Chapter Text
A blissfully slow afternoon the kind of that day rarely happened, which was probably why Kabru heard so much idle chatter as he walked down the castle halls.
Slow days had their pros and their cons, of course, it meant that Laios wasn’t meeting with anyone important, wasn’t accomplishing any particular breakthroughs, that life was as usual. Kabru suppressed a sigh at the thought, but well, everyone had to take breaks, himself included. He was wondering how to spend the rest of his day and had brought some routine paperwork with him to fill out, when he heard a very familiar voice arguing with another that surprised him more.
He turned around a corner to see Marcille the royal advisor and Chilchuck the locksmith sitting on couches in a large alcove and soundly talking each other’s ears off.
It was uncommon to see the half-foot man at the castle, though when he did he was typically there to see Laios or Marcille, with the half-elf everything but glued to his side anytime she didn’t have urgent business.
Always bantering, those two. It was endearing, if not a bit intense to be around. And awkward. It always felt like there were some inside jokes you weren’t privy to being referenced between the two of them.
She was hassling him about something, gesturing widely. He seemed to have resigned himself, sitting back limply in his seat.
"I’m telling you, flowers are perfect! Women love flowers! Get her a bouquet!"
"I am not making her count 22 flowers."
"No- 22 is the number of roses for when you're apologizing for being a massive jerk! It should be 23, meaning I want to be with you forever. "
"You're overestimating how much she appreciates math."
"I told you it's not that the recipient counts them, it's the thought that goes into it!"
Oh? His ears perked. He had already been walking towards them with the intent to greet them then be on his way, but this sounded interesting…
His smile came easy to him as he stopped at the entrance of the alcove. "Hello, Marcille, Chilchuck." He nodded at them politely, holding his documents down at his side.
"Oh, Kabru, hello! Are you done with today’s work?" Marcille replied brightly, meanwhile Chilchuck only hummed as greeting.
He waved the documents with one hand. "Just about, so I’ll draft some upcoming notices for the rest of today."
She smiled. "Never one to take a deadline lightly, as always."
Kabru was used to getting playful ribs about his tendency to finish and prepare things early. He was responsible and had to anticipate his coworkers and the king to forget things, if anything everyone should be thanking him every day. He would have rolled his eyes if his interest wasn’t being tugged in a different direction, so he simply chuckled briefly. "You two seem… Busy."
Marcille’s eyes sparkled. "We are-"
"It’s nothing." Chilchuck spoke over her, his tone leaving no room for discussion.
Kabru looked between the two of them, flicking his gaze to and fro with a question evident in his eyes.
He caught a glance of paper sheets spread between the two of them, filled with unreadable quickly scribbled down sentences and graphs. Was that doodle… Supposed to be Chilchuck in a suit?
He purposefully made his tone hesitant. "I heard something about flowers? Is it for a gift for someone? I know a nice flower shop around here."
Chilchuck groaned loudly, throwing his head back on the backrest. "I told you we shouldn’t be having this conversation here, people are overhearing." He spoke at Marcille.
Marcille leaned forward sharply, like a politician making her move. "No, we need to be serious on this! Last times we did that and you chickened out and kept getting distracted!"
And here came the inside joke effect. Kabru’s eyebrows relaxed as he stood there, forgotten, neither of them making any effort to bring him into the conversation.
What she’d said peeved Chilchuck, evidently. He squinted at her meanly, his lips pulled as if searching for something to say and hanging there without closure.
Hm, flowers, ‘get her a bouquet’, was it? Chilchuck and Marcille planning something, and it wasn’t their first attempt. A suspicion snuck up on him and it clicked as if it was the most evident thing in the world.
Marcille spoke again, not the least deterred. "You can make that face all you like, but we still need to figure out how you’re going to-"
"-Try and mend things with his wife." Kabru finished.
She blinked, turning back towards him. Chilchuck slumped into the couch further. Kabru smiled. Yes, he was still there, had been there the whole time in fact.
"May I?" He gestured to the papers between them, and Marcille nodded quickly, while Chilchuck massaged his eyelids.
They broke into heated chatter immediately, but Kabru blocked them out as he focused on what he was seeing.
It… Was a lot. It hadn’t been an hallucination, there was a scribbled Chilchuck wearing a suit. There was a plan haphazardly laid out and the steps were the exact thing you’d expect any clueless bloke to come up with. Show up to her doorstep dressed to the nines, give her a nice gift, apologize, take her out. Excessively optimistic, for an estranged husband and wife with a lot of tension brewed over years of separation and more.
Four steps only? Kabru ran his hand over his jaw as he poked holes through the whole thing. He stared at Chilchuck, who was arguing something or other. No, no, this needed at least seven more steps. And footnotes, on all of them. Sub-steps, even.
Kabru could feel Marcille had been rambling away at Chilchuck for a good while, her hands flying around as she spoke, and the poor man was sitting there with his arms crossed, confused and unconvinced, scowling. She’d clearly gotten carried away, as she often did when it came to that sort of thing, especially and infamously Chilchuck’s personal life.
Kabru huffed through his nose with an ironic smile, looking at them. Marcille was social and enthusiastic, but her mind strayed in fairytale books too much. Meanwhile, as Kabru had learned during one gathering, Chilchuck’s idea of a mood setter was a crass joke. Lost little lambs, clueless to the game of courting and seduction…
They clearly needed his help.
