Chapter Text
‘A balmy 89 degrees today in downtown Nicodranas and marginally cooler by the shoreline— Make sure all you beach goers load up on that sunscreen because we won’t be seeing any cloud cover until this evening!’
Essek tries hard to drown out the weather forecast blaring from the small antenna television his usual coffee shop has perched on the thin bar top. Like the TV, the shop is minuscule with barely enough room behind the counter for the register, coffee machines, and aggressively friendly barista. The rest of the shop has long, viney plants dangling from the ceiling, art hanging on every wall between tall crystal windows, and just enough room for two booths and two stools clustered together at the end of the bar. It could even be called cozy if not for how Essek has to wedge himself in between a crowd of patrons just to get his order in.
Why a decently popular cafe couldn’t invest more in square footage escapes him. Why they keep the hunk of static junk at the counter, which seems to be capable of only playing public access stations, around also escapes him. Most mystifying is why they have the weather report playing of all things.
It is hot today. It was hot yesterday. It will be hot every single day until the rainy season when it will become mildly warm and as humid as the gates of Essek’s personal hell.
‘Speaking of the beach, today’s beach warning level flag is green with little change expected, so to you stragglers still inside: get on out there!’
He hates this town. He hates the intermittent waves of ice cold air conditioning that turns his sweat clammy. He hates the influx and din of the other customers, all yelling to be heard over one another. Currently he most hates the man in front of him who keeps edging backward into Essek’s space as he shifts his weight from side to side while waiting for his order.
“Iced black!” The barista chirps all too brightly, setting down the order at the far end of the counter, right where Essek will have to push his way past the man to get to.
“Excuse me— ah!” Somehow inexplicably startled by Essek’s presence, despite being right behind him, the man steps directly on all of the toes of his right foot. He whirls around, eyes wide when Essek yelps and dares to reach out for his arm.
“Scheisse! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were there—“
“Evidently,” Hisses Essek and pushes past him, knocking the hand away before it touches him. The man had looked properly apologetic to begin with, so Essek takes a bit of sick pleasure in the further shame his tone brings to his face. From his accent, he’s clearly a tourist, so with any luck he won’t ever see him again anyway.
‘Temperatures are predicted to be cooler tomorrow with a high of 85 and low of 80 in the late evening, with slight chances of rain overnight. Humidity levels—‘
Essek snatches his coffee without a word and escapes before he hears the rest of it, barreling past the tourist and out of the street. Better to not know his fate than to resign himself to it.
As the bright sun pierces his sensitive eyes, ( curses , he forgot to put sunglasses on before leaving the cafe) he takes a large gulp of the ice cold drink. He fumbles for his glasses and jams them on his face and grimaces as he feels them slipping down with the collected oil and sweat beading over his skin.
Today, his name is spelled— damn it , he must have taken the wrong drink. Instead of another wildly incorrect spelling of his last name, ‘Caleb’ is scribbled in curlicue letters on the side of the iced coffee. At least it’s the same order, and it’s better than yesterday’s ‘Thellis’ and certainly better than last week's ‘Deyless’ .
The mixup still finds its way onto his tally sheet of ways this city is actively out to get him. He’s been coming in for the last five months for Light’s sake, surely by now the small rotation of baristas should have recognized him as a customer and at least bothered to ask how his name was spelled or bother to tell him which order was his.
Well. Perhaps that’s a good thing in the end. Anonymity was the intended purpose of moving here to begin with.
Condensation gathers on his cup quickly as he braves the sunny, arid streets of Nicodranas. The occasional wafts of ocean breeze that manage to slip between the buildings and alleyways does little to cool as the dogs of summer quickly approach. Essek has technically only spent one summer here, the one previous when he moved at the tail end of it, nearing the rainy season. At that point, it was tolerable if he discounted the damned humidity.
He feels thoroughly betrayed now on all counts by the sun that refused to set until late into the evening and the scorching pavement beneath his feet.
He pushes his sunglasses further up his nose, furrowing his brow in defiance of the summer tourists crowding the walkways. All smiley and laughing, hardly a stitch of clothing on them, turning their faces up to the sun in ways all too reminiscent of home. There are so many of them, sweaty, loud, and absolutely unaware of anything other than themselves. He had heard of the dreaded cruise ship crowds from his neighbors once, but this was ridiculous.
Ducking into a side street cluttered with outdoor restaurant seating, he follows his memorized path back to his home— apartment . Back to his apartment. The sterile building resembling nothing like his actual home other than the name on the deed. It takes all of fifteen minutes from the coffee shop to get there, but with the amount of sweat that’s gathered under his arms, neck, and brow, he may as well have gone on a five mile sprint.
Two lefts, then a right, and a near miss with a cyclist brings him to the towering complex, thankfully enough ways past the neighborhood line of the Opal Archways and into the residential areas of the Open Quay so that the tourist population is less. Marginally. As he approaches, an unfamiliar van putters away in the main drive, and outside the lobby doors stands a moderately built half-orc dressed in a garish purple vest and khaki cargo shorts. In one hand he had some kind of clunky scanner and in the other a box that looks like it’s gone to the nine hells and back.
“Thelyss?” It comes out like ‘Thuh-Lies’ . Because of course, it does.
“Yes?”
