[Sauti PRP] Back in One Piece | Nimueh/Callum

[scarlett arbuckle]

RETCONNED, RP DELETED

The plan was half-baked, ill-conceived, foolish to the core, and utterly dependent on sheer luck - but… somehow… it seemed like it had worked. By its very nature, Zenner was a bustling metropolis of innumerably countless people, and once he’d broken free from the place he’d been forced to call ‘home’ for the past… two…? years, what were the odds that /she/ would find him again before he could get away?

Nimueh could still scarcely believe that he’d pulled it off, but…Compared to the airy coolness of Belrea, in its high-tiered cities, Sauti was downright searing, and even if he didn’t quite recognize the settlement that he’d landed in, he knew that he was close to home - back, at least, on the right continent.

Shielding his eyes from the sun (and trying to ignore the flares of pain the light shot into his aching head), Nim leaned heavily on the cane he’d taken with him, shuffling out of the way of the others disembarking from the airship, adjusting the bag that hung, far too heavy, on his shoulder. It was strange to think that just years ago, he’d been a fighter - and now, he was...

Nimueh huffed out a breath, shaking his head and, instead, decided he'd wait until the crowd had abated from the initial rush off the ship. Then he pushed himself from the crates he’d been half collapsed on, wincing against the nerve pain that shot back up his bad leg as he moved, craning his head to look for the nearest courier shop. He’d had weeks on that damn ship to write letters, and his first order of business was to send them - from there ? He supposed he’d have to try and find passage home to Zena - which… would be difficult. In the past, he’d had money to spend, or could offer his fighting abilities in exchange for passage on a caravan - now, he’d be working off pure charity, or hoping someone recognized him from his mothers’ business.
 

[Painted Moose]

Scarlett Arbuckle

Callum was never very good at haggling.

The nomadic swordsman had spent the better part of his morning buying and trading various goods to better prepare himself for the trip he was about to make. Most, if not all, of his belongings could fit into a total of three sacks; one of which was being fiercely guarded by Faulina. His avian friend had taken leave of him once the sun began to rise, and was presumably somewhere near the edge of town, hunting morackers and scaring children. With the remaining two satchels, Callum had set off for town.

It didn't take long to burn through his resources. Saddle repairs, cleaning clothes and oils for his swords, bedding, food...Callum realized pretty quickly that before he knew it his coin would leave him, and if he had any hope of sending some to his children then he needed to act. Fast.

Perhaps it wasn't the smartest of moves to accept a challenge by what was undoubtedly the largest Talean man he'd ever seen. And yet, the man was offering coin to anyone who could best him in battle. It had been enough to draw a full crowd, and while Callum worried it only only excite them, especially after all the earthlings here had been told over the past few weeks, the exact opposite was true. They were excited by the exhibition matches; if anything, he felt hope rising from their hearts. It's what drew him in, and within moments, Callum was avoiding a massive hammer as his opponent swung it in wide arcs, hoping to connect to his tender flesh.

When he was younger this would have been so much harder. Now, however, Callum easily contorted his body in feats of acrobatics so smooth it felt as if his bones had melted under his flesh. Blow after blow, swing after swing, he dodged until prime opportunities presented themselves.

Fighting had been the one saving grace for Callum over the years. It was something mindless he could focus on that not only kept his children fed, but also helped to give him the attention he craved. By being in the spotlight he could be reminded that he was still here, that he still mattered, and in a sense, was still alive.

And even when when his sword collided with that giant's hammer he couldn't keep from smiling. His feet were being pushed back across the hard, packed earth, but Callum didn't let it deter him. He'd been pushed enough in life to know when to move; and so, he did. Just when his opponent had all of his weight pressed forward, hoping to crush the smaller hybrid with a bone shattering move, Callum dipped out of the way.

His opponent collapsed face first on the ground with the tip of Callum's sword pressed neatly against the back of his neck.

And in an instant the crowd was roaring.  

[scarlett arbuckle]

Painted Moose

Something had happened here recently, that much was clear from the sheer number of people. Nimueh hadn’t been conscious for his first trip through the airports, but he could imagine it to be a bustling bureau of activity regardless - this, however, was vastly different. There were plenty of visitors from the other continent milling about, but he would have expected more Sautians here than anything else - instead, there were groups of all races here.

