Chapter Text
Lia, for all her fierceness, was a bit of a bleeding heart. He normally loved this about his sister, the way she firmly defended others and didn’t run away from a fight. But now, they were caught up in some nonsense that had nothing to do with them and would likely get them killed before they ever made their way to Baldur’s Gate and the future Rolan was trying to build for them there. This was the way they always bickered, trying to keep it quiet or private, then getting louder as they were both passionate and quick to anger, Cal, decidedly calmer, trying to keep the peace.
“You should stay,” the gray haired man said. They were an entire group, bunched in the walkway.
They introduced themselves, but Rolan barely listened. These were adventurers, not refugees, and would likely just stop to trade before the druids warned them away. He did prick up his ears a bit at one named Shadowheart, thinking she might be another tiefling, but no, apparently half elves also sometimes changed their names to make a point.
And then their gnomish bard spoke, “Lyrical Flo,” she bowed and played a flourish on her violin, making Lia laugh. Lia and Cal could be such children sometimes. So eager to be happy even in the face of danger. They could be on a cart, attacked and eaten by goblins tomorrow, and Cal would just say, “hey, remember that funny gnome?”
He didn’t realize that she was waiting for a reaction from him, so he simply dipped his head in acknowledgement.
“Tough crowd!” She pouted in mock indignation. She was rather pretty, and Rolan was by no means immune to a pretty girl paying him attention. She had pale pink hair captured in a low messy bun and bright eye makeup around even brighter eyes. “If this isn’t to your taste, I can play the lute and drums, and also I sing. Only the bawdy tunes, mind, but they might get you to smile.”
“He doesn’t smile,” Lia warned her.
“You are looking at Lorroakan’s newest apprentice.” He held his chin up in pride, surely these adventurers knew about Lorroakan. Maybe Lia didn’t recognize what an honor it was, but others should. Someone had to be able to see that he had good reason to be rushing to Baldur’s Gate.
“I’ve heard of Lorroakan,” Konstantin said, frowning in thought. “Isn’t he- I have heard some bad things. Not about his magic per se, but that he’s perhaps not personable.”
“Geniuses rarely are,” Rolan responded. Konstantin nodded, giving him that.
“He’s the current master of Ramazith’s Tower, isn’t he?” This man had hair graying at the temples and wore wizard robes, so he certainly should have heard of Lorroakan.. “Gale,” he reminded Rolan of his name.
“Yes.”
“I’ve never met him, although the rumors are that he’s a bit of a cad. Must have some skill though, if he’s braving the riddles of the Tower. Must have been a difficult apprenticeship to get.”
Rolan preened under the attention. “I wasn’t expecting him to write back to me at all, honestly. But something of what I said must have caught his eye, some aspect of my own talents.”
“Hopefully we will take care of the goblin issue quickly, and you can be on your way, then,” Konstantin said. “I want to talk to the man who helped us at the gate,” he gestured towards where Wyll was teaching sword techniques to some of the children. “It was nice to meet you.”
As the group left, and even Cal and Lia settled back into their routine now knowing they would be staying for a while, the gnome stayed behind. “I know Ramazith’s Tower, a little bit. I play in the square right in front there sometimes.”
“I, well, haven’t been yet. Is it a nice part of the city? I doubt I will have much time to myself, definitely not at first at least, but I haven’t traveled much outside of Elturel.”
“Oh it’s lovely,” she smiled up at him. “The Tower’s awfully tall, I bet you can see the whole city, and a great view of the water. I knew someone once who climbed to the top of the Temple of Umberlee and she said she saw all the way to the Moonshae Isles. I’m sure that’s bullshit, but maybe you could from the tower. The Chionthar can’t be that wide. Anyway, I don’t know the Wizard there, but I know the shop, and it’s all pretty impressive. You must be good.”
Rolan’s chest loosened slightly, the tension he had been feeling for the last tenday now resting gentler on his soul. He had to build himself up, to discuss his accomplishments so loudly because his siblings would only ever believe half of it anyway. But if someone were to genuinely listen, he could perhaps be more honest himself. He didn’t really know how to talk to someone without that defense mechanism. “So you are Baldurian?”
“Born and bred!” She posed a little. “Parents work in the fancy gardens in the upper city. You can’t get real druids in the city, not like this lot, with all the concrete and stone, but most gnomes don’t mind. They do their gardening and their druidcraft, but like being able to nip over to the shops at the end of the day instead of rusticating in the wilderness.”