“Package,” the delivery man grunts in a thick twang, his tone a direct contrast to the vest he wears. Just as quickly as the parcel is shoved into his hands, the man hurries off and hops back into the humming van. In the defining roar of the engine, it peels off, careening around the corner and vanishing from sight.
Looking down, Essek eyes the box suspiciously— He hadn’t ordered anything online recently, and had canceled most of his subscriptions, so… fan mail? Ice plummets into his stomach— Had his address been leaked? The box is of tough making, but still considerably roughened and taped up to survive a calamity and back. Clearly someone had intended it to arrive safely. Several stamps in various languages pepper the front, pointing to international shipping and half obscuring the ship from address. But on closer inspection, Essek only needs to read the first few numbers to recognize it.
“Gods, what now?” He scowls and tucks the package in the crook of his elbow and continues to the main lobby.
The box thuds heavily on the kitchen table when Essek tosses it onto a pile of miscellaneous junk mail. He’s already decided to make himself a proper meal before dealing with whatever nonsense it probably had inside. Thank goodness he’s planned on testing himself by making some arduous and complicated Xhorhasian recipe for dinner. A stew requiring a complex blend of spices and meat, much of which were poor substitutes and others he’s paid an arm and a leg for on this side of the continent, which needed half a day of careful monitoring with absolutely no time for mysterious packages from his home country.
Hours later stew is made, rice is slightly burnt and Essek methodically chews a piece of somewhat tough beef. He swallows thickly, staring at the box as if he could see right through the walls of it. His birthday wasn’t for a good long while, and the only Rhosonan gift giving holiday was still months away. It was certainly too small for furniture other than junk passed off as an heirloom.
“Which is entirely possible,” Essek says to himself, scraping every last price of rice onto his fork. Light, when had he become such a coward?
“Always,” he answers himself again with an exasperated sigh, drinks down the rest of the broth, and goes about trying to find scissors. Still, he lords above the box for at least a minute before steeling himself and going to work on the ridiculous amount of tape. Carefully pulling the top open, he sees two envelopes sitting atop scrunched up packing paper, both addressed to him. He opens up the one with his name in a fine, looping script and nearly shreds it to bits after one look at what’s written.
‘From the desk of Dierta Thelyss’ the letterhead reads with an all too familiar logo stamped beneath it.
‘Essek, please find enclosed a stipend for your comfort. Luxon’s blessing to you.’
Beneath is a check, Essek doesn’t even bother looking at the amount and has to resist crumpling it. The absolute nerve of her— as if he didn’t have a job after his retirement, as if he’s nothing without her, as if after everything she’s still pitying him. He walks to the small antique cabinet by the front door and jams it into the drawer along with the other’s she had sent throughout the year.
“Damn junk!” He shoves the drawer back harshly, having to try three times before it slams into place, nearly sending his key bowl crashing to the ground.
With a deep inhale, Essek calms himself before returning to the box. He rolls his ankles slowly. Curls his toes, still a little sore. Squares his shoulders and tucks his chin. Perhaps it was an heirloom that she had sent, and if so, perhaps he’d find some catharsis throwing into the ocean.
He picks up the remaining letter, simply labeled with the first character of his name. This one he opens with a little more care.
‘Es,
Hope you’re enjoying your retirement community! I’m sure you and your other neighbors are getting along great. You know that they say all the nuts roll over to Nicodranas!
In all seriousness, Nicodranas still seems like an odd place for you to retire. Even after a year I still don’t get it. Not much ice down there from what I’ve looked up and enough sun to outshine the Luxon. Your reasons are your own, though and it kept the tabloids going for weeks! Things have died down here mostly, but I can tell your team is missing its star. Would love to see you, maybe I’ll come visit when the season is over.
Light be with you, Es. Write back this time.
Ve
P.S. Hopefully this made it through customs, the paperwork was very confusing? Got you a gift to remind you of your roots. Even you were a beginner at skating once, hopefully this gets you back to a simpler time. Enjoy, and maybe risk a little embarrassment once in a while.’
Essek reads the letter twice, then carefully folds it back into shape, tucking it back into the envelope. Has it been that long? When was the last time he had spoken to his brother? He holds the letter to his chest as his eyes wander to the packing paper in the box. Customs though… That was mildly concerning. He wouldn’t put it past Verin to naively ship something hazardous to local wildlife. Nevertheless, he picks through the packaging to reveal yet another box, similar to one that would hold shoes, decorated with sleek designs and a logo he doesn’t recognize. Lifting the lid, he balks.
Matte, black leather. Sleek and unbroken laces. Lug nuts. A wrench. Wheels.
They were roller skates.
Verin had sent him roller skates.
Captain Tusktooth
think I saw that guy jesters been talking about
Saint Jester
which guy? the guy with the tooth?
Vethhh
the guy with the tooth?
Yasha🌸⚡️
the hot one?
Saint Jester
omg the hot one???
Captain Tusktooth
Yeah the handsome one
BeauBaBeau
wow can’t call a dude hot fjord? that’s crazyyyy
Captain Tusktooth
“Hot” feels objectifying!
Captain Tusktooth
I delivered something to him today- a package from Xhorhas.
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Vethhh
drop the addy
Captain Tusktooth
No!!
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BeauBaBeau
booooo
Saint Jester
Booooo!!
Vethhh
coward
Caleb Widogast
I saw him too. He stole my coffee. After I stepped on his foot.
Vethhh
let’s kill him‼️
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Captain Tusktooth
You all are awful