formmusebox | for Peter (werewolfing) - Post-Folkmore Exandria AU

[Caleb opens his eyes back in Exandria. When he fell to sleep, he'd been safe and warm, held in Peter's arms. Where he belongs, where his heart had come to know was where he was meant to be, in any and all worlds. Now though, now he finds himself opening his eyes in a moment that is familiar, but feels distant. The last moment he'd been in Wildemount before he'd found himself snatched away by the Fox and her request that wasn't quite a request so much as a command. It's disorienting, like being dropped into a deep pool of cold water, not entirely sure which way gravity properly existed, no memory of how to breathe like this.

He takes stock almost desperately. Yes, this is his own world. There's a terrible moment where he wonders if all that time in Folkmore had been some incredibly vivid dream. But no, that's wrong. It's impossible. His imagination has never been so talented, and his heart knows all too well that it was real -- the people he'd met there, the things he'd done. Peter. Immediately Caleb reaches for that bond that has kept them in each other's minds, the comforting, warm presence of his lover. 'Peter!' But no answer comes. It feels like the connection is still there, some vague promise that somewhere, across whatever realms and worlds may be, Peter Rumancek is still alive. He looks quickly to the red string around his pinky -- and it's still there, still tied securely, but it trails off into nothing after only a few inches, connected to nothing.

No. No. The frantic sound he nearly chokes on wakes Veth, and she's quick to ask him what's wrong. He tries to explain it, he really does, to Veth, to the others. Again and again. But they don't know what to make of it. They know that Caleb has been here all this time, had he been dreaming? He tries to assure them that no, he hasn't been dreaming, he's been in another world all together, for months, longer. His friends are kind, and they humor him -- or they worry. Caleb knows they're worried. He tries to pick up and move on.

Time passes, and there's a new and somehow deeper sadness in Caleb, a new loss that is fresher than his older regrets and sorrows. He's quieter, and his friends notice him fidgeting with his fingers lost in thought, the small one where that limp invisible red string is wrapped, his ring finger that feels so empty without the simple band that Peter had placed there.

By day, he keeps going. They have important goals to accomplish, things that cannot go neglected. But oh the nights are hard. Cold and empty. Sleep barely comes, and when it does, there are dreams of beautifully blue eyes and a rakish smile, a face that he fears even with his keen mind he might be forgetting. A month passes, longer.

They've returned to Zadash to check in with the Gentleman -- Jester's father, apparently, so there's that -- a sort of returning to their roots, the place they had begun. Caleb is there, physically, but there's still a distance about him, as if his mind is elsewhere. It is, of course. It's chasing his heart, which never did make the trip back to Exandria with him.

They make their way down into the Gentleman's lair, greeted warmly by their crime-boss sometimes-patron. Caleb is silent, lingering in the back of the group as conversation spins up in cheerful catching up.

What the wizard doesn't notice is that his familiar has wandered off, Frumpkin quite certain that he's caught a very familiar scent. The small orange cat seems intent on finding something, on a feline mission with his wizard's best intentions at heart.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

werewolfing

[ peter had spent exactly two hours searching for caleb by every bond they had when he woke up in a shitty inn in a dank part of an unfamiliar town at far too early o'clock in the morning. at least he has his clothes on (he definitely did not fall asleep in them), his sturdy boots and all his jewelry. that, of course, he immediately takes off, tucking it safely into the pocket of his jeans before creeping down the stairs and out of the inn.

the city, he learns, is called zadash, on the continent of wildemount. he's in fucking exandria. peter's not sure whether to laugh or cry, so he spends a few minutes in a truly disgusting alley doing both before wiping his face, pulling his hair back properly, and going deeper into the dingy part of town. no point in going the other direction; he has no money, and his clothes are completely wrong for passing as any sort of upstanding citizen here.

not that peter has ever passed as any sort of upstanding citizen in the first place.

but even the slums are a place to pickpocket, especially at night when fools deep in their cups get tossed out of bars. his people have been cutting purses since time immemorial, and peter is usually kind enough to only lighten the sodden wretches' purses by half. it's enough to eat, and then to buy clothes that actually blend in. he steals a dagger out of a still-warm body - whoever put it there didn't care enough to take it back, and needs must. peter has never been squeamish, and lately he doesn't feel much of anything at all, even though he can't stop the tic of twitching his pinky finger.

