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Caleb opens his newly retrieved book and finds not googly eyes or dick drawings as he expected, but a masterfully done sketch of himself. It’s on a torn off sheet of paper, presumably from Jester’s journal, sandwiched in between pages 189 and 190 partway through a chapter concerning divination. The sketch itself is beautiful in a way that Caleb with his severely limited art terminology can’t begin to describe, and while he may not understand the process, he certainly can appreciate the results.
He has never seen her draw like this, though to be fair he has never seen through her journal. What he typically sees are caricatures, exaggerations and amplifications, or quick doodles in the margins of pages. What he sees currently takes focus, a masterful skill and dedication to detail that only time and effort can bring. He is proud of her work and frankly unsurprised that Jester can achieve this.
It’s the subject matter that is confusing. It’s him certainly, sitting cross-legged on a wooden slatted floor littered with stray pages, books, and candles. Depicted in his left hand is a small book that seems to be occupying his attention, while his right is pressed against his mouth in contemplation.
This is not the strange part, no Caleb is sure this is a fairly familiar sight amongst his travelling companions. What's strange is the depiction of a light that seems to surround him, that seems to extend from him. The outer edges of the paper are darkly shaded depicting a shadowed room, yet that darkness does not touch his form. Instead a bubble, maybe an aura, extends from off his shoulders providing a buffer between him and the shadows.
It may be less interesting than he is making it seem. It may just be Jester’s own artistic interpretation, yet for some reason it does not seem so. The sketch is very clearly a study in realism with detail and accuracy apparent throughout, save for the strange light emanating from Caleb’s sketched form.
He can’t help but be curious as to what Jester saw, as to why Jester decided to tear out a page from her journal and gift him with this image. From what Caleb is aware, Jester does not typically dole out her art work like this as it is her primary form of communication with the Traveler, though their communication seems to be much more casual than anything Caleb has ever seen. Perhaps the Traveler encouraged this spontaneous gifting of art.
Caleb thinks on it for a day, can’t seem to stop himself from coming back to the sketch that Jester has made absolutely no mention of. He keeps it tucked inside the same book, between pages 189 and 190, where it will be safest from the elements as they finally leave the coast and travel back north to Felderwin.
It doesn’t take long for the coastline to shrink into nothingness behind them and Caleb can honestly say that he won’t miss it. The more distance they can place between them and that mage the better, though Caleb knows it is temporary what with that fucking teleportation circle waiting for them. The list of reasons to never return to Nicodranas is nearly a mile long, which is unfortunate because the singular reason they have to return trumps all of the reasons not to.
Jester lights up like a firecracker every time she gets to see her mother and that is something no one in their group can bear to take from her. Even Caleb, even though it’s dangerous to return, even though he will potentially bamf their whole group into the lair of one of the most powerful people on this earth just to let Jester see her mama again because of course he’s going to do it. He can’t deny her that.
It’s getting a bit hard for Caleb to deny Jester anything, though she never asks for too much, which has to be why Caleb agrees to take the middle watch on their second night of travel just because Jester says so. “I’ll take second shift with Caleb!” she says, or rather declares before turning to him and smiling. He really has no good reason to say no, so he doesn’t. “Ja, sounds good,” he responds automatically, internally adjusting his sleep schedule to fit in a rude awakening part way through.
Although they have the bubble to sleep in now, Caleb still strings his silver thread more out of a comfortable habit that anything, and waits until the breathing of his companions evens out before letting himself drift off.
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Yasha has learned to wake him slowly, for which Caleb is eternally grateful. She is very gentle when she wants to be, softly calling his name and very pointedly not grabbing him in anyway shape or form. It takes Caleb a bit to come to, takes a bit longer to reorient himself, takes even longer than that for his brain to catch up with where he is, why he’s here, who is with him is it safe here. Yasha is patiently kneeling next to his bedroll and smiles a bit when he finally blinks away sleep and turns to face her. “You’re up,” She says softly and moves to stand, reaching down to offer a hand.
Caleb takes it, and lets himself be pulled upright only to see Jester already standing with her arms stretched above her head and her mouth pulled into a wide yawn.
“Good morning Jester.”
“Good middle-of-the-night to you too Caleb!” She says far to brightly for someone who just woke up. “I totally had a dream that you, me, Beau, and Bryce were standing on the tallest roof in Zadash and we were all trying to catch falling stars! But for some reason the moon was purple which meant something funny that I can’t remember and we needed to find a giant net for the stars to land on, but Fjord had it for some reason, so we all had to use our bare hands.”
She talks as she moves, chattering away as she walks over to stoke the campfire and manages to adjust herself semi-comfortably so she is sitting next to him on the ground. “Well?” Caleb responds as she settles, “Were we successful?”
