you implying that everyone sees the same reflections then, regardless of your presence?”
“I don’t believe that can be determined in these particular circumstances, as you’d be the only one to bear witness, my friend. Besides, I’m sure you, of all people, are aware of other means to observe potential.”
The aperture beneath them lies closed, and a darkness like the clearest half moon night rests gently around them.
Essek raises an eyebrow at the suggestion despite knowing Caleb likely can’t see with enough detail to make it out.
“Surely there is no dunamis deliberately embedded into the weave of this tower.”
“And what convinces you of that?”
“And what makes you think you can convince me, among the highest in my field, otherwise?”
Caleb’s laugh rings through the air, filling the entire space. It’s a sound Essek has come to treasure, one he wants to cause more often.
“Scientific method to the rescue. What is your hypothesis, Essek?”
“Hm.”
Essek considers, running a finger along his lips, relishing in taking his time, now that they seem to have it for the moment.
“I am unsure if you can truly assign dunamis to a specific location during the construction of this plane without... impacting the entirety of it, so I can’t vouch for that solution as I haven’t noticed any other definitively dunamis-adjacent effects elsewhere.
“A much simpler explanation would be along the lines of an immersive arcane illusion, as I’m aware of methods that can show things only the viewer knows or perceives.”
“So you doubt my skills as a dunamancer and think it is all a fancy illusion?”
There’s a challenge to Caleb’s words, but no heat behind them.
Essek shrugs, a smug grin pulling at his lips.
“Why not?”
With a not-so-entirely academic tone, Caleb begins their study.
“Time to put it to the test. I’ll pick an image that has something only I should know about. What do you see in… that one?”
The reflection Caleb points out is close to an exact replication of them, thank the gods, but Caleb’s unbound hair lies across his other shoulder.
Essek tells him so.
“Interesting. In that one I see you holding a book.”
“Which title?”
“Hm, I don’t think I’ll say.”
“A brazen slight against a fellow academic.”
“I was thinking it more akin to a tease.”
“Premeditated?”
“Maybe.”
“Then perhaps they are based upon our own independent imaginations. Illusion it is.”
Caleb gives a dramatic sigh of defeat through the laugh in his voice.
“So it would seem. Write it down so it’s proper research.”
Essek traces out letters in the air, leaving behind fading grey lines for flair.
“I suppose that will have to do.”
Essek can hear the smile in Caleb’s voice.
“Your mind will remember.”
“That it will.”
Essek takes solace in knowing that Caleb does not share his reflections. Less so that they’re assuredly from his own imagination, as some of them he’s certain he’ll keep to himself. No need to impose with empty notions.
Most are mundane- simple reflections with minute differences, as if this moment already is what he imagines it should be.
Beyond that, there are a few that deviate from this pattern, those that draw a familiar icy ache to Essek’s hands. A linked pinkie here, a brushed shoulder there. A held hand, oh my. Scandalous, he wryly thinks to himself.
It’s more convoluted than that, he knows. Ice turned steam can burn just as bad as fire, after all. And there are more pressing matters at hand, vague as they may be. More challenges that aren’t as simply dealt with, internal difficulties that deserve to be solved first, that prevent him from reaching out deliberately.
He and Caleb may be evenly matched, but Essek is still unsure if that means they are balanced.
Regardless, this arrangement is already comfortable, separate as he and Caleb are.
There are other reflections on occasion, still, that Essek keeps to the far corner of his vision, a far corner of his mind. As if looking directly at them would be like staring into the sun. As if thinking too much about them would be like touching open flame.
In one that has caught his attention this time, they’re not indecent, necessarily; he won’t allow himself to think that far, despite how persistent the fraction of Jester in his mind may be.
It’s just that a curtain of red hair (turned a pretty shaded white-gold in this light, or lack thereof) surrounds Essek’s face, obscuring it from his own view. If he wants to, he can guess what is occurring beyond that. He has imagination enough for it, not that he has much experience putting it into proper use past certain literature. Again, with as much sarcasm as fondness, thank you, Jester.
It’s better to think on other things, though. A less whimsical use of time.