this turns out to be what gets him accidentally recruited. apparently, the dagger's previous owner recognizes the hilt in peter's belt, and a week later, with the help of a few friends, beats peter about the head enough to make him amenable to being dragged into a dingy pub to meet with a exceedingly polite and well dressed shark of a man who happens to be blue and rather sweaty. even with his nose numbed from the stink of the streets, the gentleman still smells of the sea. along with the concussion, the gentleman gives peter a job.

he settles into the mercenary life as well as can be expected, following the well trod if stereotypical path of his ancestors, even if it barely feels like he's living at all. it turns out that as a human, peter is a clean killer; he like daggers and shadows. he still has his familiar abilities, and it doesn't take long for him to learn the forms of a rat and a crow, both of which are plentiful in the area and easy to use for sneaking into all sorts of places. he doesn't love being a crow--exandria seems to be fucking with him right and proper because it's his own world that names crows as seers and messengers of the dead, damn it all. it's what he gets for dying a few times, he supposes, with a vague hope that the raven queen isn't taking that too personally, since it wasn't here. most of his feelings are vague.

his senses aren't vague, though. his nose is blind to the smell of all manner of waste, but he can scent every being in any given room, and further if it's clean. this is his real value to the gentleman, the ability to change shape, to have sharp hearing and a wolf's sense of smell. it makes him good at security and stealth, though he's had to put his good boots away in favor of ones with softer soles that barely make a sound moving over stone or wood.

peter is sitting at a table toward the back of the leaky tap, the hood of his cloak up to keep his face in shadow. his hands wrap around the ale he's drinking, fingerless gloves covering his rings. after figuring out that the local water didn't particularly agree with him, peter's developed a hell of an alcohol tolerance, which means he sleeps like absolute shit. too many of his dreams are filled with caleb, and sometimes peter wakes up absolutely sure that the smell of the other man hangs on his dingy pillow.

he's on security right now, just in case the brute intimidation isn't enough. eyes aren't needed for this work, and peter just lets his mind float away until the sounds or scents in the room change. he may as well be a wolf in truth, guarding his master while napping at the hearth. the sound of a crowd of people entering doesn't make him raise his head. they're certainly loud, but they don't reek of anger or fear, and the gentleman can handle the politics of any other kind of ill intent on his own.

peter knows he hallucinates sometimes, imagining caleb's scent, so when the pack of loud travelers brings that in with them he doesn't look up. but then, a very familiar ginger cat hops straight up into his lap and begins to purr and knead his thigh, and peter's pinky finger tics.

this time, the thread pulls taut, and he looks up, frozen. ]

Iubit?

From:

ausgebrannt

[Caleb has fallen deep enough into himself that he does not notice that Frumpkin has trotted off an errand of his own. He's half keeping an ear to the conversation that the rest of his friends are having, making certain that he at least is aware of what is going on and what trouble they might be finding their way into this time. He really ought to pay closer attention, but it's hard to make himself care in this moment.

He feels the tug of the thread at his finger, but he's felt that phantom twitch before, wishful thinking or a memory of the comforting feeling growing a bit too vivid. He's quite ready to ignore it, but the pull remains taut and his heart aches sharply. If he turns and sees nothing, it'll shatter something in him further, where it's already in pieces inside him. So instead he shuts his eyes and takes a breath to steady himself, stays still, damn near motionless.

Until he hears that voice. Then all the breath vacates his lungs at once as he turns abruptly, eyes wide and almost desperate in their hope, scanning the dimly lit room until he sees--]

Peter?

[He can barely summon up enough breath to whisper the name, taking a faltering step towards the hooded figure still in shadow, then another, another, following that thread as his heart tries its best to vacate his chest through his ribcage.

It's Peter. Here. Is he dreaming again?]

Mondschein?

From:

werewolfing

[ peter is frozen until caleb takes his first step, and then he's moving, standing from his already pushed-back chair silently and brushing his hood off absently as he closes the distance between them, caleb's scent flooding his nose until it's the entire world. ]

Caleb. Oh my god, iubit, finally.

[ in the middle of a crime syndicate pub and completely oblivious to their audience, peter wraps caleb in a hug that is clearly actually clinging, and buries his face in the other man's neck.

then his mind bursts open, and he nearly staggers with the new strangeness and sweet relief of not being alone in his head anymore. he can't tell what either of them are feeling, or if they're just feeling the same crushing sorrow and spun-glass-fragile hope and the sort of bone-deep resonance of home and love and mine. some faraway part of peter is aware that he's silently sobbing onto caleb's shoulder, but that seems insignificant at the moment. ]

Please tell me this is real, iubit. Tell me I'm not dreaming.