Not the ragtag, travel worn people he would expect - many people here looked important. Fighters, warriors - there were familiars laden with weapons and supplies, not the normal timber and furs that were traded through Sauti and Zena.

And there was an energy in the air- it reminded him of a nearly forgotten time (funny that of all the things he couldn’t remember, he COULD remember this) from his childhood, of panicked adults talking in hushed tones about an invasion. Shaking his head free of clouds that threatened to descend again, the alkidike mix continued through the town, sighing in relief as he finally spotted a courier- only for his face to fall at the prices marked on the boards that hung in the shop front.

How was he supposed to know that in the panic of the dretch attacks, with the sudden uptick in panicked letters sent to loved ones, the prices had risen exorbitantly high? Defeated, the massif clutched his cane again and turned away from the courier’s office, deciding to try his luck with other caravans.

It would seem that his luck had drained itself dry in escaping - because between him and the fringe of the settlement was a teeming crowd, circling around (judging by the sounds of clashing metal within) a pair of fighters. There didn't seem to be any way around them, except-- straight on through. The alkidike groaned, quietly, in mounting frustration - but, slowly and nervously, he limped his way forward and into the crowd.

Murmuring apologizes as he pushed his way through, Nimueh had barely made it through even a few feet before the crowd erupted into raucous applause, and a man behind him shoved into him, hard, in his excitement to see what was going on. The alkidike stumbled, catching himself on someone beside him as his cane flew from his hand, skidding between dozens of feet - and landing in the center of the fray, just feet from the combatants.

Great, just great. His head was killing him from the noise, and the heat of the crowd around him made him feel sick to his stomach - but he knew there was no way he could walk without that cane, not now. The crowd around him pressed in oppressively, but eventually he made it to the front, where he dropped painfully to his knees, reaching to grab the cane from where it had been flung, only feet from the two fighters.

Thank the gods, the fight had stopped, or he was sure he’d be bowled over as he closed his trembling fingers around the cane.  

[Painted Moose]

Scarlett Arbuckle

Callum lifted his sword and held it up, much to the delight of the kinetic crowd, before giving a grand bow. It was a theatrical, garish even, but these days the performer would take what he could get. Acting over the top was enough to keep his heart as light as his footwork, and for that, he was glad to have the opportunity.

At first he paid little heed to the appearance of a cane. He was too focused on the smiling faces pressing down around him and the rising figure of his opponent. The man had been soundly beaten, and yet, he still looked ready to strike. There was something about him that was inherently unsettling; as if this man was using the guise of a war to hide his lust for blood. For a moment Callum kept an eye on him, watching for any hint of returning aggression, but when the Talean simply dipped his thick head in a mock-bow Callum calmed. Soon enough his opponent produced a satchel of coin from one of the many pouches lining his belt, and tossed it to the ground at the hybrid's feet.

Would it have been so hard to hand it to me?

Tiredly, Callum looked down to find the satchel...and found something else entirely. A larger...man? grasping for it, and Callum found himself instinctively moving closer. His bare, travel worn feet carried him close enough so that when he dropped into a crouch he was close enough to get a good look. Whoever it was seemed to be Belrean, judging by their clothing, but with his bent head covered by a scarf Callum couldn't tell just how bad off they were.

"Are you alright? Do you need any help standing?"

 

[scarlett arbuckle]

Painted Moose

This was a nightmare-- Nimueh’s hand closed around his cane, tugging it close to him, but before he could move one of the fighters noticed him. He dropped down into a crouch, and though Nim knew he should raise his head to look at him, he couldn’t do it. He had never felt so humiliated - it had already taken him long enough to get used to the fact he may never be the same fighter he used to, but now he was being reminded, in the most brutally public way, that he couldn’t even … walk through a crowd like a normal person.

He felt bitter frustration descending on him, and he gripped the cane harder, resolving that he would stand on his own. Then… then, the man spoke.

Nimueh froze.

He’d come home, looking for this man - and yet, when he heard his voice, Nimueh’s stomach dropped fiercely, and he was overcome with the strong urge to run. He… he’d never stopped to think what Callum would even think, seeing him like this. And assuming he wasn’t going insane, and his jumbled brain had actually placed the voice correctly -- it meant Callum had won this fight. Callum was the one who’d drawn this huge crowd.