“And these parents named you Lyrical Flo?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No,” she shrugged, “just regular Florence. I became lyrical later.” They talked more, briefly, not about anything of importance, but Rolan felt more at ease than he had in a while. An attractive woman thought he must be talented, and wanted to spend this time with him. “I’m glad you’re staying. I don’t mind having someone worthwhile to talk to when we stop by, but they could really use you if it comes to a fight. See what spells come out of those clever hands.” She winked and walked away before he could formulate a response.
He found himself watching her go a little longingly, wishing she had more time to spend with him. He wanted to see if he could settle into talking normally and discover who he is when he doesn’t need to prove himself. He had dinner with his siblings from the communal gruel pot and they see the members of the group going around and talking in the background but by the time he thinks he could engage any of them again, they have left. Was she flirting with me? Rolan wondered, and wished he had someone’s advice to get. He would never be able to endure his sibling’s teasing so that was out. In another world, where he was able to make friends more easily, he would have gotten to know Dammon better, become friends. Then he could talk to him, man-to-man. He had isolated himself instead, and this was the sort of thing he lost by being so alone.
}{
Rolan did his share of the refugee’s busywork; he never sat idle when Lia spent time patrolling the wall and Cal was helping Okta cook. But even after, he often had too much nervous energy to relax or lounge in any way. There were always boxes or barrels to be moved, and sometimes he was able to tire himself out enough to fall asleep easily. He had loaded several chests onto a cart for their inevitable eviction, when he looked up to see Flo and Astarion trading at the Grove entrance.
There was something about the flirty way the elf leaned into her space so he could be heard as she spoke to the short race merchant that twinged at Rolan’s insides. It was a comfortable intimacy. When was the last time he had experienced that with someone other than his siblings? The other tieflings here were fellow citizens of Elterel, but he didn’t know any of them, didn’t feel a connection or friendship. He wished for one moment that he could be like that, touch someone else so freely and comfortably.
Then he was left off kilter at the realization that on top of all of that, he was also kind of jealous because it was her. He wanted to touch her, specifically, with that easy assurance of intimacy. It had been a long time since he’s had a crush, and he had no idea what to do with the feeling.
She looked up and saw him immediately, “hello, wizard Rolan!”
“Hello, Regular Florence.”
She laughed, a full belly laugh of surprise.
}{
“The Adventurers were back today,” Lia mentioned over dinner. It was the same gruel as always, with whatever vegetable that needed using on top.
“Oh yeah?”
Rolan tried not to appear too interested. The way his siblings spoke to him about the things he cared about rubbed him the wrong way too often, an entire crush would have Lia teasing him back and forth for a week at least, and he wouldn’t be able to handle it gracefully. He didn't want any poking at something he didn't fully understand himself.
“They got a new member, and guess what? She’s this huge tiefling, completely on fire inside and all! Just insane, she looked so cool.”
“What? You saw her?” She had Cal's attention now.
Lia nodded. “She spoke to Dammon about the whole fire situation, I think. Some of the kids told me she’s practically famous in Avernus, but I don’t know. She just seemed pretty awesome. I think she was walking next to Lyrical Flo on purpose so she looked even bigger.”
Rolan waited in the hopes that Lia would mention Flo’s name again naturally, but she didn’t. “Who all came with them this time?” he asked, as casually as he could manage.
“I think it was all of them,” she counted off on her fingers. “Konstantin, of course, he’s their leader kind of, right? And Shadowheart, Gale, Wyll obviously. Karlach, that’s the new one. Lyrical Flo, what’s her face the froggy one-”
“Lazel,” Cal supplied, with a slightly dreamy look on his face that said he had a reason for knowing her name.
“Lae’zel,” Rolan corrected his pronunciation.
“Is that all? Oh, the hot elf guy. Astarion. That’s everyone, right? They apparently have a dog now, but they didn’t bring him. Guess he’s the one looking after their camp.”
“Anyway, they all came because they’re planning on completely destroying the goblin camp next. Flo told me they snuck in a little, right? And it’s a full on cult. Like, no civilians, everyone sucks, they’re going to find Halsin and kill the whole group.” She mimed cutting a throat with her spoonful of gruel, slopping some onto the table. Times like this, it was hard to remember that Lia was an adult, a well trained fighter even, and not one of the children gleefully practicing with wooden swords. Still, the most dangerous part was up next. He would find it difficult to not hold his breath for the result.
}{
The camp was full of nervous energy, everyone knew they needed sleep, but the idea of raiding an entire goblin camp was too nerve wracking to allow for much rest. Flo sat at Karlach's tent, pretending to prep their weapons, but really burning off some anxiety before bed.
“That Dammon guy is rather nice, don’t you think?”
Flo laughed at Karlach’s attempt to act casual. “Oh, is he good looking? I never noticed.”