“Of course we were! I caught a really big one that was that was green and sparkly and I wore it on my dress. Oh! And you caught two! One was super glittery and it lit up in all different colors, I think you gave that one to Nott, and the other was smaller and orange and it matched your hair.” Her hands move as she speaks, gesturing the size and shape of the stars, fingers wiggling to indicate sparkles, and then her right hand reaches up and tugs on a stray lock of his hair.
Her hand is gone as soon as it comes, moving again to rest at her lap, but the sensation remains on Caleb’s scalp. It makes him smile, just a little, as he replies “That sounds like a beautiful dream.”
She’s nodding as she says, “It was! You had the best luck for sure, then you tried to help Beau catch her stars because they kept shattering when she tried to grab them.”
Caleb hums in acknowledgment, but otherwise does not respond. Jester does not seem to mind however, for she hums back, turning it into a lilting melody and extending it into a song. She seems to sing a lot, Caleb realizes and then wonders if song was a large part of her childhood. Caleb would bet an arm and a leg that little Jester would imitate her mother on the stage, perhaps adding more flair and enthusiasm to the movements, more volume and depth to the song. Perhaps her mother and the staff would put on little performances with Jester as the star, letting her work her way down the stairs and to the stage all in her mother’s too-big dress.
And oh, Caleb must have been drifting, too inside his own head because without him realizing it Jester has pulled out her journal to draw which yanks Caleb’s mind back to the present. And then he remembers, so he says “I found your drawing. In my book.”
Jester gasps lightly and turns to look back at him. “You found it! Do you like it? I think it turned out very well and you were such a good model! You sat so still without me having to even ask.”
“I do like it. You are a very talented artist, Jester. Though now that you bring it up, when did you draw this? I can’t say I remember posing for a sketch.” He reaches down into the left pocket of his book holster and flips to page 189 to reveal Jester’s art standing straight up between the pages.
Her smile has turned coy, it has a little upturn at the edge and she has leaned in as if to tell a secret. “You didn’t even know.” She says softly, eyes dancing in the firelight. “I tried to get your attention, but you were too focused on decoding Avantika’s journal to even notice me, or any of us really. We kept walking on tiptoes around the room until Nott told us that it wouldn’t matter either way, there was no chance of you snapping out of it until you finished your work.”
And oh, he really did not notice. It had taken all of his focus, all of his concentration to decode that complicated journal. Only now does Caleb realize that he plopped down in the middle of the floor of their shared room to spend the next ten or so hours to work on the journal while they all just worked around him.
“You stayed there?” He says surprised, he would have thought that everyone would have left, possibly excluding Nott.
She smiles wider, lifting her left shoulder so her head is tilted against it smooshing her cheek. “For a little bit. I went to bed eventually, but I usually draw first anyway and you were such a good subject!”
“May I ask you something?” He says eagerly, pulling the drawing from the pages pinched between thumb and forefinger. “Could you tell me what this is?”
Gingerly, Caleb set down the drawing on top of the book and rests it against his thigh. His finger carefully traces the light surrounding him, barely touching the paper as he follows the line of his own drawn shoulders.
Jester blinks, then smirks and says, “Caleb, that is you.”
He doesn’t even spare her a glance. “Har, har. Jester, work with me, please.” He replies and Jester laughs suddenly. He sees her arms move out of the corner of his eye as she attempts to muffle the sound to not wake the others.
She leans into him and bumps their shoulders together. “You are really funny sometimes, you know that?” Then she stays like that, pressed along Caleb’s left side as she reaches down and traces the drawing, mirroring the path of his finger. Caleb knew that Jester didn’t mind the cold, but he never realized that would make her run so warm. Heat radiates from her, seeping through Caleb’s clothing and making its way to his skin, running a line of warmth down the left side of his body.
Jester is quiet for some seconds, mimicking the path of Caleb’s finger with her own, when abruptly she gasps, “Oh! Do you mean the glow?”
“Ja, yes. That aura of light around me. What is it?”
She turns her head to look at him now, not that she has to turn very far with how close she is sitting, and eyes him over incredulously. “It’s a glow.” She repeats simply, “You were glowing.”
“I don’t…” Caleb is lost, suddenly unable to grasp the trajectory of this conversation because, honestly, what is she talking about? “Are you meaning, metaphorically?”
She shakes her head, “You know, when someone glows! Like my mama when she is performing, or Caduceus when he gives people food that he makes.” She’s talking with her hands again, ticking of fingers as she lists off people before she reaches over and presses her extended fingers against Caleb’s sternum. “You glow when you do something extremely smart, when you learn new things and put them to use. You know?”
And oh, he may understand that. It’s almost metaphorical, it’s the reality-adjacent result of someone being so comfortable, so at ease and doing something that they absolutely love. There is an expansion of one’s presence, a lift to their countenance that seems to reach beyond the physical form into the environment surrounding them. It’s Yasha when she finds a flower, it’s Nott when she works her clever hands to create something new. It’s Jester… a lot of the time.
