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Mollymauk was used to weirdness. He was born of weirdness, thrived in it, was proud of the intrigued or repulsed looks he received walking down the street. Weird was a badge of honour, a label he ascribed himself with pride.
However, the last couple of days had been a different kind of weird. A bad kind of weird that sent tremors through him, that rankled and ached and festered. A past he didn’t remember and didn’t want to know had caught up to him. It had literally stared him in the face.
“That skin you’re wearing,” the stranger - an oddly pallid, blankly staring elderly elf - said, pointing at him with a crooked finger. The accent was like his own, but stronger. The voice was soft like honey, but laced with venom. “It’s mine.”
Mollymauk blinked at them, a frown weighing heavy on his brow. A shiver ran down his spine but he tried to hold himself tall.
“The fuck, mate?” He gave a kind of half laugh, shaking his head and tossing his cigarette away. Just another nut lurking behind a tavern, he’d met plenty of those before. He flashed a crooked smirk as he turned to go back inside. “Maybe lay off the liquor, huh? Get yourself to bed.”
“My name is Lucien,” the stranger smiled and Mollymauk halted in his tracks. The name froze the blood in his veins. He turned his face, wide-eyed. The stranger chuckled. “Ah, it does mean something to you. Cree mentioned she’d met you. You didn’t manage to fool her, I’m afraid. After all, I would never wear such ugly, gaudy clothes.”
“What… is this?” Molly nervously looked around them, trying to see if there was anyone else lurking in the shadows. “What kind of trick is this?”
“No trick,” Lucien stepped closer. Mollymauk instinctively backed up, terror and confusion written all over his face. The elf bared yellowed, crooked teeth. “Look at what you’ve done to my body. I earned those eyes you’ve defiled…”
“You’re dead,” Mollymauk shrank back against the tavern wall, hating himself for how weak his voice sounded. Lucien laughed humourlessly.
“No,” he shook his head. “I am simply fractured. Despite all your colour and pretence, you are merely a fragment of me. A shard of my soul. You’re not even really a person, Mollymauk Tealeaf.”
“Fuck you,” Mollymauk’s lip curled in anger, the fury at those sharp, barbed words overriding his fear as he pushed the other away from him. “I’m more of a person than you ever were, fucker. At least when I die, I’ll have friends that will mark my fucking grave.”
Lucien scoffed, wryly amused by the outburst. “Perhaps we’re more alike than I thought. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all.”
He then sighed and began to slink into the shadows. “Enjoy your night and count your days, Tealeaf. We’ll put your theory to the test soon enough.”
Molly watched him vanish into the night, his chest tightening and his breaths growing laboured and raspy. He sank to the floor, closing his eyes and leaning back against the brickwork.
The mood amongst the Nein had also been the bad type of weird since he’d told them what had transpired. He’d tried to sound like he found it all a laugh, like the stranger had to have been drunk or stoned. And even if it was Lucien, they could take on some old elf, right?
Unfortunately, Beau and Caleb had scurried off to conduct research on souls before he could tell them not to - and had come back with a short list of possible causes for the fracture, validating the harsh words. It hadn’t made Molly feel better, listening to them both trying to work out what might have happened, so absorbed in their own cleverness to realise that he was right there - living, breathing and with feelings.
Caduceus had grown quiet and contemplative in contrast, a deep frown furrowing his brow as he sipped his tea and eyed Molly with a thoughtful intensity that made him uneasy. Yasha and Jester were trying to coddle him, their voices taking on this… almost pitying quality that drove him mad. Fjord and Nott were suddenly awkward, watching what they said to him and avoiding calling him by name. He hated it. It was like he suddenly wasn’t Mollymauk in their eyes anymore, like he was something broken that needed fixing. Something empty that couldn’t be filled.
“You’re not even really a person, Mollymauk Tealeaf.”
The words echoed in his brain and filled him with deep unease. He hissed quietly and stood from the table, batting away Jester’s hand as she reached out for him. He needed a walk.
“Molly, you shouldn’t go out there alone,” Yasha looked up at him, mismatched eyes full of concern. She began to get up. He held out a hand to stop her.