“I said nice.” Karlach would probably be blushing, if there was any way to possibly tell. “Okay then, tit for tat, what’s your type?”
“Hm. Alfira? Although I have sworn off relationships with other bards. Not worth it. Ikaron, he’s the slightly flustered guard guy. I think that’s cute. Rolan, definitely.”
“I didn’t get to meet him. Is he the blowhard?”
“Depending on who described him that way, probably. He has some talent, and I get the feeling if he wasn’t talking about it all the time, no one would ever notice it. I kinda relate.” She shrugged. “Also I had an uncle like that. Always said he brewed up the strongest moonshine this side of the hells and everyone said he was talking out of his ass, but he swapped the hooch at one of our parties and people weren’t seeing straight for weeks. But they missed the chance to partner up on the business, cause they didn’t believe in him. Like, sometimes it’s not bragging, it’s just trying to get other people to see it, too.”
}{
Halsin reached the grove before any of their scouts had heard the news. The goblin leaders killed, the roads were clear once again. Of that one danger, anyway. Konstantin and the adventurers were clearing out the rest of the goblin horde, but would be back shortly. Halsin didn't speak of any casualties on the friendly side.
Most of the tieflings went into action immediately, gathering their things and preparing for the journey, also keeping an eye out at the main gate, ready to cheer on the returning heroes whenever they showed up. Rolan had been battling with himself all afternoon, feeling eager and anxious, but not wanting to appear particularly eager or anxious. He was near the back of the crowd when the scouts gave a hoot from the top of the wall. They were back.
Rolan heard her fiddle playing long before he saw them,
The goblins gone,
the roads are free,
home to the Gate,
we soon shall be!
chanted several voices in high spirits, some of the refugees joining in after a repetition. The improvised music might be simplistic, but he had to admit she knew how to work a crowd. Lyrical Flo was side stepping through the group, talking about their exploits with large hand motions and cheers, even as Konstantin seemed more modest and calm about the situation. She pointed to Wyll, describing some feat of his to the children, then pretended to be the fearsome creature he had apparently defeated. A spider, perhaps? Based on the way she held her elbows at odd angles. Even the small tiefling Rolan had only ever seen crying seemed enthralled.
“This is worthy of our thanks, and of a celebration. We will join your camp tonight, if you’ll have us?” Zevlor asked.
"Of course!" The paladin's armor flashed in the sun, before continuing on to speak to everyone who wanted a moment of his time, making the rounds to ensure everyone was safe, happy.
When it was Rolan's turn, he couldn't help claiming that he could have taken out the goblins himself, but his tone was joyful, his words more playful than truly arrogant. “My thanks, truly.”
Konstantin, burdened with an abundance of sincerity, had no issue letting that bluster roll off his back, but for once, Flo wished she was the face of the group, the one doing the speaking and dealing. Rolan was practically begging to be teased, but in a gentler, sillier way than Lia did. She hung back, the way she always seemed to be doing when Rolan was there, wanting to talk to him on her own terms.
“Did I hear gratitude dripping from your lips?” Charm was hard, when you had to crane your neck up for him to see your flirtatious smile. This is why she never bothered with the tall races, not for anything more than a cheeky wink to increase what coin they dropped in her hat. That, and the way they always acted like she was a child, not a fully grown gnome with a sex drive and everything.
“You didn’t hear anything,” he smirked. “If I’m grateful, I’ll take it to my grave. You won’t hear a word.” She scoffed, delighted at him teasing her back.
“We may joke, but you would actually have been good against those goblins. They kept lining up just right for a Thunderwave and Gale would always miss the opportunity. If you didn’t have a good reason to go directly to Baldur’s Gate, you wouldn’t be so out of place staying with us.”
It wasn’t an invitation. He could tell, it was just a statement. But also. It wasn’t not an invitation.
“And my family, of course. I couldn’t leave them.” In another world, perhaps he would have joined them. It would be nice, to have another wizard to talk magic to around the campfire, to have enemies he needed to strategize against, to have someone like Flo admiring watching him work, ready to praise him at the end of the day. His breath caught at the fantasy, suddenly longing for something he had never even considered before.
“Of course,” she said softly, a longing there that he was sure he wasn’t imagining, even though it was difficult to hear beyond the cheers and general din of the clearing.
}{
With the preparations for the journey long complete, the refugees began getting things set for their party. While the adventurers settled things with Halsin, cared for their weapons, and bathed, they began rolling in wine barrels and carrying seats and anything they could manage. Rolan looked around the camp, trying to picture what their daily life here must be like. Flo’s tent was obvious, sheet music and quills littering the space in front of bold pink fabric. He could see a glimpse of the bedroll inside and looked away quickly, feeling as impertinent as if he had been digging through her clean underclothes. It wasn't long before the drinks were being passed out and whatever fresh food wouldn't travel well was being shared around.
