errenis | for blumenthal

The kitchen table makes a good place to sit as the kettle heats up and Caleb starts to prepare their meal. With how his life mapped out, there are a few fairly basic things he has had to learn rather late, and cooking is one of them.

"Exactly," he agrees, glancing up from where he is preparing their lamb to go into the oven. "But they are also around when you need them." Ida is sitting at his feet now, actually, staring up at him guilelessly. "I know you just want food," he tells her. "I am making our dinner now. Yours will come later."

His smile still lingers when he looks to Yussa again. "If you do not mind giving a little advice while you are here, I have a problem that could really benefit from your expertise, my friend. Not research related," he clarifies, knowing the sort of thing they typically help each other with. "There is a function at the Academy next week. Formal, ostentatious, and many of my least favorite people will probably be there. Unfortunately, I am required to be there also." That smile becomes a grimace. "I am wondering if you would help me decide what to wear. My wardrobe is very limited, but I am certain you can pull together something better from it than I could."

Yussa is intrigued when Caleb clarifies that it is not an arcane matter for which he seeks advice, but one of fashion. The archmage considers his younger colleague and gives a small nod.

"Of course I will lend what assistance I can."

He rises to find mugs for both of them as the kettle begins to whistle. Yussa plucks it up and deftly pours them each a cup. He examines the offerings from the Blooming Grove with a look of quiet, but clear excitement at the prospect of tasting it. Satisfied with his blend and Caleb's, Yussa retreats back to the table.

"What is the occasion?" he asks with the sort of mild curiosity that belies his interest.

"Thank you," Caleb says, relieved. Mostly he is glad that someone with a better sense for these things is going to just tell him what to wear. He'd found the prospect of dressing himself for an event like this quite daunting. He's worn the single nice set of robes he owns several times already. While he thinks it should be perfectly acceptable for him to continue wearing them, he's been informed otherwise by several sources.

After being quietly charmed by Yussa's obvious interest in his tea selection--and recalling vividly that the offer of similar tea was what won the Nein an audience with him int he first place--Caleb accepts his own cup with a nod and soft danke. He takes a sip before setting it aside so he can continue dinner prep as they talk.

"Headmaster Margolin," he says, with a sourness that indicates his opinion on the man, "has recently appointed one of the Martinet's annexes to the position of Deputy Headmaster. As always, the Academy's business is the Assembly's business." Of course it is, when Margolin is one of the eight himself. "This event is a particularly stuffy welcoming party for yet another pawn who has no business running a school."

Yussa hides his amusement over Caleb's tone behind a sip of tea.

"I look forward to their eventual humiliation and downfall," he says lightly. Margolin is in a tenuous position and it's impressive that he has not been unseated given the utter nightmare of Trent Ikithon's trial and deposition. Yussa suspects it is a matter of time - if he is wise, he will quietly resign at some point with enough distance from the trial to make it seem like a retirement. That being said, Yussa has some of his own opinions about Ludinus Da'leth and anyone that is or has ever been attached to him is worth suspicion.

"I suspect Da'leth is seeking influence, or at the very least a voice inside the Academy. I find his methods of amassing power disconcerting. I do not need to tell you to mind him."

Yussa has been aware of Da'leth's political maneuvering for some time and he told the Nein as much at some point. With the upheaval in the Assembly and the ripple effects from there, he has no doubt that the Martinet is scrambling to ensure a foundation to continue building.

Unseating Margolin certainly would be easier if he could have been implicated in Ikithon's crimes as well, with the certainty that he was fully aware of them and likely picking likely candidates to refer for the Volstrucker program himself. But Astrid and Wulf, who would know, could not be convinced to speak a word about anyone but Ikithon himself, and Caleb has only his suspicions. His position on the Assembly and as Headmaster is also inherited from his father, which entrenches him even more deeply. This is a matter the Cobalt Soul taskforce Caleb belongs to has discussed at length, and it has become still more frustrating since he began working under the man.