Like their present conversation.
Essek finds that their flirting—this is what they are doing, in their own way, he’s pretty sure—comes easily enough because he wants to play along. It's different from needling investigation disguised as affections he had no desire for or one-sided, misplaced fawning he grew to actively avoid. And to tease is one matter, but to flirt and to want it reciprocated? Uneasy ground, but Essek is now content to walk it with Caleb, especially since they have been alone together in these ruins, rather than accompanied by kind-but-nosy friends and less-than-stable trust.
“Back to my question though, as I’m sure you remember it. Were you expecting we’d share reflections?”
And luckily, Caleb seems able to fluently speak Essek’s own tongue of metaphor.
“Expect isn’t quite the word. Perhaps hope. Desire, even. As a clearer demonstration of your lessons put to use, of course. Understanding the combined potentiality and intent of a moment between individuals.”
It’s friendly competition, a game. Unspoken rules of victory pertaining to who gets the last word, who conveys the strongest sentiment, who flusters first. There doesn’t need to be anything else beyond it in order for it to be entertaining. Essek rarely holds such inclinations.
Not never, but rarely.
He dips his voice, just a bit, just enough to tease.
“Well, Caleb. I’m sure we can find a way for the images to sync together.”
Caleb clears his throat.
“With dunamis or with linked imagination?”
Essek lets his tone fall nonchalant.
“I was assuming the former initially but now I very much would like to know if they would match up with telepathy.”
“Maybe another time.”
“Surely your curiosity hasn’t run dry.”
“Never.”
And Essek laughs easily at that, lets the delight of another victory fill the sound.
They fall back into comfortable silence.
Essek is definitely not thinking about the one particular reflection stuck in the corner of his vision, even though it’s become very loud in his mind’s eye.
He begins to count stars, avoiding reflections.
This effort is decidedly ineffective, so much so that he looks the other way entirely from that reflection, only to meet Caleb’s eyes when he turns.
The darkness has stolen the blue from them, a pity, but they still shine regardless.
“What is it?”
Essek asks this out of genuine curiosity, mostly. That one reflection is quite a stubborn thought.
“Hm?”
“You’re staring.”
“Am I? I can’t see very well in the dark.”
There’s a soft tease woven into Caleb’s words, his smile.
Oh?
“Cheeky.”
Essek manages just the one word. Maybe he’s not the only one with such a thought.
“Perhaps.”
It’s barely a whisper, barely a breath against Essek’s face.
Caleb is awfully close in the dark, certainly closer than before, turned to Essek, propping a forearm on nothing.
So Essek lets complications turn to background noise. Lets himself think of new touch, because what else could those now-not-blue eyes be asking when they keep looking to his lips?
Surely Caleb’s vision isn’t so limited at this proximity? To the extent that he misplaces his gaze in such a way?
Surely this isn’t entirely undesired?
Thus far, touch has been a spark here, a cinder there, a lingering ember on occasion. Sometimes an all-encompassing smolder. All fleeting hands, arms, casual and pragmatic motions, and a kiss for a forehead and cheek. Nothing quite like what this feels like it could be.
It has been so very long since Essek has considered anything remotely like this. Let himself consider anything like this.
And so he’s almost bold enough to hope.
Perhaps this won’t burn, won’t hurt. Perhaps it will be tolerable if it does. Perhaps this will be alright.
A curtain of red hair (turned a pretty shaded white-gold) blocks out the starlight, tickles his face, his ears, and there’s a gravity in this floating space.
And so Essek imagines, as he stares at Caleb like the sun. He sees reflections change to match before he has to close his eyes entirely.
But there is no burn of contact because Caleb pulls away in a rush, flushed. Essek is certain he looks much the same in a different shade, though he’s unsure if Caleb can see him well enough at his new distance in the darkness to tell.
Essek clears his throat and works a chuckle into his words, trying to bring back the easy rapport despite his pounding heart.
“I don’t care much for being teased in this regard, Caleb. The stars are rather nice when I’m able to see them.”