Flo and Alfira stood in the centralized spot they had decided was a stage, although it was no different than the other dirt surrounding the camp. "Gather around for a number never done before and likely never again, two bards brought together by chance and no opportunity to practice together!" There was scattered laughter, everyone eager to enjoy themselves and forgive a less than professional performance.
“A one and a two!” Alfira played her lute, but Lyrical Flo didn’t lift her fiddle, instead she sang, a gnomish song about Garl Glittergold and his ax. Her voice wasn’t polished the way he would have expected from a bard, but the tone was true, and she acted out the song in a way that had everyone laughing and singing along to the chorus by the end.
Rolan had only seen her in her fighting clothes before, but this must be what she casually wore in camp, a tight shirt that left her midriff bare, breeches, and pointed toe slippers. He wished he had something else to wear a little more casual than his robes, something perhaps that would make her perceive him in a different way, that would encourage her to look at him again.
Flo then picked up her fiddle and played so Alfira could have a break and join the dancers. She was good, the music fast and lively, even Rolan could not stop his feet from moving, and if the person he wanted to dance with had been free in that moment, he would have asked her to join him. He whistled through his fingers when she finished and bowed, giving the space back to Alfira.
}{
Cal and Lia had staked out a spot for themselves, with a log for a bench. They were at least one drink in by the time he joined them, mind a bit buzzy with wine himself, good moods all around.
“Give us a show, Rolan,” Lia cheered. He nodded, he'd been doing this since they were young, long before he had realize he had a particular aptitude for magic. He performed Dancing Lights, the basic spell he had learned as a child, but he did flatter himself to think he cast it with a certain flair.
His siblings lovingly ribbed him, but there was applause from the side, where Konstantin and Lyrical Flo stood watching. Rolan bowed and made a pithy comment and wondered how he hadn’t noticed her there, watching. Why hadn’t he done something more impressive for her? Kon moved on to speak to Cal and Lia, but Flo kept her eyes on him.
“That was beautiful, and I’ve seen Dancing Lights a million times.”
“It never gets old, does it?” He smiled, the drink in his belly making him a little bold. He stood a little closer to Flo than he normally would, leaned into her space as he talked, the way he had seen Astarion do the day he realized his feelings. He noted, appreciatively, that she didn’t back up or lean away, her eyes sparkled up at him the same as they always did.
“No, I mean I have seen Dancing Lights a million times and it’s never looked that way before. It’s never been that beautiful.”
“Well,” he was torn between bragging and apologizing, insecurities and pride and wine all battling for his words. “I haven’t had the most traditional wizard education. I’ve had to teach myself mostly, so many of the spells are a bit different. I think that’s what impressed Lorroakan, my drive and ambition. That was sort of… Rolan’s Dancing Lights.”
“Ooh, there’s a song there. Rolan’s Dancing Lights. I can hear it.” She instinctively reached for her instrument, but she had left it by Alfira. “Well. I’m supposed to be enjoying this party, and anyway I wouldn’t want to interrupt Alfira’s lovely playing. When I write that song, I will come by the tower and play it for you.”
“Please.” The idea that he could inspire anything from Flo, much less a song, was amazing. He wanted to continue talking with her, didn’t want this moment to end, but his mind was blank. All he could think about was pink hair and a playful laugh. He was saved, momentarily, by Lakrissa coming by, handing them more wine. Flo didn’t seem in a hurry to leave him, either.
“Come with me,” she tugged at his sleeve.
“Where?”
“Literally anywhere else. Anywhere I don’t need to keep the biggest smile on my face because everyone else is happy. Five feet into the underbrush even. Just away.”
He nodded and followed her down the beach past where Wyll had been keeping to himself but was now quietly talking to Konstantin. She nodded at the paladin and kept going to a more secluded area, shielded from view but close enough to still hear the music and laughter.
“It’s a bit of an odd party, isn’t it? We’re all drinking so we can feel happy and ignore the undercurrent of melancholy.” Her eyes looked distant. “Yes, we’re celebrating, but you all leave on a dangerous journey tomorrow, and we still have these death sentences in our heads.”
“What?”
“Oh. You didn’t know?” There was a tiredness to Flo’s voice. She couldn’t even be upset anymore, she was used to the news, but Rolan was hearing about this danger for the first time, about someone he felt a bit protective of, no less. “That’s what started our whole journey off. We were captured by mindflayers and now we’re… you know.”