There is a soft snort under Caleb's breath when he says, "Ah, no. I am well aware of the Martinet's intentions." He is already the most influential figure in the Empire barring the king himself, yet maintaining that sort of power requires keeping a careful stranglehold on each and every avenue where someone could perceivably disrupt it. Da'leth has had centuries to perfect his technique, but Ikithon's ousting and public disgrace has loosened what had previously been an ironclad hold. Caleb and those he works with at the Soul are quite determined to unravel that wide-reaching net of his. Strand by strand if they must. He is prepared to do this work for the rest of his life.

But Yussa doesn't need to hear about that. What is relevant is, "I expect this move means I will be watched even more carefully than I am already. They cannot have a radical such as myself influencing our next generation of young wizards unchecked." He is slicing beets carefully on a relatively new-looking cutting board as he speaks. The juice stains his fingers red-purple.

"Da'leth also correctly suspects that my friends and I are not content to stop at Ikithon when it comes to excising the corruption in this country, beginning with dismantling the Assembly entirely."

"No, of course not," he says with a wry smile. Caleb is in a precarious position, but then so is the old guard at the Academy and in the Assembly. Caleb is, in fact, what amounts to a radical - and a relatively young one at that, with plenty of zeal and determination left in him. He is dangerous. But he is also too visible now to target with ease. He cannot be smothered the way he might have been back when he was the same man who looked at Yussa Errenis with such terror. He is not that man anymore.

"Then he will be putting his armor on. But I have no doubt you will find your way between the cracks. It is old armor, after all, and I do not think it has been tested in a long time."

And the sharper part of him looks forward to seeing the Martinent's mettle tested by those who have honed their weapons outside of his sphere of influence. Yussa sips his tea.

"But, until then, you must appear at this particular occasion or else be seen as out of step."

Yussa's vote of confidence fills Caleb's chest with a swell of pride and brings a bashful smile to his lips. He glances down, pretending to focus solely on food prep. "I hope that you are right," he says, softer. "We will try, regardless."

Perhaps it should not have taken him this long to realize that he has earned Yussa's respect not only as a wizard, but as a man carving his own path. The way Yussa regards him today is not so much different from usual, but there does seem to be some quiet, satisfied pleasure in his gaze that Caleb thinks means that he has impressed him. He has seen fit to voice his approval in so many ways Caleb is not used to hearing. He is terrible at simply accepting these sentiments, but they do make him happy. Yussa's good opinion means much.

"Precisely, ja." He meets the other wizard's eye again with a wry look of his own. "Technically, I work for the Assembly. I do not get a pass on attending just because I am also working to undermine it. Thankfully I am invited to fewer events as a mere professor than an archmage."

"If you cultivate the right reputation, everyone invites you with the expectation that you will not actually attend," he quips, hiding a smile behind another sip of tea. That being said, he does enjoy answering invitations with the affirmative now and then, just to know that he's probably making someone scramble.

"Well, we will ensure that you arrive looking as good as you should. Fine clothes can be as good as armor." And he knows that Caleb, modest as he is, is capable of pulling off something like that. Yussa will just have to make sure that he has something that suits him and the occasion.

Caleb laughs soft and warm under his breath, all openly fond amusement as Yussa playfully conceals his own smile. "All the better for making an impression when you do."

As he turns away to check the oven, he sighs, "That is exactly why I need you, my friend. While I know plenty about how to tailor my appearance to make an impression, I know little of fine clothing for its own sake." When he turns back, he rinses his hands. "Perhaps we can look at what I have on hand while our dinner is in the oven?"

"Yes, I think that is a fine idea. May I bring my tea?"

In Tidepeak, his cup tends to come with him if he remembers to pick it up in the first place, but this is not Tidepeak, and he will not treat it as if it is. Even as he asks, though, Yussa rises, eager to paw through Caleb's wardrobe.

"Of course. You are welcome to bring your tea anywhere in this house." Caleb picks up his own cup to do the same. As he passes Yussa to lead him upstairs, he pauses to lean down and kiss his temple, brief but affectionate.