“No, it’s--”
And Caleb sighs, scrubs at his lower face. Frustration? But his expression seems too soft, too sad to be only that.
“I’m sorry. It’s not a tease. I don’t want to get carried away. I need to get things in order now we are without the ticking clock, without immediate danger.”
Something has changed in the atmosphere, flavoring it solemn, and Essek sits up as much he can given there is no solid ground below him.
Confusion and curiosity twang in his mind.
“Go on?”
Caleb arranges himself upright as well and lets out another heavy breath.
“I don’t… know… when, or, or if, there will be a fitting time for this.”
“For what?”
“For this.”
And Caleb gestures between the two of them, brows furrowed, upturned.
“I mean this with no intricacies. Whatever it is we’ve built. Whatever it is we’re building.”
Oh, this topic of conversation is indisputably not one of Essek’s strong suits.
“What do you mean... by ‘a fitting time’?”
What makes now different from just before?
Caleb’s brows furrow further.
“I cannot guarantee you that I will ever be in a position where anything beyond this can be sustainable, or not asking too much of you.”
He winces with his words, as if the act of expelling them scratches his throat raw.
Why?
“This…”
Essek copies Caleb, gestures between them.
“This need not… change? I am…”
Essek considers his words with care, weighing synonyms and connotations as the currency of this exchange.
“Deeply untroubled, as things stand.”
That’s one way of putting it, and it’s not untrue, either. It’s very true, in fact.
“Do you really want to stay like this, though?”
If Essek is guessing correctly, he’d say Caleb sounds incredibly doubtful. Does he think Essek doesn’t want to stay? Or that Essek shouldn’t stay?
Essek wracks his mind, trying to understand.
“Do you want me to… leave…?”
He’s honestly more perplexed than hurt. He thought they’d been getting along fine.
He hasn’t done anything affronting as far as he is aware. He hadn’t even flinched or froze or fled- if anything, he was following Caleb’s lead. There are other things they could be facing first, certainly, but this can’t be so bad, can it?
“What-? No, Essek, I- invited you here.”
“Have I been an improper guest? Said or done something unwanted?”
Essek’s voice comes out sounding far more petulant than he intended. Maybe he does feel a little hurt. That won’t do.
“Essek--”
“No, just a moment, please.”
Essek takes a breath in the silence, centering himself.
Why is he hurt in the first place?
No matter. All is likely well, he’s only misunderstanding part of the puzzle.
He breathes out.
“Alright, go on.”
“I meant no harm.”
“I know.”
Caleb says nothing in response. He seems to be thinking, brows drawn, eyes averted, mouth making that particular squiggle Essek has spent this excursion becoming familiar with. And yet there’s something else.
Essek tilts his head, as if a new angle will help him read whatever emotions are playing across Caleb’s face. They’re unfamiliar, unnamed.
“I don’t think I’m understanding the problem.”
And Caleb sighs so heavily at that.
“That’s the thing. There isn’t one right now, really. It’s going too well.”
Essek lets out a laugh that can only be described as undignified.
“Caleb, I’m utterly confused.”
“Ja, okay, different method then.”
And then silence sits around them as Caleb thinks further.
This pause is anything but comfortable.
Essek feels it prickling at him as he runs his fingers along the seams at the end of his sleeves, waiting.
Caleb finally speaks up.
“Would you like to learn a secret?”
“Of yours?”
“Ja.”
“Then certainly.”
Caleb’s voice comes carefully, metered, each word seeming an uncertain step.
“Honestly, even with growing knowledge of dunamancy, I couldn’t… hadn’t, imagined this chamber could actually work any other way without illusion- mostly illusion.”
Ah, so Caleb had been wholly playful earlier. It’s equally reassuring and concerning, given the conversation’s turn.
Essek sinks into the layers of doublespeak like they’re as comfortable a fit as well-tailored robes. He has lived in them for all his years, after all.
“Is that now, or when the concept for this first settled itself into your mind?”
“The latter, but it still lingers in the former.”
Essek considers this silently as Caleb continues.
“The walls of glass are sturdy enough, tangible stuff at least, but the foundation?”