From:

ausgebrannt

[Frumpkin hops off Peter's lap but trots along after him, with an impressive amount of feline smugness at having found his wizard's soulmate, twining himself about both their legs once they've properly embraced.

And it certainly is a proper embrace. Caleb wraps his arms around Peter like he's half terrified the other man will vanish, will be ripped straight from him if he does not hold tight. He winds his arms around his neck, fingers sinking into his hair. His head turns to bury his face against Peter's hair as an audible gasp rips from him as that connection that has been so silent and so empty flares to life and Peter floods into his mind.

He can't tell where their emotions begin and end, relief and fear, the lingering ache of that emptiness and the rush of wild hope. Caleb has forgotten everything save for the man in his arms -- where they are, his friends who by now have noticed his absence and are watching him hold to this stranger like he is the only lifeline in a storm that Caleb has nearly lost himself to.]

It has to be real. You have to be real. My gods you're here. I've missed you. I've missed you so desperately. How are you here? Are you all right?

[He's rambling; he knows that. And Peter is not the only one currently sobbing.]

From:

werewolfing

Woke up in some shit inn instead of our room. Guess the Fox decided that my potential lay elsewhere? I don't fucking know, wasn't really in the kind of mind to ask questions. The string--I knew you were somewhere, but the world's a big place. Figured one of us should stay in one place, if you were back with your nein.

[ he lifts his face, wet and red around the eyes, and lets go of caleb enough to guide his head up with a gentle, callused hand until they're looking each other in the face. resting their foreheads together, peter almost manages a smile. ]

I have something of yours that you goddamn better want back. But I'd have to stop touching you to take off my glove, and fuck that for at least five more minutes.

From:

ausgebrannt

I thought I had lost you. I thought I would never see you again.

[Even his mental voice sounds choked with tears. But Peter is here, solid and real in his arms, warm as he's ever been. Caleb doesn't want to let Peter out of his arms for a moment right now, but he loosens his hold just enough to lift his head at that gentle urging, eyes opening to take in his face, those features that he loves, that he's missed so much.

At the mention of the nein, he does remember that his friends are there. That can wait for the time being. A quiet sob of a laugh at those next words.]

Of course I want it back. And I will enchant a new ring for you. My love. I have missed you so much.

[A pause as it does occur to him where they are and what that means, and what he says next is out loud, and somewhere between startled and amused.]

You're working for the Gentleman?

From:

werewolfing

You should know better by now, pretty flame. I've got more lives than a cat and they're all with you.

[ peter gives a wet little laugh at caleb immediately promising to enchant him a new ring. the fact that they're making a scene still doesn't occur to him--the only thing that matters is that his soulmate is here, now, surrounding him with the scent of wildfire and ink. ]

You better. I just about lost my mind when I woke up and it was gone.

[ caleb's startled statement makes peter laugh more genuinely. ]

You're shocked that the miscreant Rom ended up here? I'm a very good guard wolf cause the Familiar stuff stuck, and I learned pickpocketing and shoplifting on my grandfather's literal knee. Discovered I like daggers, the Gentleman likes having someone who can hear what's happening upstairs and smell anyone who doesn't belong here, and a fuckoff huge wolf makes a statement when you need one.

[ he knocks his forehead gently against caleb's. ]

Needed something to do while I was waiting for you to wander in, and the Gentleman works with all sorts.

From:

ausgebrannt

[Caleb's heart thrills at the sound of that laugh. He's missed everything about Peter so desperately, the sight and sound and scent of him. The feeling of those arms around him. It's the first time he's felt whole and home since he woke up in Exandria.]

I will. I like seeing it on your finger.

[That small sign that Peter is his. As much as he likes the ring on his own finger for that same reason. His heart is fully taken, given freely and willingly to this beautiful man with a wolf looking out from behind his eyes.]

My favorite miscreant. [He agrees happily, tilting his chin just enough to graze his lips over Peter's, barely a touch at all.] I am not letting you go again.

[And off to his left, just behind him, there's a sound of a throat clearing, a gentle but insistent ahem and a little blue tiefling looking at this reunion about to burst from the effort of giving them the time and not interrupting when she has so many questions.]

From:

werewolfing

So do I. And you have no idea how much I missed those damn lights. Kept trying to set them off out of habit.