In contrast to the first floor, which is mostly an open space, the second consists of three separate rooms. The largest of them is Caleb's workroom and study, the only door on the left. To the right are his bedroom and the house's singular bathroom, with a big copper tub visible in one corner. He takes Yussa into his bedroom, which is furnished in much the same way as the rest of the house: sturdy but mismatched furniture, including a four-poster bed, a night table, two heavy trunks stacked against one wall, and an oversized wardrobe.

Sitting on the edge of the bed--which is layered in blankets of several different textiles and patterns--Caleb gestures toward the latter. "Feel free to look. All of my clothing is in there." After taking a sip of his tea, he clarifies, "Well, ah, not all of it is mine, but most. Some I am holding onto for a friend."

The majority of what Yussa will find hung in the wardrobe's main body or folded into the drawers beneath will be familiar to him; Caleb's typical casual clothing, things he wears and re-wears often. He will even know most of the slightly more formal items, vests and sweaters and collared shirts, that Caleb wears for work, and his outerwear, a couple distinctive coats and scarves. There is also the single set of beautiful black and red robes Jester and Caduceus had commissioned for him in Nicodranas while he studied with Yussa all day. (Well, not all day. That was the first time they were together, which he recalls vividly.)

Worn much less these days, living in the capital of the Empire as he is, is the clothing he bought in Rosohna, with its distinctive Kryn colors, cuts, and adornments. Some of the Kryn clothing hanging furthest to the right or stored safely deep inside the wardrobe is very fine, nicer than anything else he owns, and some are garments Caleb certainly hasn't been known to wear. All are too small for him, anyway.

Yussa follows Caleb through the house and up to the second floor. There are more rooms tucked up here than he expected, but Caleb's used the space relatively well. When Caleb indicates his wardrobe, Yussa sets his cup aside on a nightstand and goes to inspect what the other man has to work with.

He peers over his shoulder briefly and he lifts a delicate brow at the mention of this friend. It doesn't take long to discover which clothes those might be: beautiful Kryn-style garments that are too small for the man sitting on the bed. Yussa gets briefly distracted inspecting them, imagining the person they belong to. Hm.

He turns his attention to the Kryn styles that clearly belong to Caleb - made to fit him but also styled in a way Yussa could see on the other man. He draws out a few things, admiring them. While Caleb would look exquisite in them, there is no need to cause such a stir. He puts them back and pulls out the red and black robes.

"I have not seen you in these," he says absently.

Oof. Flushing lightly, he feels a touch of nerves at that pointedly raised brow. The feeling lingers in his stomach as Yussa lingers on the gorgeous pieces that belong to Essek. He has done nothing wrong, Caleb reminds himself. Truly, he is holding these things for a dear friend for safe-keeping, among other items. Still, he can't help wondering if Yussa is wondering if it is more than that, or if he cares. They have never really been especially clear about the...parameters of their relationship, because it always seemed presumptuous to Caleb to define it as a thing that needed parameters at all. Would Yussa dislike sharing him with someone else? Would he permit their arrangement to continue?

Purely hypothetical, of course. He doesn't have another lover. And if he did, he would say so. Even if loyalty and exclusivity have not been demanded explicitly--and indeed, Caleb has often felt he is in no position to ask for it himself--Caleb has given it anyway.

It is a relief when Yussa brings attention to the red and black robes.

"Those are from a tailor in Nicodranas recommended by Jester's mother. Most of the Nein had outfits made there for the party we attended at the Marquis' estate. You probably remember when they came to collect me from you the evening before." He allows his lips a small suggestive curl. Yussa had given him back well fucked for the first time in years and still reeling from the experience. "Unfortunately, I have worn those robes to nearly every formal event I have been invited to since I began teaching, and I am told this is a bit of an indiscretion."

"I recognize the work," he says as he runs his thumb over a hem. He peers over at Caleb again, golden eyes warm. "And I recall the day."

The beginning of a rather fruitful relationship. Yussa hadn't anticipated things shifting the way they have, bur he has no regrets to that end. He examines the robes again, and he can imagine why Caleb would wear them so frequently. He also understands the social faux pas it becomes.