Caleb gestures to the closed aperture beneath them as they hover, suspended above.
“Not as solid as it could be.”
“Not from up here, perhaps.”
They could land, after all, rather than maintain this float of fancy.
“And what about beyond the panes around?”
Caleb raises a hand from tracing his brow, fingers splayed.
“Would you prefer something grander, beyond my current capabilities?”
Oh, Caleb… is that the issue?
Essek lets his voice soften.
“This is fine, plenty. I truly don’t mind, Caleb. It’s enough for me.”
“Is it?”
That same doubt from before fills Caleb’s words, but this time it almost sounds mournful when paired with his narrowed eyes.
Essek echoes this question to himself, looks around the chamber, wonders if the Calebs, his own other selves, reflected there can offer answers.
A parallel of that fateful ship's-belly exchange catches his eye.
Even as illusion, this chamber is still a stunning display of a comprehension far past anything he had dared to hope before catching a glimpse of—no, facing—it that night. He'd never thought his own influence would stare back at him in such a way, suspicion notwithstanding. Nonjudgmental, optimistic. Appreciated. But this is not about him. Even now, this is already beyond what he has spent time to earn.
So Essek nods.
“It is.”
But Caleb only stares back. Maybe Essek should elaborate.
“I am happy—grateful, really—to even have the opportunity to see your efforts like this.”
“Even if it’s built upon nothing but hot air? Able to be disturbed by shifting winds? Would you really be content with that?”
Is Caleb hoping for dedication and depth? But is that not already what they have?
“I think it would take more than an errant gust to dismiss what you have crafted here.”
“And what of you, Essek?”
“I can-.”
He can, what? He’s already stated his contentment. What can he offer?
“I will… help you. If you’d like. To find a way to form this into something more concrete over- over time. I certainly have… preparations, to make if this is- an avenue of study you wish to pursue in a different direction.”
The thin analogy stumbles with Essek’s uncertainty; truth should not sound so hollow. Clumsy.
“Hm.”
A thoughtful sound. Not a bad sign, necessarily. It may even be bordering on affirmative consideration.
Caleb’s voice is quiet when it returns, and he’s firmly looking away from Essek now. Look back, please look back, Essek does not ask.
“You could copy it from my spellbook. Make it into your own to share, weave dunamis all throughout as you see fit.”
A strange spike of fear strikes Essek’s stomach.
“Caleb, that--”
“It is only an option.”
“And who would I share something like this”-
Essek sweeps an arm wide through the air. Many reflections match his motion, and even more show the same disbelief on their faces.
-“with if not the one whose mind it came from?”
“I’m sure there will be others just as curious about it if it comes from you.”
Why does Caleb sound so resigned? As if it’s an inevitability that somehow overwrites the present.
“I doubt there will be anyone quite as engaging.”
“You never know, maybe one day someone will bumble in unassuming and entirely upend the way you thought things would go.”
‘You never know,’ they always say. ‘Maybe one day,’ they always say. Essek immediately tamps down the protective anger that flares around his heart in order to examine the hurt within it. He knows Caleb is not intending to be unkind with such pointed words, not when they seem to be causing him pain as well.
Essek’s earnest frustration with himself still remains, stinging in his eyes now.
What does Caleb want from this? What is he asking?
Is it reassurance that he’s looking for?
“I do know that they’d have to be rather exceptional if that’s the case, given the set precedent. The standard has never been higher, and it was very high before.”
“Was it now?”
“It really was.”
There’s a beat, and then Caleb laughs a sudden burst, mirth defined, snapping the tension in the air instantaneously.
Essek’s startled heart swoops involuntarily with relief, pulling a surprised laugh from him as well.
Was he successful?
Was that enough?
Around bubbling chuckles, Caleb eventually forces out a sentence.
“Do you- do you remember how I was when- when we- met?”
Visions of harnesses and mud, mixed with Light knows what else, within the pristine halls of the Lucid Bastion flash in Essek’s mind. He does not look to the reflections.
“… I’ll never forget it.”
Caleb wipes at his eyes, shoulders still bouncing.