"I see what’s going on here." He said gravely.
Kabru put his hands on his hips. "Chilchuck is right, this is no place for this conversation…"
Chilchuck threw his hands in the air towards him with both exasperation and relief, as if gesturing ‘See? Common sense!’ to Marcille.
"… We need the war room for this." Kabru smiled with determination, not betraying his humor.
He anticipated the way Chilchuck’s face slumped with dread, and felt vindicated when Marcille jumped to her feet with a cry of agreement.
She was eager and quick on her feet, ready to lead the way through the halls, but Kabru stopped Marcille with a hand to her shoulder.
"Marcille, can you let us go on ahead? Give us men some one on one time, hm?" He smiled saccharine, just enough to let her know he had something in mind.
Her first instinct was wariness, squinting at him in a way that said ‘do you intend to steal my prey?’. He simply widened his smile, and she huffed.
"Sure, I’ll grab everything in the meantime. You have five minutes." She jabbed a finger in his direction and he winked back. She sighed and bent down to reach the papers on the table.
Just as soon, he turned around and repressed the impulse to put a hand on Chilchuck’s shoulder, urging the half-foot man to walk beside him.
It was difficult to take a hushed conspiratorial tone when their height difference was this staggering.
Chilchuck looked even more uncomfortable than before, alone with him. Kabru felt slightly insulted, but he supposed he shouldn’t be. He wouldn’t be putting up with all of that if Marcille wasn’t indeed his friend.
To be courteous, he even gave him a moment of respite, staying silent as he set the pace to a slow walk. He was gratified when Chilchuck’s shoulders ever so slightly untensed.
But he was here with a goal and a task, after all. "So, Chilchuck," He eased in, the impression of a predator swiftly closing in on its victim still blatant. That, or a court aide with something to brief and plan. "I’ll need the details if I can hope to help. Do you prefer briefing me, or for me to ask questions and you answer?"
He sighed harshly through his nose. "Ask. Make it quick."
Straightforward as always, Kabru was pleased to see. "On what terms did you part?"
"She left without a word during the night." He said, tone neutral but noticeably forced.
His eyes widened as they stepped. Cold.
Step. "Do you know why?" His own voice was neutral, effortlessly so.
He pursed his lips, taking a moment before answering. Step. Step. "No."
He hummed. "How long has it been since?" Step.
"Four years. Well. More like five now."
Kabru’s steps faltered. The words hit him like a rake to the face.
He frowned in horror.
"Why?" He did his best to keep his voice level.
It still wasn't enough. Chilchuck frowned, snapping his head towards him. "What? She left. She never so much as sent a letter." He huffed under his breath. "As if I was dead to her."
He caught up to Chilchuck's unrelenting pace. "Well, did you send her any letter?"
He clenched his teeth and scoffed, scowling at him like someone who knew what reaction his answer would garner. "No."
Kabru followed his walking in silence for a few seconds, working through it all. "For four years."
"Yes." He hissed, a warning in his tone.
Kabru flexed his hand, instead of bringing it up to his mouth in mortification. It was hard to drop the ball this hard, he had to admit. Kabru had his job cut out for him.
Did either of them even want to get back together? Four years! Wasn’t time supposed to mean even more to half-foots? Not that it was all that different to tallmen's sense of time, and that was all the more his point- Kabru thought four years was a long time to stay in a feud.
Well, he supposed it wasn’t unthinkable, Chilchuck was a private man. Kabru had never interacted with him enough to figure him out, and most of what he’d learned during his time gathering information on parties of The Island was about the half-foot guild, and his professional skills. The man was infamous for being closed off and unfriendly— unless he was a couple of drinks in.
So what was it that had kept them apart for so long? Resentment? Being left without a word like that… But surely there was some reason why she had wanted the separation, too. Insecurity? Possible. If indeed he didn’t know why she’d left— he hadn’t looked like he was lying— then why wouldn’t he feel insecure, really.
By his tone, he doubted his not reaching out was simply out of respect for her boundaries.
So, which was it, because he blamed her, or blamed himself? Some mix of both, most likely.
Luckily, counseling was his specialty.
He just had to glean clues from what Chilchuck did know, then. "What was your home life together like?"
"What do you mean?" Chilchuck’s confused frown was audible in his voice.
"What do you mean what do you mean?" Kabru spoke perhaps too hastily, spurred by the dread that shot through him.
"Well I don’t know. What sort of answer am I supposed to give?"
Defensive. Not a good sign.
Alright, okay, still workable, change the angle. "What does your wife like?"
"Lasagna."
"I… Meant hobbies."
Chilchuck blinked.
Kabru blinked back.
Right, problem solving through food had maybe been too common for him and his ex-party members this last year.
Chilchuck mulled the question over for much too long. "Sewing, cooking… That sort of stuff. She used to like hiking and dancing."
"Used to?"
"Well yeah, she stopped doing those. I think."
Kabru gestured with his hand to keep going. "Do you know why?"
He shrugged. "No clue. You’d have thought with the daughters all independent now she’d be partying all the time, with the house empty."
"Okay, but what about when you were home? You didn’t do anything in particular together?"
"Well, we went out occasionally. But in general we were both too tired for that sort of thing."
"So… What did you do?
"Well, with the daughters gone… It’s been pretty quiet around the house really."
Kabru frowned. "And did she like that?"
"Well, yeah, probably… Why wouldn’t she?" The answer was casual, thrown out, a minimal amount of thought put into it.
It dawned on Kabru like the sun after an all-nighter, blinding and dreaded. The answer had been in front of him all along, really.
Chilchuck didn’t know his wife.
Oh. Oh no.
"How often were you away for work?"
"How often did I leave on work travels, or how long did those travels last?"
His voice threatened to crack. "Both."
And Chilchuck answered in measures of months and weeks and lord. Oh lord.
They finally reached the war room and Kabru let out a silent sigh when he latched onto the doorway to catch his bearings, after Chilchuck entered the room.
He could fix this. He could fix this. His plan was rapidly growing into one with 43 steps and had too many variables, but anything will be an improvement to this.
He stepped into the room with renewed resolve, giving a blinding smile to the guards nearby over his shoulder, who had been eyeing him worriedly.
He walked to the war table, dropping his documents on a nearby desk with a smack. "Mister Chilchuck Tims, follow my lead and you’ll rekindle your romance in no time!"
Chilchuck had already found a chair he was lounging on. He looked at him, unimpressed. "Hmn."
His smile strained. 44 steps. "Step one, strengthen your willpower, this will not be easy. Do you want this or not?"
He grumbled something he didn’t catch, but after a moment nodded with some more gravity. Good.
This was important.
"Step two, not unrelated to step one... Recall what you’re fighting for. You love her. Do not lose sight of the goal."
More important than pride. That was, only if he'd allow it.
His eyes flicked away and back. "Uh, yeah."
Hm. Unsatisfying. Kabru would need to prob at this, then. "How did you two meet?" He started helpfully, getting the ball rolling with a precise destination in his mind already.
Chilchuck leaned back further into his seat. "We were childhood friends. Grew up together and all. In more ways than one, heh."
Kabru’s eyes lit up, jumping onto the opening. "And what did you love about her?"
He looked surprised at the question. He leaned his chin onto his hand, weight against the armrest, and looked down in thought. "We’ve always stuck it out together, even when we were kids… Our parents were friends, you know, so we'd regularly have dinners with our two families, and they were always long and loud but she was the only part of them that never got boring, or annoying."
He huffed, his lips pulling upwards. "She’s kind and smart, and has always committed to what she did. She’s beautiful." He listed off, something soft entering his eyes.
"She’s always known what she wanted." He paused, and his smile disappeared again as soon as it appeared, his tone turning sour. "And what she didn’t want."
Divert. "How did you two get together?"
He blinked, taken out of his thoughts. He looked more guarded when he answered, this time. "We were young and in love," he said young like someone said stupid, "so we decided we should stay together forever."
He hesitated, then tacked on, as if an afterthought. "And, uh, and she got pregnant."
Kabru hummed. The picture was clearer now.
But there was love there, that meant there was something to save in the first place. He just needed to… Jog his memory a little. Surely he knew things that would be useful.
"Step three!" He suddenly clapped his hands together. "Anticipate her wants and needs. Strategize, adapt, overcome." He did a flourish of the hand, spoke smoothly, confidently. "After this, the rest will be easy."
Chilchuck looked at him unimpressed now. "Not my fault if she doesn't tell me."
"Do you think she might have felt a certain way that made her think..." He chose his words very carefully, within a second. "Feel like it'd make no difference, if she did?"
"Who knows! I mean, women might as well come from another world, am I right? I sure as hell don't understand them."
Ooh boy. "It is a rough thing, not to be understood by who you love most." He let his words hang in the air, vaguely.
He soured seemingly understanding there was something implied, but not what. "Hey, what’s that mean?"
If emotional intelligence couldn't be relied on with him... His sage nod came to a standstill, and he opened his eyes again with all the calm of a sea at rest. "How attentive are you in bed?
He smirked, let himself fall back into his seat. "Haven't you heard? I'm a father of three, I know how to-"
"Okay, step 13, be sure to go down on her-" Kabru gestured with the room's wooden plotting rod to the graph he had drawn.
"Woah woah... Yeah?" Chilchuck squinted, a cautious sort of look in his eyes. "Is that a... thing women like?"
Kabru was so focused on keeping his mouth closed so sighs wouldn't escape that he almost let one through his nose instead. "Chilchuck, do you know how to tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue?"
He lurched forward, as if it was a ludicrous idea. "What-? No??"
Pathetic.
kabru took his pencil wordlessly and sketched up another graph, but it seemed Chilchuck had reached his limit. "Hey-" He spoke up with frustration, argued that this was all pointless technicalities. He glanced to the side too much to be natural but frowned twice as hard to make up for it. Of course his pride wouldn't allow him this much, and here Kabru had always thought of the man as someone hardworking who put in efforts, and yet now he was more motivated to talk loudly right into his ears despite Kabru's best efforts to pacify him. Kabru was about to retort again when-
"Is boy time over yet?" A bonde head popped into the doorway with an exasperated tone, and Chilchuck whipped his head around to her. When Kabru looked up though, she looked like she was fighting back a smirk. "Sooo, sounds like everything went well. Any progress on the plan?"
kabru did allow himself a small huff this time, laughing at the gall of her. Marcille rubbing salt into the wound only encouraged his frenzy though, and he stabbed fingers to his brow. "About that, let's give Chilchuck some minutes, I've harassed him longer than I should surely."
A pretty excuse effortlessly made. Chilchuck huffed while Kabru headed to Marcille, who blinked when he deftly put a hand to her shoulder and guided her out the room. "Huh? Okay-"
As soon as they were out of eyesight, Kabru whispered heatedly, very aware of half-foots' fine hearing as Mickbell would always lord it over him. "Did you know about all this?! Four years!"
She blinked again. "That he and his wife haven't been in contact you mean? Oh, yeah."
"And you're... Not worried?" Kabru squinted now.
She looked at him with a confused frown now, as if he was acting weird. "Hm? No, I have no reason to be." Her suspicious look was already gone, replaced by an easygoing smile and a comfortable, confident shift of her weight. "Love is eternal! Chilchuck's a good man and a virtuous husband, I'm sure she'll be overjoyed to see him again." Her smile brightened at the mere thought.
Kabru frowned at her. Ah, right. Elven time.
"You know, when Falin left the academy all of a sudden, her and I didn't see each other for four years, too, but we were both so happy to reunite, of course! I'm sure it'll be the same case for them."
And this was Marcille, ever the optimistic. Falin wasn't exactly typical, either. He crossed his arms and thought, though, he supposed she had a point. He ran a hand down his face, either way it was clear this little caucus wouldn't go anywhere. Without a word he walked back into the room and returned to his spot at the front of the table.
Chilchuck's eyes followed the confused Marcille walking up to the chair facing his—who then excitedly pulled it as close to the plans on the table as she could— before resting on Kabru once again, unimpressed.
He put on his best winning smile and clapped his hands once. "Alright! Let's backtrack. You didn't miss much, Marcille, we're still probing for the best angle."
"Chilchuck-" The wood rod thunked against the list he'd written and pinned to the wall in lieu of Merini's map. "Step three, sub-step one: recall what she loved in you."
The short break did nothing for his mood, clearly, because Chilchuck broke into a groan and a sigh— simultaeously, that took skill. "How should I know...?"
"Oh!" Marcille immediately jumped on it though, eyes sparkling.
"Maybe how confident and capable he is, or how caring and devoted he can be— because even when he doesn't show it he's always thinking about you... Or maybe how much he can make you laugh when he jokes. He's witty, even with his crude sharp tongue, after all- And how reliable he is probably makes her feel safe! He's hardworking and faithful, so I'd have my heart at ease even when he's away, and even if I miss him I know he'd be worth it."
Kabru blinked.
??? I???
Chilchuck noticed Kabru's befuddled smile, and waved him away. "Oh, it's just easier for her to put herself in my wife's shoes like this. It helps. Sort of." He seemed to understand his explanation wasn't doing anywhere near enough explaining as his grimace deepened. "It's not the first time she does it."
He said it as if that gave him less questions, not more. It wasn't the first time?? And when, pray tell, had she last? Did this happen on the regular?
Marcille was focused though, it seemed, because she wasn't looking anywhere near them, instead leaning back in her chair and nodding to herself. She continued without batting an eye. "And his virtues! A monster even confirmed his being virtuous!! Chilchuck's told me he used to be more 'naive' and 'trusting' before, too, so you have to imagine he used to be warmer and softer once, more open..." She closed her eyes, smiling in thought.
Chilchuck looked to her now, frowning nervously, hunching on himself as if feeling a little too naked, Kabru noted. "You stop-"
Kabru couldn't help the concern coming through his eyes as he looked at the both of them now, fist coming up to his mouth. Was having her on their consult for this a bad idea after all? He understood better than anyone how it could be to put yourself in someone else's shoes to analyze them, but this technique was creative. Too... personal.
His gaze turned contemplative, watching her enthusiastically argue with Chilchuck again, any filter absent even as she piled up praise after praise that anyone who didn't know them would question even more than he was.
... Or impersonal?
Well. At least it offered some results, that the man who did actually know this fabled wife didn't have the knowledge or imagination to bring to the table. Chilchuck had changed, hm. Indeed, spending more than a decade with someone was bound to mean the person you were with wasn't the same one you'd met.
Maybe she was the greatest tool they'd have after all, if the central witness was determined not to help his case. He put his theory to the test.
"Chilchuck, what does your wife like to do?" He looked squarely at Chilchuck, even when his true target was the elf who sat across from him.
He saw the 'this again?' in his glare- what he didn't expect was the smirk suddenly bursting on his face with a laugh. "Well she definitely likes se—" He abruptly stopped, stared at the table. "Hmm. Yep I think I see your point a little bit."
Marcille looked aghast, but Kabru kept his face neutral. A couple of seconds passed of Chilchuck chuckling it off, after which, when he realized they were still expectantly looking at him, he suddenly got a deer in carriage lanternlight look. "Uhh... Beer-tasting...? Cooking? Baking? Cleaning? Doing the girls' hair? Umm."
Kabru observed how different his reaction was when Marcille was there.
His answer could only be called the opposite of an improvement from earlier, as he devolved into listing house chores.
He soldiered on, though. "Uh, knitting. Sewing- crochet...?" Did she really like all three or was he just not even assed to remember which she preferred? Then Chilchuck exclaimed triumphantly. "Embroidery!"
But his victory cry was met with a loud silence. Kabru eventually spoke up, as nicely as possible. "Is that all?"
"Screw y-"
Marcille interrupted then, confused. "Didn't you tell me she liked dancing?"
He looked back to her, leaned back into his chair again. "Well, she did before, but even then it was more of a 'nice enough to do once in a while' thing than a hobby, you know."
"Because you wouldn't dance with her more than once in a while until even that became never, I bet!" She accused. "If I were her, dancing would remind me of our wedding. It'd make me think of the loud and bright celebration dance back then, even if it's just you inviting me onto our living room floor for a slow dance in the quiet. It'd make me feel warm, it'd be easy to believe I'm loved, because from Chilchuck it'd always sound like I love yous- but you do have to say that more too!"
"Marcille, focus." Kabru chimed.
Her tone sounded nostalgic, almost. "But it wouldn't be nearly as fun to dance alone though, and I wouldn't be in the local ladies dance club either. I'd like picnics, and I'd regularly go into town, and browsing stores would be my guilty pleasure. Since handicrafts are a convenient hobby to do at home, I'd look for new patterns and pretty colored threads. I'd even make myself a dress, so then I could try and wear the cute styles that are otherwise expensive, and while working on it I'd wonder what my husband's reaction would be when he sees it on me. In the end, he'd never comment on it, though. While looking for cookbooks I'd also find interesting novels in the bookstore shelves, and now when there's a theater play in town I like to-"
He stood by and watched her theorize in rambles akin a madwoman's ravings, waiting like a viper until he could best bring them to the next step. "Those are all great suggestions, Marcille."
"Since we don't have anything else to go off, why don't we go with some of those?" He flipped through the graphs and the pages of hurried handwriting from when he'd tried to coach Chilchuck one-on-one, until he found a blank page and grabbed his pencil, listing off dates and events in a makeshift calendar.
"What do you mean? You have an idea?" Marcille scooted closer, trying to peer over on his paper.
He started his explanation, half his mind still focused on writing. "So I think at this point, what we're learning is that once they've done the initial greetings and apologies, Chilchuck and his wife shouldn't be alone at home but instead going out somewhere. There should be some external event or activity to get the ball rolling, so they can remember what it's like to have fun together like when they were younger and more in love, not putting the pressure of them reconnecting on just their ability to have a conversation alone-"
Marcille cut in like she'd just heard nonsense. "What? But the reconciliation should happen at her house!"
Kabru kept writing. "Sure, he'll pick her up at home but then the next step's-"
She interrupted again. "You have too many steps! Things should come from the heart once you set the scene right. And d ancing in the candlelight of the living room of the home you made a family in is a way more romantic scene than dancing at some... public event...! If they go out it should be somewhere nice and fancy where they can talk unbothered and uninterrupted, and fall in love together all over again before going back home— like a restaurant!"
He stilled this time, looked up straight at her. "Marcille, I can't believe I'm saying this, but you lack vision."
He tried to talk over her outraged gasp but Marcille was out of her seat already, grabbing the war pawns from the side table and coming back.
"Give me that-!" She swiped his pencil from his hand and grabbed a page, it already had writings on and she flipped it over to its unused side. She fell silent, focused on the lines she was drawing.
Kabru wasn't on the same wavelenght, though. He sighed. "Listen, putting the full weight of the reconciliation on them talking means the atmosphere will be a lot more tense and focused, there'll be a lot more occasions for Chilchuck to commit faux pas."
She revealed her crude drawing: a map, if he was generous, of a house drawn flatly, full with a paved path leading up to it and flowers growing next to the windows. She doodled a house plan, and he wondered if she knew what his wife's house's rooms looked like or if she was just making it up.
He continued without blinking. "Making it so there's less pressure on them talking means there'll be fewer steps for him to follow, too. By going out on a date together, it's like concretely proving himself that they can be a good fit, that Chilchuck has changed for the better, is more caring and gentlemanly and-"
She slammed the pawn of the queen and king on the house. "What, so he can't do that alone? You have to believe in him! Have some faith-"
Kabru picked up the king pawn, looked at it sharply and spoke coolly. "Right, Chilchuck has to speak from the heart, is it? With what h -"
"Okay I'm right here-" He piped up from where he was cleaning under his nails.
Kabru quickly cleared his throat. "-I know my limits, and coaching will-"
Marcille interrupted, looking up from her plan, taking on a final tone. "So what'd you prefer, then?"
Kabru steeled himself. "A festival."
She immediately scoffed.
Kabru wondered, despite it being entirely impossible, if his eyes flashed red as much as he felt they did. I’m going to throttle you.
He pointed to her drawing. "What are these candles and decorations you drew in those rooms? Didn't you want him to show up on her doorstep with roses, or is he actually inviting her to his store and asking her to make believe it's her house for the sake of your little scene?"
"T-that's just to give an idea! How do you expect all your little steps to go like planned when they'll be in an environment you can't control at all?"
"Oh? I thought you didn't think controlling them was for the best, leaving them to be free as birds?"
She growled in a high pitched frustrated cry. "I do! I'm just saying this goes against your plan too-"
"The important thing, Marcille, is balance. Chilchuck has to be direct, and-"
"He has to be romantic!"
Kabru scowled. "Your plan has holes, listen to me-"
"My plan has holes? I think you're confusing it with your own-"
"Hm? Then what is this impression of emmental cheese yours is doing?"
Chilchuck laughed, prompting Marcille to throw him a betrayed glare.
Kabru took in a long breath. "Marcille, alright, picture this..."
He walked around the table to stand next to her, took a moment of quiet while Marcille sulked to draw a map in the image of the Merini square in town, full with its fountain and some game stands. He was done with a satisfied sigh and picked up the king pawn again, places it on his page, near the fountain. "Imagine... You're at a festival with your estranged husband. He apologized on your doorstep with flowers yes, and you talked and he invited you to it. He made sure you'd be free today, of course, because he's a considerate man now."
Marcille stayed quiet, tentatively hearing him out. He looked back to her as he held her wrist and guided her to place the queen pawn right beside the king one. "You're at a festival with Chilchuck, and there are people standing and dancing and talking all around you, confettis in the air. When you arrive, the festival folk offer you both a flower crown and face paint, and you laugh when you see Chilchuck wearing daisies, and even if he protests at first you're the one who paints cheery patterns on his face up close. You talk about memories while walking around, and then game stands catch your eyes. You both test your luck, and Chilchuck tries to impress you and win you a prize, he's both clumsy and dexterous, and when defeat happens it's shared between the both of you, you smile and soothe him easily, and move on to the next one. And then, you've reached the center of the festivities, in the open space people are dancing, in a loud and bright celebration dance like at your wedding. He invites you to a dance, sheepishly, hopefully." He circled the queen with the king, in a gentle motion.
"He has petals and confetti in his hair and paint caked and cracked on his cheeks from smiling while you two spin and sway. All day he'd been a bit out of water, and it made your own uncertainties feel more bearable, like you two are in the same boat. Like this he feels more like the young man you knew, easily affected and destabilized, before he grew away from you, it reminds you of before he had his tough carapace up and kept you out, too. And then when the afternoon is dwindling into evening, the sky is showing the first oranges of its sunset, and you're thinking of walking back home, the one you two have reminisced about and longed for since around two hours ago when you started wanting to kiss him, Chilchuck stops and whisks you away." The pawns glided down the page, stopping behind the walls of a miscellaneous house.
"You run down a street where everything gets quieter, no one around because everyone is at the festival. And there he tells you he wants to experience everything and more again with you, that he wishes to make you laugh like today every day of his life he has left. You two kiss hidden away from the world, under a banner of colorful festival flags with tousled flowers in your hair, facepaint smudging and mixing together along your love." Kabru finished acting it out, the king pawn giving a peck to the the queen pawn's face, retreating as quickly as it had approached. He looked up at Marcille face, who was frowning down, thinking.
"So… Mind catching me up when you guys are done playing dolls?" Chilchuck was grimacing when Kabru looked up, all hunched shoulders and crossed arms, eyes frowning and flicking between him and Marcille.
Well, he'd embellished things, of course, and what he'd described wouldn't be easy or even quite enough, but if it convinced Marcille… He looked back to her, waited.
Marcille kept looking down at the pawns for a while, on the paper festival hastily deawn by Kabru. Then she seemed to resolve herself, and spoke up with the confidence of someone who'd thought it up herself: "It's best to do it at a festival after all."
Kabru smiled, satisfied with himself, allowed himself a moment to savor all the payoff of his setup. Delayed gratification truly was the best, despite the impatience of some people.
"What next?" Marcille asked immediately, looking at him with a brow raised as if to gauge him.
Chilchuck's grimace didn't go away, and Kabru realized that what he’d seen earlier as reluctance and frustration hid a truer feeling: dread.
"Now that we agree on a plan, we should choose an upcoming festival! Having a concrete date helps with motivation and planning. This is where..." He fetched the list he'd drawn earlier. "The calendar comes in. First one up is the Apple Festival coming up at the end of the week!"
There was silence then, until Chilchuck broke it. "… Am I really going to win back my wife at the Apple Festival? Can we pick any other festival in history."
"You said that last festival, and last festival too!" Marcille countered.
"And every time I'm too optimistic about the next one being half decent, apparently."
It’d been four years and a half since their separation, and Chilchuck had still not reached out to her. Clearly, if left to his own devices this would never happen.
"So you would prefer the sheep festival, later this month." Kabru offered.
"Nevermind."
His brows raised as if to say case in point. Chilchuck came back with more complaining soon enough though. "I thought you and Kabru wanted romance," he sneered, giving the word a theatrical tone, "Apples, really?"
Marcille cut in then. "Hey, do you even know how long it took to be able to grow orchards in Merini again? Laios and I worked hard for these apples to be possible!"
"Laios shat real hard, yeah." He cracked a smile when Marcille gasped- a shortlived victory before she slapped his shoulder.
Both their mouths opened at the same time, and Kabru knew he had to hurry the conversation along before they derailed it to banter all the way to their own world. "As perfectly appropriate as the apple festival would be, half a week is a little short on time to prepare this operation." He crossed it out on the calendar.
Marcille mused, wracking her head for ideas. "Since it's been a little under a year since Merini rose from the sea, festivals and holidays around here are all either very old or very new..."
Kabru nodded. "And the ones borrowed from surrounding regions."
Chilchuck pitched in. "All the ones I'm thinking of are no good. Like okay well, obviously not the Atonement Festival, you know, the one where we burn offerings to make up for all the bad things we've done during the year..." He blinked, brought his hand up to his chin as he made an attempt at strategy. "Unless that would be a good way to apologize to her...?"
Kabru hummed, equally thoughtful. "That'd be a good idea, if it wasn't that festival is pretty somber, not great date material. Usually there's a lot of people crying." He paused, but was struck by an idea and hastily added. "Or do you think she'd like to see you cry? You can hide some cut onions in a pouch to make sure you can do it on cue-"
"Let's go with something more sincere, otherwise what's the point?" Marcille steered them back.
"Then what about the remembrance Festival?" Chilchuck threw again.
Kabru couldn't help an amused huff at the thought. "And what will you be remembering, the ghost of your marriage?"
Marcille looked at Kabru with a fond sort of unimpressed exasperation, but then laughed herself from seemingly nowhere. "We'll have to put the fun in funeral!" Her eyes clouded over as quick as they'd widened in mirth, though. "... No. Bad idea."
Kabru nodded. "Too on the nose, some subtlety is important. Something more positive, too."
Chilchuck knit his brows. "Maybe... Mother's Day...?"
Marcille wordlessly put her head in her hands.
He was quick to try again. "The Moon Festival?" He offered.
Which Marcille was quick to shut down. "That's in way too long."
Kabru chimed in then. "How about Kahka Brud's Flower Festival to celebrate the end of summer? It's in a couple of weeks, if I recall."
Chilchuck cocked his head. "... Ah, right, that's coming up. It’s called that, but it’s more about dancing, really."
"YES!!" Marcille's smile is almost splitting her face, eyes sparkling.
Chilchuck preferred being needlessly critical to celebrating. "Why didn't you start with that one?"
Kabru only smiled back as reply.
"Aren't you the one who lives in Kahka Brud?" Marcille supplied in his defense.
Chilchuck's frown eased as he looked her way and answered. "I never went to that one. I was usually working, so the schedule never lined up enough."
Kabru's brow raised. "Doesn't the Flower Festival go on for days?"
Chilchuck glared. "I'm a busy man."
He hummed back. "Speaking of though, do you happen to know if she’ll be free then"
He stilled. "I... Don't know her schedule at all."
"Oh, you should send Flertom a letter asking about it then, right?" Marcille suggested brightly.
Chilchuck winced. "My wife... Doesn't really like surprises, so it might be best to send her a letter about it directly."
Marcille let out an awww, but Kabru nodded. Doing that avoided the worst case scenarios. "Good, good, so now we have both a timeline and a plotline, so to speak. The scene is set, the date is all but confirmed, now comes the real challenge- Coordinating the date!"
Marcille cheered while Chilchuck groaned.
"This means, coaching Chilchuck to be on his best behavior and put out all the stops to show off his charms. We'll still have to talk about how you'll apologize, too."
His hand was running down his face. "Practicing apologizing, seriously?"
"Of course! It's the most important part to get right, no hiding behind sarcasm!" Marcille said.
Kabru nodded. "And here, we even have someone that can play the role of your wife for practice right here." He joked, pointedly looking at Marcille with a smile.
"You can't be serious."
Marcille chuckled, her smile turned equally teasing, unaware the jab had also been meant for her. "Knowing you, it wouldn't be overkill. I can imagine it, you rushing through the apologies with a quick sorry, brushing it under the rug like old musty breadcrumbs!"
Chilchuck grumbled, but Kabru didn't hear him disagree.
"I swear, if we weren't here you'd even forget to bring a present."
Chilchuck blinked with a frown. "Huh?
"Huh?!" Kabru gaped at him. No way, there was no way... Even now his expectations managed to lower. Getting a present was basics!
"I thought the flowers were the present?"
Marcille waved that notion away. "No, no, a bouquet is more of a greeting gift, it's also needed but it's different."
Chilchuck grew confident again, brows raised. "Different how? Do you know how those stupid things cost? They don't even last."
"Hey, even things that wither are worth it! They're pretty for a time aren't they? For the gifter it's the intention that matters, and for the gifted it's the memory that counts, you know? Pressing one of the flowers can also make for a great souvenir of your reconciliation!"
Her eyes closed with her smile then, insisting with an innocent tone. "And with 23 roses you'll have plenty to do it with! Remember, 23? You can say I love you with a flower bouquet— but you do have to say that more too!"
Kabru had to jump in at that. "23? what is he, a hair's breath away from calling himself a jackass? No we should go with 30."
Marcille soured. "That number doesn't have any soul to it."
"Marcille what does that even mean." Chilchuck despaired.
Kabru cleared his throat. "Whatever that means, I'm right and 30 roses is best. As for the actual present, that's where the likes and hobbies we brainstormed earlier come into play."
"Can't I just give her some money?"
"Absolutely not." Both Kabru and Marcille instantly replied in perfect harmony.
Marcille continued. "You're lacking the point, it's something for her from you, something for her to keep and cherish! It's the thought that counts, so there has to be thought put into it!"
Chilchuck sighed. "So what then?"
Kabru spoke before Marcille could. "Well clearly you know her best, but if nothing else comes up some jewelry is always a safe bet, especially when given sparingly."
"She's really not into that sort of thing."
"Has she ever been allowed to be? That'd be because you're not thinking of the right kind, I'm sure. A lot of bracelets feel non-intrusive and modest, for example. Does she have a favored gemstone? A favorite color?"
"Uh, I'm not sure...?"
"Well something handmade is always really sweet! Had the date with your wife happened at home, you cooking the dinner would have been a really nice gesture..."
Chilchuck winced. "I've never been a terrific cook, so making lasagna..."
Marcille let out a joyful cry. "Really? We could practice together! I have a really tasty family recipe~!"
"That's nice, but a dish isn't quite the right mood for a present here." Kabru reminded.
Marcille thought. "Well, by something handmade, Chilchuck is good at sewing so I meant it could have been something like that? A keychain of some sort- maybe a locket to put a pressed flower in?!"
Kabru sagged in his chair. "Well, those are specific, but they're good ideas." He gestured with his hand. "In either case, remember it's later this month, so you have some time to think it through, Chilchuck. Clothes, accessories, some materials for a hobby like embroidery or something practical you know she'd appreciate, or something handmade... And you remember you're friends with Merini's king, right? If there's anything fancier you think would be nice, we can try to find and get it to help you." He and Marcille smiled to Chilchuck, only two high-spirited pairs of thumbs-up missing to the image they were making.
"Thanks. The markets have plenty and I'm not a beggar yet, but... Appreciated." He said as casually as he could. Some sincerity was nice coming from him.
That it was a rarity was still a bad omen however... Chilchuck didn't know his lover's favorite color? Did he relly have no idea for an item she would appreciate? He knew some people cared less for such trivia and focused on the big things, but... Since said big things had crumbled between them, too, maybe Chilchuck could do better on showing care through the little things, too. Kabru was pretty sure Marcille had asked him about his favorite color ages ago, and with her relentelessn- err, her determination, he bet she'd gotten an answer out of him.
He looked back at him, rubbing his face with a tired hand. He was impressed at how cooperative and willing he was to answer things now, when he used to be so infamously secretive —gathering info on him really had been hard back in the day. He wondered if it did have something to do with the elf beside him.
Kabru's cold panic had passed, but the problems remained.
Could they fix his communication issues? Enough that he could meet his wife's emotional needs, and be vulnerabke enough to give a meaningful apology, have a heart to heart? How communicative is his wife in the first place? Would Chilchuck bail when the time would come? Was his avoidance going to win over his will to meet again? Kabru knew one thing well, and it was that you can't help someone who refuses to be helped. Even one month felt all too short to turn him into an outwardly caring and loving sincere man.
He looked at the two of them, arguing again, of course, since Kabru had looked away for more than two seconds. Chilchuck, and the elven woman who somehow both kept him in line with no nonsense scolding and kissed the ground he walked on, throwing flower petals on his path ahead of time to announce the coming of virtuous ser Chilchuck Tims.
... And hold on, it didn't really add up then, did it? When they chat —against his will— about her (lack of) love life and her type, she was always talking about the perfect, gallant gentleman— the type that didn't exist. The type that Chilchuck most definitely wasn't, at most halfway to trying to be maybe.
So then, why was Marcille talking about him like that? Talking with him like that?
Last time Kabru was listening to what Marcille was saying, it'd gone something along the lines of "So you show up with a bouquet! She's all pleasantly surprised and smells it and goes to put it on the kitchen table and she lets you in," so when had it gotten to "then you'd get down on one knee-"?
"You do know we never really divorced, right?" Chilchuck pulled a face.
"Well duh of course, it's not like you ever call her your ex-wife after all."
He looked taken aback by that, not that Marcille noticed.
He looked at them still, stared with intent, noticed the way she anticipated his needs, didn’t give up when he retreated into himself. He noticed how he never actually pushed her away. How even as he grumbled, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye to see her reaction. How all his focus honed in on her whenever he smirked and threw her a jab.
Marcille and Chilchuck got along really well, didn't they. REALLY well.
And even though he was watching them and listening to them, he still couldn't possibly see what possessed Marcille to crawl up on the table towards Chilchuck then. "No no no you HAVE to hold her hand, and to protect her when someone bumps into her- It'll be crowded! And then you get on your knee and renew your vows!" Kabru didn't know if he should call what she was doing shouting or squealing.
She'd advance on hands and knees to Chilchuck's end of the table, hair coming undone around her positively making her look like a demon, even leaning over and into his space so much so that Chilchuck had to lean back in his chair. A flush was starting to form on his face under her intensity, and that was when Chilchuck's head turned to throw Kabru a pleading save me look.
No, Kabru thought, what Chilchuck needed was trial by lion pit.
A smirk slowly overcame Kabru. Oh, he had a plan after all. "Marcille is right, Chilchuck needs some practice. So why don't we set up a practice date?"