"Hm." He wants something similar, he decides, but a cut and style that is different enough to be distinct. "I will take care of it."

And that is all he says about it before he tucks the Nicodranas robes away again so that he can close the wardrobe.

The warmth in Yussa's eyes is all Caleb needs to know they are remembering the same thing. It's a good counter to his momentary insecurity, and his smile lingers until Yussa hangs the garment back up and closes the wardrobe.

"Was?" He asks, confused by that declaration. "What do you mean 'you will take care of it'?"

Clearly he hadn't found anything acceptable but the robes he's worn already. Is he planning to procure something for him?

"When I asked for your help, it was not my intention for you to go out of your way for me."

"Precisely what I said," he answers as he picks up his cup of tea. He watches Caleb from over the rim, then lowers it again. "I will decide what is going out of my way."

Spending money is hardly out of his way at this point in his life, and his investment in Caleb is already returning, so he sees no reason not to invest further. He would prefer that Caleb not be waylaid by a problem as fixable as an inadequate wardrobe. A few new things to wear for formal occasions will hardly break Yussa.

"I appreciate your concern, Caleb." His voice is a bit softer then, more gentle. "This is the very least I can do, and I would like to do it."

Caleb knows arguing is pointless. When Yussa has made up his mind there is little hope of persuading him otherwise.

Still, kindness chafes at Caleb. Accepting it is difficult even if he knows this is hardly a drop in the bucket for Yussa, and he is doing it because he wants to. Because he cares.

As ever, being cared for is something Caleb wants desperately and also struggles to reconcile. He cradles his cup between his hands, shoulders hunching. Even this is selfish. He just seems ungrateful.

"If doing this pleases you..." That's it. He just has to swallow that instinct that tells him there must be reciprocity. "Then thank you."

"It does," he says as Caleb struggles to accept the gift. Yussa moves to stand in front of the younger man and his free hand cups Caleb's chin to coax his gaze up. "You have given me considerable kindness and help throughout our association. Allow me to dote on you just a little."

He'd been relatively impassive when Caleb kissed his hair earlier, but now Yussa leans close to kiss the other man with a tenderness few have had the privilege to experience. As he lifts his head, his thumb strokes gently beneath Caleb's lip. A small smile appears.

"And allow an old man to indulge himself. I would enjoy seeing you in something that you can feel good wearing, even if it is only for special occasions."

Caleb has no choice at all but to sink into that kiss, the first they've shared today and far sweeter than he'd expected. He holds his cup in one hand so that he can reach for Yussa with the other, finding the small of his back and gently curling his fingers into the fabric there. The idea of being doted upon is frankly alarming, but Yussa makes it sound like something he would genuinely enjoy doing.

When they part, there is a little apprehension still in Caleb's eyes as he looks up at the other wizard. The way he leans into his touch speaks of trust, though, and the gentle brush of his thumb beneath his lip seizes his attention. If it pleases Yussa to make him look nice, he should allow it. He calls himself an old man, but he is regal and beautiful and it is Caleb who is always lacking standing next to him.

"I will gladly wear anything you wish me to," he promises, returning a small smile of his own. "I think you know how happy I am to let you indulge yourself, old man."

"I promise it will suit you." Yussa gives Caleb another kiss - a reward for acquiescing. He stands straight again, though given the height of the bed, that doesn't make too much of a difference. A smirk quirks his mouth when Caleb calls him an old man, and he is quietly playful, verging on flirtatious when he says:

"Don't be impertinent."

He does like Caleb Widogast, and if he can bolster this man's confidence before the wolves of the Assembly and the Academy both, he will. Yussa may be a hermit, but he understands the finer points of social maneuvering and just how effective it can be. Caleb is clever and he is charming when he allows himself to be, and it would be a shame to see doors closed to him on account of a frayed hem or an outfit seen too many times. Yussa will not allow it.