“You have interesting taste, my friend.”
Had Essek known that day would have eventually led to this moment, he would have cleaned Caleb up on the spot if only to save himself the current indignity of this tease that he finds he really doesn’t mind after all. He can let Caleb laugh at his expense forever if it keeps that shine in his eyes and voice.
Amusement bleeds into Essek’s careful words.
“So it seems.”
Caleb nods, works through the rest of his laughs, before holding his shoulders higher and finally looking back to Essek. Upturned brows and a half grin.
“No, I know it all came later.”
A very slight sigh.
“I’m sorry, for being difficult about this. There’s-. Hm.”
He gives a tired smile, but it does reach his eyes.
“My mind is a complicated swim these days, as a dear friend of mine once said.”
Essek perks up. Is Caleb well enough for the game to continue?
Playing coy would likely be too much for now, so instead, Essek presents unassuming, nonchalantly curious to test the waters.
“And who might that have been?”
“You may know them, but they’ve changed quite a fair amount even between then and now.”
“For the better?”
In trying to be quick, there’s a soft sincerity around Essek’s question that he did not intend. This is not something he should ask about.
Regret almost solidifies before Caleb responds.
“As much as I can tell.”
Momentary insecurity gives way to feigned confidence.
“They sound rather agreeable then and, dare I say, clever.”
Caleb’s smile turns into a smirk.
“Among the best on both counts.”
That isn’t a denial, so Essek pushes further.
“Only among the best?”
“I’m unsure if I’m allowed to specify any further in present company.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
“I would never.”
Ah, there’s the limit.
Resigning to this defeat, Essek throws a single huff of a laugh to the air, voice quiet.
“In all fairness, I’m sure their current bearing is in no small part due to those they’ve made their company.”
Caleb hums, a sound of consideration.
“Would you like to know another secret?”
“Of course.”
“I really can’t see well in the dark.”
“Color me surprised.”
“Contrast helps. Hair and brows and eyes and teeth. Yes, if you smile like that it’s much easier to see. Everything else is shadow.”
“Noted.”
“Proximity helps as well.”
“I gathered as much.”
A vague worry of unsettled matters clings to Essek’s mind.
“Is there anything else?”
Is all truly well now? Has the upset been solved, or merely shelved?
Caleb pauses, makes that same thinking face, and a glint settles into his eyes.
“Maybe another time.”
“Surely you know my curiosity hasn’t run dry.”
“No, but I think it’s about time for dinner. Cover your eyes for a moment?”
Essek does so, already knowing what’s next.
“Auf.”
Light from the rest of the tower pours into the starry chamber as the iris below slides open, amber and gold muted around Essek’s shading fingers. He’s about to drop them to continue letting his eyes adjust when the light darkens again.
This is not an expected part of the process.
Several sensations follow in rapid succession.
First is a light rustle of fabric against itself, the telltale sound of motion.
Second is a jolt of warmth pressed against his forearm, familiar and burning.
Third is a soft, filamentary brush against the back of his hand, making his fingers twitch for further contact despite himself.
Fourth is a rougher brush married with a scalding rosette, held against his cheek. Quick as a breath, as it had been months before.
Ah.
And just like that, light returns. Essek lowers his hands.
And just like that, there is Caleb, color restored, cheeks red, hair red, eyes now-again-blue.
And again, Essek can’t fight the bashful smile he feels settle on his face.
And again, Essek accepts this, finds another cold sliver in his chest melt.
“Please know you’re welcome up here with or without me.”
Close by, Caleb’s voice is a murmur.
Essek clings to his own chilled fingers, doubt abated for the time being.
“I think I prefer the former.”
“We can workshop it together then, hm?”
With a quick pat and a smile, Caleb leaves a searing handprint on Essek’s upper arm as he descends.
Essek remains in the chamber for a moment longer, searching the reflections for one thought in particular, a different thought than before.
Willing it so, he spies it.
Side-by-side equals, hand in hand, comfortable.
There is a flutter in his chest and he will not yet name it hope.
Maybe one day.
He exits, leaving the chamber to its own starlight.