How far he’d come, in the eternity Nimueh had been gone.

Without looking up, Nim straightened the cane, digging its tip into the dirt beneath him, gripping it with a white-knuckled grip as he pushed himself back to a standing position. It was… impossibly hard, with his leg screaming under him, threatening to buckle again, but finally he was standing once more, nearly panting from the exertion, feeling sweat trickling down his brow and the back of his neck--

And he allowed himself to look down at him, to see him.

Down into an older face that his mind recognized as Callum, even as every feature looked strange, foreign, and different.

And he had no idea what to say. “...Your satchel.” He murmured, voice rough as if from misuse, gesturing with a weak twitch of his hand to the pouch beneath them.  

[Painted Moose]

Scarlett Arbuckle

When Callum canted his head to the side, hoping to get a look at the man, locks of curled white hair fall across his cheek. He brushed them away passively, tucking the stray tendrils behind his ears as he'd done a thousand times before. In the act he'd lowered his hand to press his palm flat against the ground, allowing his sword to come to a rest on the stone at his side.

The act was drawing attention, that much he was well aware of, but even though Callum paid them little mind the injured man didn't seem to like it. Scrunching his brows, Callum pressed the issue, "Please, let me he-" , and was promptly cut off when the other decided to stand. He panicked. What was he doing?! Without the cane he would have surely fallen, and it would take an idiot not to notice the near death grip he had on it. Callum hesitantly rose, arms moving on their own accord to hover in the space around him, ready to catch the man as soon as he went down again-

-until he looked up.

Nimueh.

Callum was paralyzed. There wasn't a muscle in his body that knew how to respond so he stood solid as if he'd been frozen to the spot. Wha-what was this? A figment of his imagination? It didn't make sense, he'd stopped dabbling in the red flower months ago! He wasn't aware of how much his pupils were dilating, nor of the faint sheen surrounding them with unshed tears. This is bad. He was hallucinating in public, and somewhere along the lines his visions of Nimueh had gotten older, more withdrawn and-

Callum dropped to his knees.

A punch to the gut would have come as less of a shock than this. "There's no way...this isn't happening..." His voice was a shaken murmur that only those closest to him could hear. What was this? What was he seeing? Either he was hallucinating in public, again, or....?

Or what? No one can come back from the dead.  

[scarlett arbuckle]

Painted Moose

It was so typical of Callum, being so kind to what he thought was a complete stranger. It almost made him smile - almost. Unfortunately, he was drawing a crowd - the winner of this fight, then turning to help a cripple stand?
The dark thought seared in his mind, only helping to deepen his humiliation.
But that wasn't fair - this was Callum, he was only trying to help.

If only he'd known the kind of reaction that seeing his face would bring. His husband seized up instantly, staring as if he'd seen a ghost. And could Nimueh really blame him? It occurred to him that ... he didn't really know how long he'd been gone for. Years, at least.

When Callum dropped to his knees, though, looking to be in shock - Nimueh bit his lip, then, despite just how much his mind resisted the idea, he carefully lowered himself to his knees again. "...Callum. Just breath, deep breathes. Focus on my voice."

This felt vaguely familiar... ah. Wasn't this... from when they'd returned from- some place? Some bad place, he remembered... they'd both had panic attacks for months afterwards, and had tried to talk their way through them as best they could. At least he thought that was right. Now that he was kneeling,
Nimueh reached for the satchel, holding it briefly in the hand that still clutched his cane, while the other reached for Callum's hand, turning it palm upwards, and pressing the gold into his hand, squeezing his fingers around it.  

[Painted Moose]

Breathing...wasn't as easy as it should have been. Callum's mind was reeling so fast he felt sick at his stomach. The adrenaline from his mind was being channeled into other facets; like assisting in helping his body to hyperventilate. Whatever image of strength and bravery he'd presented to the crowd earlier was all too quickly being ripped away. With each quickened breath, every tremor in the hands that couldn't decide if they wanted to curl up or hide, he started to lose it a little more.

Focus on my voice.

Callum bit back a laugh. A bit of sound slipped out before he tamped down on it. How many times had he heard that line over the years? It helped to ground him, to remind him of how utterly exposed they were, but it did nothing to calm him. Instead, Callum took a deep, albeit shaky, breath into his lungs and channeled it out as slowly as possible. Whatever was happening....he couldn't let it unfold in the middle of the street. Regardless of what was happening the less the general public saw of this the better.

Cautiously, he watched his calloused hand be flipped over and the satchel, that stupid thing, was held so tight that it gave him the courage to move. "...I'll get a room, at the inn. Can you walk?" His voice may have been small, but it wasn't unsure. It was clear that he was holding it all in, for now, and while this moment of clarity was upon him the swordsman was choosing to act on it.

"If you can't I'll carry you." In the past that statement may have been laughable. Even today there was a clear height difference, and although Callum may have put on another few pounds of muscle it would still be a challenge. Not an impossible one, though.
 

[scarlett arbuckle]

Painted Moose

If only a panic attack could always be soothed by another's voice.
In the past, it may have been more effective, if only thanks to the faith they held in one another - but it was useless when they were all but strangers to one another, again.

Callum didn't calm down, exactly. That was clear by the shaking to his gasping breaths, and the laugh that broke from his throat. When he did eventually recover himself, at least a bit, he still had that wild look to his eyes, even as his breathing slowed enough to avoid hyperventilating.

The inn. That meant, at least, that Callum would talk. Nimueh released a tense breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, then bit the inside of his cheek at the question. "A hand." He said, reaching out a hand,
waiting until Callum understood and gripped it. With his help, he once again heaved himself to his feet, leaning hard against the cane as he recovered his strength, just enough to move. He waited for Callum to lead the way, hobbling after him even as his cheeks burned in shame. They operated, from here, in silence as they found the inn, and even though Callum truly was abysmal at haggling, even after all this time, Nimueh didn't intervene as may have in the past. He wasn't sure if it was his place to, anymore.

Then, once they were led to the room, Nimueh felt the dread falling on him once again. He sank, thankfully, into the closest chair, tightly rubbing his hand against his shattered knee, as if the contact would calm the ache that had worked its way up the bones and nerve. He... didn't know what to say. So, he settled for a twitch of a smile, and, "Hi, Callum."  

[Painted Moose]

Scarlett Arbuckle

How could he refuse? Callum took Nimueh's hand in his own, and rose, offering what help he could to get his hus- the other man to his feet. It was harder than expected, and in all their years together Callum had never seen Nimueh so broken down. The sight pushed away thoughts of hallucinations and illusions, but knowing that this was the real Nimueh wasn't things any easier.

He mainly focused on his breathing during the walk. Breathing, and watching, that is. Every so often his eyes would drift beneath the veil of hair that clung to his cheeks, watching every little move Nimueh made with a critical eye. Nothing was adding up. There was no denying that this man was the same who was supposed to be dead, and yet...here he was.

Getting a room hadn't been easy; with the gatherings, the crowds, the influx of Belreans...most inns were fit to burst, but extra gold helped secure them a spot. Nothing seemed to matter as much as what was currently sitting across from him in a chair, rubbing at his knee, and that was what frightened Callum the most.

Everything about this was frightening and strange, and overwhelming which is why Callum chose not to sit. Once the door was closed he placed his things by the door, and dug out a kettle from his bag. It was an older, hand me down from his grandmother and after setting it down beside him he pulled out a packet of crushed plant leaves.

At first Callum chose not to respond. Instead, he busied himself by taking water from a pitcher near the bed, pouring it into the kettle and setting it on the fire. "...The tea will help...with your knee." He motioned stiffly towards Nimueh, "It's a pain reliever." It was easy enough to focus on something as simple as tea, to watch for water that hadn't even boiled yet, when all he wanted to do was panic once more. Even looking at the other man was sending his heart into a frenzy.

Callum racked his hand through his hair and finally, when he could bare it no longer, the words came to him, "If you've been alive all this time, where were you?"
 

[scarlett arbuckle]

Painted Moose

In contrast, Callum looked good. Somber, certainly - there was a certain set to his face that made it clear that smiles came less than when he was younger, though that had been a change set on course years ago. But he looked stronger - thickened out in lean muscle, clad in flowing clothes that suited him. For possibly the first time Nimueh could remember, the swords at Callum's hips seemed to suit him.

One would expect Callum to get right to the point, but Nimueh silently thanked him when he instead set himself to work, golden eyes watching him move about the small, confined inn room, brewing up a tea. The two men stared at the fire for a moment, as if it could somehow distract them from the silence sitting between them, until ultimately Callum broke, and asked the million coin question.

And how was Nimueh to answer? His hand stilled against his knee, lips moving soundlessly as he tried to settle on something to say. I was probably going to die for a long time, there's that. / I was trapped, I couldn't get to you, but I wanted to-- / I forgot you even existed.

Nothing sounded right. But, was there really any tactful answer for what had happened? Nimueh still didn't even remember when they'd been separated in the first place, just that he'd been injured, badly, and Elsheba had 'found' him.

He knew her well enough to know that was unlikely, but he had no way to argue with her story when he couldn't even remember everything about his life before Belrea.

"With Mother." He said, finally, though the name sounded wrong coming from his lips. He frowned, then gave his head the smallest of shakes. "...Elsheba? In Belrea. Said it was safer for healing, that Al-- Alk..." Here he paused again, his lips moving once more as he tried to sound out the word, but try as he might he couldn't remember it. Frustrated, Nimueh pulled the shawl off of his head, shifting his hair to the side and tilting his head to show the scar there - a thick curve of ugly, raised scar tissue nestled among short cut hair, tapping his finger against it as if its presence would explain something. "Were looking for us.""  

[Painted Moose]

Scarlett Arbuckle

There was no possible way for Nimueh to answer that would satisfy Callum. He knew it, deep in his core, and yet he'd asked anyway. What words could replace years of loss? What phrase could erase a survivor's guilt? Callum found himself moving back to the kettle when the pot began to whistle, and within a few moments he had two cups of perfectly warm, extraordinarily ordinary, tea. In his own cup he added a little extra powder; a mix of his own design that tinged the naturally cinnamon colored water a deep scarlet.

"Elsheba? But she-" - abandoned you. Callum's brows furrowed. He picked up the two cups and awkwardly made his way closer to Nimueh. For a moment he simply stood in front of his husband, and took in the visage before him. Parts of his heart were aching so badly that all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around him, but the parts that had lived without Nimueh were hesitant. They were what had Callum on the edge of a panic attack, and thus, also aided in the awkwardness he exhibited when handing the other's cup over.

At the very least, this time Callum sat on the edge of the bed so he could be a little closer.

"She took you to Belrea? To get away from the alkidike?" If I had known... Then what? Would he have fought this woman, this 'legend' in her own right, for custody of his near death husband? He'd never met Elsheba, and from the stories he'd been told, Callum had always thought that a blessing. She hadn't seemed particularly evil, just...entirely unpleasant. And now that he knew she was what had kept Nimueh away from him....Well, his hands tightened on his tea cup, and there was a firmness in his jaw that hadn't been there before.

And that scar....the sight paled Callum's skin. It was horrific! By all accounts the man sitting across from him should have been dead, and yet here he was. When Callum finally noticed that he'd started crying, he hurriedly wiped at his cheeks with the back of his hand, and focused on his tea instead. "Does it....does it still hurt you? And your knee...is that from the attack too?"  

[scarlett arbuckle]

Painted Moose

As if Nimueh didn't realize that, now. But his longing for home had been all encompassing, and he had hoped--
well. That hope was unrealistic, he was quickly finding that out. Callum was stiff in every way, distant even as he made a show of being friendly, and when he handed over the finished cup of tea their fingers didn't so much as brush together.
It was an exchange that left the younger man breathless, ducking his head to sip at the tea, despite it being far too hot.

Alkidike- yes! He hummed in quiet approval, bobbing his head once so Callum knew he'd interpreted it right. It was at this point that he set the tea cup down on a side table, shifting his hair aside.