“You’re infected?” He sat on a rock, clumsy from the wine, and tilted his head as though he would be able to see it through her eye.
“Oh yes. And unless we find a healer soon, Lyrical Flo will be no more.”
“But, it’s been days.” He foggily tried to count how many days he had known her, but gave up. Mindflayers never took long, did they? He touched her face, and when she didn’t pull away, held her chin so he could continue his investigation. Her eyes looked perfectly normal, there was no outward sign of the infection, but even if there had been, he was distracted by the fact that he was touching her, was allowed to, by the way his claws grazed her skin and she trusted would not pierce it.
“Who knows.” She shrugged. “Maybe this batch was a little off. Some we’ve consulted think there’s magic on these, holding them from turning us, but if it’s by accident or by design, we can’t know. I just can’t imagine this was the one group of benign Illithids to ever exist, and these will be little helpful parasites. Nope. We’ll be dead soon enough.”
“Wow.”
“Wow is right.” She sat next to him on the rock outcropping. “I don’t mean to sound resigned about it. Lae’zel has full faith that the nearby Gith creche will cure us. I’m skeptical, but why not? Garl’s had a weirder sense of humor before. We’re going there tomorrow.”
“Why-” he cleared his throat, “why me?” Flo tilted her head inquisitively. “I am touched that you trust me enough to speak with me about this. I don’t. Well. I don’t make friends easily. So why is it not Wyll or Shadowheart here with you to share your fears?”
“Frankly, Rolan, you’re a bit of a prick.” His instinct was to be offended, but she rested her head familiarly against his arm as she spoke, and he relaxed into the touch. “You’re not so soft hearted that you’ll sob and let me wallow. But you have some damn sense, you’d let me know if you had any ideas. Easy on the eyes. I like your voice. You agreed to stay at the Grove, when we talked to you. When your sister asked you to. You have a good heart. But you’re still a prick.”
He chuckled. If she liked that, she was in luck, as it came quite naturally to him.
“Rolan?”
“Yes?”
She was silent a beat too long, clearly unwilling to say what she really wanted to. “I have enjoyed spending time with you.”
“You’re a very pleasant companion,” he smiled at her.
She repeated his name, more softly this time, and when he looked at her, she was looking up at him with wide eyes, the makeup smudged at the corners. “May I kiss you?”
He didn’t answer at first, slightly shocked, but she was patient and waited for him. “I- yes?”
Their height difference wasn’t as pronounced while sitting, but he still had to bend to meet her as she stretched up to him. There was no heat to the kiss, just a yearning for connection. He hadn’t recognized his loneliness until just now, when it was abated. She sighed softly, resting her hand on his chest. He found it so interesting, how she had different proportions than he was used to, her hands larger for her frame than they would have been on a tiefling. And yet, his brain didn’t recoil, that she was different or other, it just saw Flo.
“You’re beautiful, Florence.”
She laughed, a soft giggle almost. “Thank you. I’m not called Florence very often anymore. My family also used to call me Florrie.”
“May I, also, call you Florrie?” He kissed her again, pressing his lips to hers slowly and deliberately.
“Yes,” she breathed into the kiss.
He placed his hand on her back, her short top meant that he was touching bare skin, which frizzled his brain so he couldn’t think straight. She leaned more into him this time, awkward because of the angle, pulling at his robes to get a grip. His tail moved on its own, across the both of them to caress her thigh.
“The music’s stopped.”
He hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t been aware of anything other than Flo for some time now.
“I should get back,” he said quietly. This would be her opportunity to invite him back to her tent. He wanted that, wanted her, but there was something stopping him from making the advance himself. Insecurity? The fear that these were just kisses born of loneliness and she didn’t feel the passion for him that he burned for her? If she knew she could die any day now, from violence or the tadpole, then he might not mean anything to her. He would be flattered even to be used as a passing fancy, but it wasn’t what he yearned for.
Instead, she cupped his face gently with one of her slightly too large hands. “Be safe on your journey, Wizard Rolan. I fully expect to see you in Baldur’s Gate in one piece.”
“And you, Lyrical Florence. I hope Lae’zel is right, and you find your solution tomorrow.” He turned his head to press a kiss to her palm.
}{
Lia was already asleep in her bedroll when he arrived back, Cal still sitting up and flipping through a book by the single candle’s light. “She’s very nice, you know,” he said conversationally, never looking up from the page. Rolan didn’t need to ask who. “She asked me about you, once, when you weren’t around. The way she did it makes me think she really likes you." He yawned and closed his book. "Well, good night. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.” Then he blew out the candle, leaving Rolan to undress in the dark, too stunned to even conjure himself a light.