[ at the moment, peter's eyes are crinkled at the corners, smiling at caleb more clearly than his mouth. the wolf seems close in his eyes, not quite the wise one but not the vargulf ether, more like an intelligent alpha predator, even though there's only adoration for caleb in his gaze. his normal scruff is a beard now, and his hair is pulled into a secure bun low on his head, even if there are somehow still stray bits falling out around his face. ]

Like I'm ever letting you go?

[ peter glances over caleb's shoulder at the little tiefling who is clearly about to combust, and the rest of the strange crowd caleb arrived with. ]

With you in a minute.

[ then he lifts caleb off his feet and spins him around as though he weighs nothing at all, puts him down on the floor, and kisses him with the most furious tenderness he's capable of with his clothes on. ]

From:

ausgebrannt

[Caleb wants to hear everything that has happened for Peter since he's been here, to know that he's truly been okay. The Gentleman may be a criminal kingpin, but he is a fair one so long as he's met with honesty, so there is some reassurance in that. If anyone had dared to try to harm his soulmate, Caleb would not hesitate to find them and make them regret their choices.

For now though he'll hold onto the relief that Peter is in his arms whole and smiling at him with those endlessly blue eyes.]

Good.

[He starts to glance over his shoulder when Peter speaks to someone, but is distracted in the next moment by the arms tightening around him. A laugh -- all relief and affection -- slips free as he's spun, arms winding around Peter in turn. The kiss steals his breath, trips his heart and reminds him what it is to be alive and loved and home, and he kisses Peter back with all the relief and desperation and yearning that he's nearly overflowing with.

Meanwhile his friends are just plain staring at their wizard and his apparently very-real dream boyfriend.]

From:

werewolfing

[ peter wants to know everything, wants to tell everything; now that caleb is in his arms it seems utterly untenable that caleb doesn't know it all already, that he doesn't know where his soulmate has been or what he's been up to. but this isn't the place or time, especially now that he's remembered there's an audience.

which doesn't at all stop him from kissing caleb until they're both half senseless with love and relief, but it does mean that he stops after a good minute. after staring into caleb's eyes for another, he pulls away enough that they can both face the nein, as well as the gentleman, without loosening his hold on caleb any more than he must. ]

All right, questions now, little blue one.

From:

ausgebrannt

[Somewhere in the midst of the kiss Caleb manages to forget entirely where they are once again. Peter has that effect on him, and his absence seems to have only made that power stronger. He's breathless by the time the kiss ends, any words that may have made it through their bond replaced by a wash of nothing but emotion of love and relief and joy so strong that it physically hurts. He has his heart back, the greater piece of his soul.

When Peter addresses Jester though, he does remember, and even if he makes no move to put any distance between them, he does turn to look at his friends, having the decency to look vaguely sheepish.]

This is Peter, my-- [His heart, his life, his husband in all but paperwork, but he gets to say none of this because the aforementioned little blue one is piping up.]

Oh my god. You're the dream boyfriend! And you're real. And handsome! [A gentle poke at the wizard's back.] Good job Caleb.

I'm Jester. Caleb talked a lot about you. We were a little worried he was going crazy, but it's really great he isn't. But oh right, this is everybody. I'm sure Caleb talked all about us too, and how basically awesome we are.

From:

werewolfing

[ peter does not look sheepish in the slightest. instead, he looks entirely unrepentant and a bit possessive. ]

Soulmate. The word Caleb was looking for is soulmate. And I'm not a dream, I just have a fuckin weird life.

Is two men getting married a thing here, iubit? Cause if we're going to end up on insane adventures, we should do it properly.

[ he keeps his eyes on jester, which isn't difficult considering how bouncy she is, and gives a little smile. ]

Hi Jester. Good to put a name to a whole lot of wild stories. You smell like pastries, so points to you. Lemme guess the rest. The pretty one with the buttons is Caleb's beloved Veth, Muscles McAbs over there is Beauregard, Caduceus has the extremely good hair and smells like delicious herbs I have never even conceived of, Fjord is the pirate--yes, I know you're all technically pirates--and Yasha could break me in half with one hand and look terrifyingly hot doing it.

[ he gestures at each of them as the not-really-guessing game goes on, the fingers of his other hand twining through caleb's ponytail, curling and uncurling coppery strands between his fingers. ]

for Peter (werewolfing) - Post-Folkmore Exandria AU

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