It’s Jester when she and Nott solve a mystery, it’s Jester when her and Beau share an inside joke together, it’s Jester when she gives a thoughtful gift picked for someone in particular. And then Caleb connects the dots.
“Jester, you glow when you are making others happy.”
For a second, she looks surprised. Perhaps she did not expect him to respond, perhaps it’s the way he said it, with certainty after not initially understanding, perhaps it’s something else entirely. Then her expression shifts, slow enough that Caleb can watch its progression from astonishment to contemplation to a soft lopsided smile. Then she says, “Am I glowing now?”
It’s a leading question, extremely so, and they both know it. There is one right answer, the answer he wants to give, the one that is reflected in the mischief and joy on Jester’s face because that's it really, her glow. Caleb could avoid answering and neither of them would be surprised, but he is feeling… bold? Bold-adjacent. Somehow, for once, there isn’t really anything to lose here, though there may be something more important to gain which is why he says, “Yes. You always seem to glow when the two of us talk.”
And then Jester is fucking beaming. She’s smiling so hard her eyes are squinting shut, her hand now caught in Caleb’s as she leans further into his side. “Caleb what the heck you are being so charming tonight! I didn’t think you were going to be so sweet!”
Which makes him realize oh shit, that question was a bit more leading that he first thought. It is good, very good, that Jester now has her face pressed against his shoulder and is not looking at him because he can feel the warmth steadily spreading through his cheeks. It is gentle though, not a blazing hot blush built from embarrassment or ridicule, but rather something warm from affection, almost resembling the rush to his cheeks from a good glass of wine.
He does not answer her, not knowing at all what to say in response, but again Jester does not seem to mind. She has threaded the fingers of her right hand through the fingers of his left, resting on his leg just beneath Jester’s artwork. And for the first time in a long time Caleb feels contained in the best way possible. He simply feels the here and now, in this field in the middle the middle of the night with Jester and his friends sleeping nearby, that it is all he has, all he has ever known.
It won’t last long, this feeling never does, but Caleb relishes in it while he is able. Careful to avoid losing an eye to Jester horns, Caleb let his cheek rest lightly against the top of her head.
“This is a good sketch,” Jester says softly, breaking the silence after some time. “Maybe I should sign it now so that when I become super famous or something you can sell it for a ton of money and then you can buy an entire mountain of paper!”
It’s a special kind of talent Jester has, that even her hypothetical world where she is famous still results in others reaping the rewards. “I will not sell it. You may still sign it if you want, but this one I’m going to keep. Because you are right, it is a good sketch.”
Jester moves back a bit, dislodging Caleb’s head from atop hers, and turns to look up at him, her mouth coy and eyes shining as she replies, “You big flatterer! ‘Flattery will get them in the door, but if they pay let them stay’ or something like that. I think my mama made that one up, but I like it anyway.” She squeezes his held hand and lifts her other one to hover in the air, palm upward and outstretched. “Soooo, now that you’ve flattered your way through the door, I think you have to pay me. Whatchu got Widogast?”
Caleb bites down a smile, at the way she says the last bit, sounding more like Beau than anyone has any right to, and then he snaps. With a soft ‘fwump’ Frumpkin poofs into Jester’s lap before looking up at her with small ‘mlep’.
“Oh! Frumpkin!” Jester exclaims, raising up both her hands to her face including the one still vice gripped in Caleb’s own. Slowly, she lowers their joined hands back down to rest on Caleb’s leg, and uses her free hand to skrtich under Frumpkin’s chin. “Is this your payment? May I keep him?”
“For two weeks. I hope my terms are agreeable.” Caleb says, with mock severity, playing into this strange game he somehow finds himself in.
Jester plays along of course. She straightens her back and looks him dead in the eye, a faint smile still playing at her lips as she replies, “I accept your payment.” She lifts their hands back up, then down several times in some poor excuse of a handshake. “Pleasure doing business with you.” Her composure drops after a few seconds, and Jester dissolves into a fit of muffled giggles, pressing her forehead back into Caleb's shoulder.
And Caleb isn’t quite sure what he just agreed to, what exactly the implications of this deal are, if there are any implications to begin with, but it comes as somewhat of a surprise to him to find that he doesn’t actually care. It would have worried him previously, even to make a pretend deal like this, but it is Jester. He trusts Jester, cares for her, and for reasons Caleb can’t even begin to suss out, those feelings are reciprocated. Caleb knows this, even if he doesn’t understand it one bit.
They lapse back into an almost silence, for Jester has began to hum again, leaning back into Caleb's side so that he can almost feel the vibrations from her throat. Frumpkin is curled in her lap now, purring loudly as she continues to pet along his head, and it's a bit dizzying to how badly Caleb's wants to stay like this for a long, long while. It's another three hours before they have to wake Beau and Fjord, and Caleb has never been more grateful to be stuck on the midnight watch.