“No, Yasha,” Molly said firmly and despite his annoyance, he did feel his heart fall at the look of betrayal in her eyes. But he remained firm and felt seven pairs of eyes on him, their heated discussion about souls and fragments falling silent. He exhaled heavily. “All of you have been doing my head in. I need peace. For five minutes. I need you to stop reminding me that I’m not even a real person.”
“Mollymauk, that’s not what we -”
“We’re trying to help!”
“Enough, damnit,” Molly slammed a fist on the table, shutting them up. “I didn’t ask for your help. I didn’t want it. Just, enough .”
He turned on his heel and stormed out into the cold Zadash air, feeling the chill creep through him. He always had run cold - and now, he supposed, he knew why. There wasn’t enough of him inside the shell to fill it completely. Did it even matter if Lucien caught up with him? What did he have to lose, if he wasn’t really alive?
Stop that , he told himself, wrapping his arms around his chest and stomping through the city streets. You’re gonna let that fucker drag you down, eh? You’re better than that.
He paused in front of a shop window, taking in his reflection. He looked tired - but he straightened up, puffing his chest out just a little, trying to present the illusion of confidence he had tried to maintain for two years. He had always known he was weird, always known there was something not quite right with him…
So why did this revelation bother him so much?
“ You’re not even really a person, Mollymauk Tealeaf.”
“Shut up,” Molly snarled, watching his face contort in frustration and anger, teeth bared. And for a moment, instead of himself, he saw the infernal creature that strangers feared, devilry under layers of colourful clothing.
“Hey, man. You’re scaring the shopkeeper,” Beau’s deep, brusque voice came from beside him. He jumped, startled, looking at her then back at the window. Indeed, on the other side of the glass, a woman was watching him - pale and more than a little spooked. He gave an apologetic, awkward wave and stepped away, walking off with Beau trailing behind him.
“Everyone’s worried about you, you know?” She called after him, quickening her stride to catch up to him. Her legs were slightly shorter but she was fast and soon she was in front of him, trying to block his path. “You didn’t need to have a hissy fit like that. We’re trying to help.”
“Hissy fit?” Molly stopped dead, mouth opening in shock at her gall. He stared her down. She returned the stare, arms folded over her chest and a small satisfied smile on her lips. Oh, she wanted a reaction. Molly’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have any idea what this has been like for me? You and Caleb conspiring about seeking out mages to fix me. Yasha and Jester treating me like I’m a broken, pathetic doll. Fjord and Nott are just being weird! And don’t get me started on Caduceus staring at me over his tea like I’m an aberration!”
“I’m still the same me I’ve always been, damnit! I’m Mollymauk. No one - not even some fucked up, dead version of myself - is gonna take that away from me!”
“And there he is,” Beau gave him a pat on the shoulder, her self-satisfied smirk growing wider. “There’s the asshole I know and tolerate.”
Molly’s eyes widened as she pulled him into a very quick, slightly awkward hug - but he closed his eyes and sighed, feeling her squeeze him.
“You’re too much of a pain in the ass to not be a real person, Molly.”
He laughed, feeling a lump rise in his throat.
“You know what, I think I’ve figured it out,” Caduceus said, the low rumbling of his voice breaking the silence of the room. They were all in a cuddle pile, as was customary when they were short on cash and slumming it in a shitty inn. It felt right. It felt good. Surrounded by his friends, Molly felt at home again.
Molly cracked open an eye from where he was nestled in Yasha’s big strong arms. He chirped inquiringly at the firbolg next to him.
“Souls. I think… a tiny piece of something could become something much bigger if it really wanted to. If it found light and life. If it learned from experience. If it had enough love, it could grow and grow,” Caduceus’ gaze fell on Molly, then flickered to Yasha and then to the others. “And you have plenty of love right here…”
Mollymauk paused for a moment, feeling his heart ache and the corners of his eyes start to tear up. He reached out to take Caduceus’ hand and gave it a grateful squeeze, too tired to find the words to express his feelings. But the low rumble that came from the firbolg’s throat told him the message had gotten across.
Molly sighed and closed his eyes with a small smile. A fragment, perhaps - but whole in many ways. Lucien had better watch out. He wasn’t letting his body go without a fight.