If only he'd known what kind of reaction it'd cause -- his husband blanched at the sight of it and, suddenly self conscious, the Alkidike flushed and hurriedly dropped his hair back in place, tugging his scarf back in place with hasty hands. By this time, Callum had even started crying --

Was this what Nim had wanted? He'd been so selfishly determined to get back to to the mainland, and yet... what exactly had he brought back, for Callum? His husband looked to be enjoying freedom and travel, growing into his own as an evidently capable warrior - they'd met on the road traveling, hadn't they? Nimueh hadn't come back just to be a ball and chain, someone to tie Callum down and keep him from traveling as they both had so enjoyed.

Even if Callum was quickly wiping away the tears that escaped his eyes, he had seen them, and felt the pit of shame and regret sinking even further into him.

Then, Callum spoke again. "...Sometimes." He admitted vaguely- and likely would have elaborated further, if the next question hadn't followed it.

His face instantly darkened, and his hand dropped to his knee again, rubbing it thoughtlessly. He ... was loathe to go into what life with his 'mother' had been like, but he couldn't bring himself to outright lie either. He hoped that his silence would offer enough of an answer to satisfy Callum.

"...I'm sorry." For coming back? For being so broken-- for not knowing how to speak to Callum,
without tipping off how little he really remembered? For every memory that had returned in the last few months, he was sure there were more that he didn't, and he hadn't realized he would feel so out of his depth, sitting in front of Callum. Taking a shuddering breath, Nim opened his mouth, then instead let out a shaking laugh, shrugging his shoulders hopelessly. "I didn't think this through. I just wanted--" To come home, and have everything go back to how it used to be. As if that could ever happen, especially now.  

[Painted Moose]

Scarlett Arbuckle

Seeing the change in Nimueh, the subtle ducking of his head at the lack of contact...was hard. Callum tossed back a mouthful of the warm tea, closing his eyes on a sharp inhale when it burned his throat. Soon enough it would help to calm him, but right now he just had to wait...and that was proving to be harder than anticipated.

Callum wasn't used to being the caretaker and it showed. He was at a total loss as to what he was supposed to do in this situation, so he was going with gut instinct. At first he'd kept his distance to make sure this wasn't some grand trick of the mind, or a rouse planted by someone who held a grudge, but no amount of magic could have made a NImueh quite like this.

The man who had left him behind was a capable warrior who bared little resemblance to the self-conscious soul before him, and yet...Callum knew this was real.

"Don't. Don't you dare." His lower lip quivered, and Callum tried to keep it in, but he just couldn't. His expression was barely contained stiffness as he sat his cup on the ground by his feet. The hybrid moved to close the space between them before moving to his knees by Nimueh's side. "...I thought you were dead. We all did. But she....the goddess answered my prayers and b-br-brought you back to me..." He leaned forward, pressing his face against NImueh's thigh as tears consumed him. His arms hung heavy at his sides, as if his fingers were still to afraid to do what his face was already daring to do; to touch.

"I-I can't believe you're real..." Callum's voice hiccuped, and he felt his body lean forward, forehead sliding down enough so that it was the crown of his head pressed against Nimueh's thigh instead. Just when he'd given up...just when he'd accepted it and started to move on...

The Goddess blessed him. One final time.
 

[scarlett arbuckle]

Painted Moose

Nim's mouth snapped closed, eyes widening slightly at the interruption. He obeyed, however, looking up as the older man stood,
then moved closer, settling down on his knees infront of him - simply... laying his head against him, weeping. His words would have warmed his heart, if they hadn't been so pained and revealed just how his disappearance had affected him. On sheer instinct he draped his arms as best he could over Callum's body, fingers burying themselves into thick, pale hair, wishing he had the strength to pull him up and completely into his arms.

With each moment though, Callum's strength seemed to wane - his body sagging further to the ground. Nimueh had long since given up any faith in gods or spirits, but -- even he couldn't argue against Callum's heartfelt words. Even if Nimueh had dragged himself back to Tendaji, he'd been utterly hopeless in finding Callum - and it was as if divine providence had led them together again.

The moment felt powerful - overcome with emotion, Nimueh was left gasping, settling his hand finally against the warm skin at the base of Callum's neck, fingers tangled loosely in his hair. "I-I'm here. I'm here, Callum. It's going to be okay now." He hoped -- but, he couldn't forget that Callum had said 'we' before.

Nimueh couldn't begin to explain why, but something told him that was significant.