"I think you enjoy a little impertinence," Caleb flirts back. There is a flash of mischief in his eyes and a light flush in his cheeks and a small but growing smile on his lips. Yussa tends to have that effect on him. "Just a little."

He leans up as though seeking another kiss, though Yussa will have to bend to meet him if he wishes to allow it.

What Caleb wants now is really very simple. He would like to lay down with Yussa in his own bed tonight--in this bed. Ideally, he would like to have sex with him in this bed, but he could live without it. He just can't shake that thought--how nice it would be to have a lover in his own bed, in his own home. It is an experience he has quite literally never had.

He imagines, though, that this visit will not encompass that much. While he will likely stay after dinner for their promised quiet evening, Yussa has his own bed to return to. As a man who rarely leaves the comfort of his own space, Caleb thinks it likely he will want to return to it. If he asked him to stay, he might--but Yussa has already done so much for him today, he is reluctant to ask for anything else. He is lucky to have him here at all, and there are still hours left to enjoy.

Yussa does not dignify Caleb's flirtation - which is entirely correct - with a response, but his smile lingers in his eyes as he admires the other man's faint blush and his smile. This is better. He indulges another kiss, bending forward to meet Caleb half way. Yussa lingers there, enjoying the feel of the kiss and the novelty of being in a place that is so intimate and so foreign.

The archmage stands straight again and looks past Caleb, taking in the bed with careful scrutiny.

"Hm. Well, at least it looks sturdy," he says lightly as he turns away, letting a slender hand slide over one of the posts on his way past it. "Is your workroom warded?"

He asks the question as he heads in that direction.

Still enjoying the warmth lingering after their kiss, Caleb blinks as Yussa casually assesses his bed. Does that mean what he thinks it does? Before he can ask, Yussa has already moved on, leaving the bedroom to make his way across the hall.

"Ah--yes, of course."

Caleb follows, curious and intrigued. "Please," he says, leaning against the doorway as Yussa enters the room ahead of him, "feel free to look around." There is some definite sarcasm there, as Yussa has clearly doing this already, but it is all good-natured teasing.

Yussa casts a look over his shoulder, looking coy. Caleb Widogast, of all people, has no place to chide him for going where he pleases in a private home.

Perhaps that isn't entirely fair. At least Caleb had the good sense to be afraid when the Nein started using Tidepeak as their personal highway. Once he's certain he isn't about to trip any wards, Yussa slips into the workroom and sets his tea aside - the cup is nearly empty. He takes his time curiously exploring Caleb's space, examining the layout of tables, of sigils on the floor and on any other surfaces. He picks up a book or two, flipping them open to glance over a few lines here or there. His behavior has the glimmer of energy that comes with restrained interest. Of course he's interested: he has been working with Caleb for some time, but always in Yussa's space.

For a bit Caleb simply watches with amusement as Yussa pokes around where he pleases, providing insight and explanation where necessary. But before long he has to return downstairs to finish their dinner, though he tells Yussa he is welcome to stay and continue perusing. It is a great deal of trust to place in another wizard, to allow him in his private workspace unattended, but Yussa has more than earned it.

He returns to collect him when their food is ready, and over it they discuss the things that had caught Yussa's interest. This pleases Caleb more than he thought it would, to serve Yussa a meal he prepared himself and discuss the personal projects he has been working on.

They move to the living room after that, where Caleb stokes the fire in the hearth and they each pick books off the shelf, and they spend as much time reading as talking. They settle on the couch, Yussa with a blanket over his lap to ward off the chill he isn't used to. When their glasses of wine are empty, Caleb makes more tea. For all its simplicity, it is a wonderful evening. Caleb hasn't had very many like it, and he doesn't want it to end. But the clock in his mind is a constant reminder that it is growing late. When he can't ignore it any longer, he lays his book face down against his leg and looks to Yussa. He has not yet made any indication that he wishes to leave, which is encouraging.

"You are welcome to stay here tonight, if you wish," he offers shyly. "But as you have seen, I do not have a guest room. So I, ah..." After everything they've shared, this still makes him blush. "I only have my own bed to offer you."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject