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nocanonhere · 5 months

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Happy Wyll's Week! Day 2/7

-Books That Bind (SFW): Wyll is such a charmer! Based on one of my favorite childhood books, 'Anancy and Mr. Dry-Bone' by Fiona French. I still have my copy of it. (Centered around my Tav, Aiya. Elf-Dragon Sorceress)

This was one of the more morose traveling weeks. Far be it from him to judge people based on religious preferences, but the longer he spent in The Gauntlet of Shar, and the more he listened to Shadowheart’s prayers, read about the ideologies, and considered the circumstances surrounding her indoctrination? Well…

It was damp and cold, despite surrounding the camp area with torches. He had not been on the reconnaissance team today, and when the ladies had returned worse for wear after a series of Shadowheart’s justiciar trials, the remaining camp members took over.

Gale was normally on cooking duty more so due to talent than demand. But he immediately began making something out of the supplies when he noticed their team coming back looking shaken and tired. Wyll gladly offered to take watch, even though it technically was Karlach’s turn in the rotation. She blew him a kiss before collapsing in her tent.

They cared about Shadowheart, enough that her recounting the trials had even made Astarion sneer. Wyll understood the man’s disdain for some of their companions’ religious fervency. But he still refrained from saying anything too harsh (to their faces) regarding their zeal. Plus, Shadowheart was so passionate while discussing it, eyes alight while describing what it felt like to pass each trial; to hear her ladies voice and know she was seen. Astarion isn’t quite…kind, but he would have been even more cruel to ruin that moment for her.

The whisper of tent flaps parting had him flicking his eyes to the direction of the sound before they continued with scaling the perimeter.

“Trouble sleeping?” He asks quietly.

Aiya sighed. “Yeah.”

Wyll watched her take a seat on the other side of the brazier. The coals had already started to smother, and he reached for the stoker on the ground to hopefully dredge up more light. So he could see her better.

So he could see better!

He wants to ask her if she’s alright, but isn’t sure that’s appropriate. All of them were so far from being okay, individually and collectively. Although he’s sure if he asked, she’d understand what he was asking.

Can I do anything for you now?

“Did you want to rest for a bit?” She offered, catching his eyes across the warm glow. “I might be up for a while.”

He appreciated the proposal, but declined.

“Absolutely not. You’ve been through the thicket today, and who knows what tomorrow will bring. Maybe some warm tea might help you relax.” He suggests.

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Maybe. If I wasn’t under so much pressure my skull could burst.”

Wyll’s smile faded, and when she noticed, he eyes widened and she sat up straighter.

“Sorry. Things are gloomy enough already, aren’t they?” She huffs, attempting to add laughter in there to lighten the moment.

“You’re certainly welcome to speak your mind,” Wyll offered. “I just…wish there was something that I could say or do to help lighten your load.”

She doesn’t answer right away, choosing to look off at nothing in particular. All that was ahead was more abyss.

“Funny,” she murmurs. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

He swallows. “You needn’t concern yourself with that.”

“Shouldn’t I?” She snaps quickly.

He recognizes that she’s getting on the defensive. He hadn’t said anything rude, but he’s spent enough time traveling with her to recognize the crippling independence she carries. He wonders what it was like at a baseline. Was she this openly protective always, or did their current circumstances wind her up with tension she couldn’t unravel?

“Not tonight,” he concludes, smiling at her anyway. “Besides, moments like these are for other topics.”

She relents, her shoulders sinking. She nods in agreement. Then gestures to her side.

“Have you looked at any of these yet?” She asks, referring to the small stack of books they collected from the library earlier on.

“Just the first one,” he answered, glad that the conversation was steering elsewhere. “I made it a few pages, but I don’t know how many poems about Lady Shar I can consume in one sitting.”

That makes her laugh. “Too maudlin for you?”

“Yes, exactly that.” He laughs, then stutters. “They…they are beautiful, but-“

“Not the moment for those topics?” She asks, looking back at him.

“Gods, no. This environment is enough on its own.”

“Agreed,” she nods. “So?”

His brows raise. “So?”

“Tell me a story.”

The laugh that exits him is sharp enough to echo. He immediately looks around him as if he has awoken the whole temple with it.

“I’m security and entertainment now?”

“Come on,” she encourages, smile tired but brighter than it had been a moment ago. “I know you know at least one that’s nice enough.”

“I, um…alright. Sure.” He stumbles, sitting forward a bit.

“Of course you don’t have to if you really don’t want to, Wyll.” She adds, not unkindly. “I’m content to just sit here.”

“No, no. I will be the teller of tales. Just let me think of one. There’s so many.”

Her hands are rubbing opposite arms, and Wyll finally begins.

“This is one I read a long time ago. I mean, I had to be maybe seven at most.”

“Oh, I hope you’ve got your details down.”

“I enjoyed this one so much, I’m confident I remember it well.”

“From nearly twenty years ago?” She asks, she laughs. “My expectations are high now,” she adds sarcastically.

“Alright. Make yourself comfortable. This is the story of Anancy, Mr. Dry-Bone, and their romantic pursuit of the lovely but stoic Miss Louise.”

He closes his eyes and begins. He recounts every color the words described, sets the scenes perfectly. Both Anancy and Mr. Dry-Bone wanted to ask for Ms. Louise’s hand in marriage, but she told them both she would only marry the man who could make her smile, for she had never smiled in her life.

Mr. Dry-Bone was nothing short of that; an animated skeleton. But he was dressed in fine clothes, blessed with money and jewels, and committed to wooing Louise with his magic tricks and fanfare.

Anancy was poor, but full of spirit. He knew who he had to contend with; Mr. Dry-Bone was the most well dressed creature he’d ever seen. But he had no resources to trade for better clothing, and no magic to back him up.

Rather, he went to his friends; the gators, the birds, the snakes, the tigers, and borrowed an item from each of them, hoping to string together a fine suit to present himself in.

When he arrived at Louise’s house, he saw playing cards whirling in the air; dancing monkeys with beads around their neck. Dry-Bone was certainly putting on a show!

But Anancy noticed, to his glee, that Louise was leaning on one of the pillars at the front of her home. Arms crossed, and definitely not smiling.

But if all this glitz hadn’t impressed her, what could he possibly do that would set him apart?

But he was already here, and once the dancing troupe settled down, he walked forward and bowed to Ms. Louise. He had no speech prepared, no songs to sing, and certainly no dancing monkeys. But he braved it, and asked for her hand in marriage all the same.

And she agreed! Because she had never seen an outfit so ridiculous in her life. Tiger suit, feathers sticking out of the cap, all manor of things. He looked positively foolish, and it made her smile as bright as the sun.

And they lived happily ever after.

Wyll clears his throat and opens his eyes to gauge his audience’s reaction. When he sees Aiya’s expression, he deflates.

Maybe a children’s love story was a bit too light for her? Certainly, he could have recounted one of his stories from the field, with all the grandiosity that he did for other crowds, but he hadn’t wanted to talk about himself.

“Uh, well,” he begins, lifting a hand to rub at the base of his right horn. “It was certainly funny and inspiring as a kid. But maybe now-

“You missed something,” she interrupts.

His eyes widen. “Wait, what?”

She nods, then bites her lip. “It wasn’t on the condition that she smile. It was based on if they could make her laugh, for she had never laughed in her life”.

Wyll is out of words, for once. Because she let him sit here and tell a story she already knew, AND he had it wrong.

But also, she knows it!

She continued, looking down at the ground, that pensive look still on her face. “And his outfit was so asinine that she laughed and laughed and laughed. She laughed till she cried.”

She looks back at him then, eyes a little shiny. “Gods, Wyll. I haven’t heard that story in forever. I’m happy that it ended up on this side of the map. It doesn’t really originate from here,” she says, smiling gently then.

He’s still at a loss, but happy that he had not in fact displeased her. He had just surprised her, pleasantly, if her slowly warming look was anything to go by.

“You had this text too?” He asks, all teeth and crinkled eyes.

“Yes,” she answered, but shaking her head. “It was a gift from my monah. Who had gotten in from her monah, and so on. It’s old”, she laughs. “But I loved that story as a kid. I read it a lot.”

“Monah?” He asks. Because he does not immediately recognize that as Elvish, but does presume it means ‘mother’.

“My mother,” she answers, confirming.

“Elvish?” He draws out.

“No,” she whispers, a hint of mischief in her eyes, but not elaborating.

“Ah,” he nods. “I’ll respect your privacy. Although I’d certainly enjoy hearing more of your language in the future.”

“I just like to keep it close,” she responds, shrugging. “It’s so unlike many of the customs here. So…different. I never really liked explaining any of it to people. They listen to judge, not immerse.”

She shakes her head then. “But I don’t really want to venture into that right now. I’m just so glad you know that story. It’s a classic. And you told it perfectly.”

He inclined his head. “Perfectly? Even though I messed up a key detail?”

She hums, standing up and stretching her limbs. Wyll looks away to give her some privacy, but looks back a moment later once he hears her arms fall back to her sides.

“Smile. Laugh. Not a big difference really. The point is that he brought her joy.”

He meets her eyes for a moment, neither one of them saying anything else for a beat.

“Glad I could bring you some as well,” he speaks lowly.

She takes a step to the side then, preparing to head back to her tent. But he didn’t miss the shy look that passed over her features.

“Thank you, Wyll. Goodnight.”

She walks off quickly, arms folded and steps quiet. He waits until she’s back in her tent before responding.

“Goodnight, Louise.”

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