Chapter Text
“So… Can you, like, feel things?”
If Bolaire Lethalia could blink, he’d be doing it right now, rapidly, in astonishment and mild offense. He turned his head slowly, staring at the dwarf who’d managed to even ask that in the first place, titling his head. He just stared at her silently, letting the audacity of the question hang in the air for a moment.
He’d expected questions sooner, if he was being honest. It’d been nearly a week since his reveal, and he could tell they were all brimming with questions they wanted to ask. He could see it in their faces, in their hesitation every time they all managed to meet up in the little nook Halandil and himself had procured. None of them wanted to be the first to broach the topic, though. They all instead held their tongues, waiting for someone else to be the first to say something.
Hal was far too polite to say what he wanted to say, despite being the one who perhaps deserved the most answers. He watched, instead. Eyes fixed on Bolaire as they all spoke, always ending the night by asking when Bolaire would next visit the Rookery.
Azune had come close, occasionally inquiring on his wellbeing, how his body was doing, but shied away from ever really asking what he really wanted to. He highly doubted he ever would, if he wasn’t prompted by someone else. And thusly, they were at an impasse. A stalemate, almost.
And Bolaire was most definitely not going to be the one to break it.
That privilege would go to Murray Mag’Nesson.
With a crude question and a bottle of wine shared between them all, Murray seemingly had had enough of them all beating around the bush, as it were. She pointed her glass at Bolaire, propping her boobs on the table as she leaned forward, and asked her question.
A moment passed, then another, as Bolaire just stared at her. She huffed at Bolaire’s deadpan stare, waving her free hand dismissively. “No, not like feelings-feel. I know you have those. I meant like- okay, if you got stabbed, would you feel it.” She paused, brows furrowing. “I mean your body- or not your body? The body! If it got stabbed, would you feel that?”
And there was the ice, broken at his feet. “Ah.” He saw Hal and Azune both sit up slightly, attention clearly piqued. “Well…” He hummed, bringing a hand up to his chin. “Well- I suppose I do, in a way. Nowhere near as… sharp, as if my actual self was stabbed, but I do feel something.”
She nodded thoughtfully, now bringing her own hand to her chin. She pressed her lips together, then opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Okay.” She finally landed on, before closing her mouth again. “Follow up question- how much is “somethin’”? Just a pinch? A dull sensation? What are you working with?”
“Dull, I’d say.” He replied easily. He swirled the dark-red wine in his glass, leaning back in his seat. “It’s more of a bother than anything- like a slight pressure.”
“Damn, how many times have you been stabbed to know that answer?” She asked, huffing out a small laugh as she took another drink of her glass.
He laughed as well, feeling the tension melt from his shoulders. “One too many times, I’m afraid to admit.” He answered, lifting his glass to hers. She clinked their glasses together, nodding approvingly.
“You should be more careful, friend.” Halandil interjected now, offering his own small wry smile.
He looked at his oldest friend, voice momentarily lost as Halandil’s gaze met his own. Something tight seized in his chest, warm and heavy. The two still hadn’t spoken about any revelations from… that night. When he’d managed to scrounge up enough courage to visit Halandil two days after that night, Hal had treated it like every other time. He’d smiled and greeted him as usual, before sweeping him away to discuss a new collection of poetry he’d procured. Bolaire had tried to take it in strides, but he couldn’t help waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Hal to look at him with those eyes, so full of mistrust and sadness.
But his eyes were soft now, curious. Nothing accusatory in his watchful gaze as he smiled at the mask. He sat calmly, posture relaxed and so painfully familiar. Bolaire swallowed, “I’ll take that into consideration for next time.” He replied, raising his glass to him as well and earning a soft chuckle from Hal.
There’s a short lull after, a moment of silence as Bolaire studies Halandil’s face, and he knows Hal does the same. And for once, since revealing his true nature to them all, it all feels easy. Effortless. And then-
“Is your body… Alive?” Azune speaks up softly. Carefully. He’s slowly rubbing his hands together- a nervous habit he’d noticed several times now. “Does it- you- have a heartbeat?”
He tears his gaze away from Hal, turning now to the Arcane Marshall. His expression was far more cautious, expression steadfast as he watched him. He watched him in return, scanning his well-trained form as he sat just a few feet away on the small, gaudy loveseat Halandil had supplied. Bolaire still wishes he’d burned it when he had the chance. He watches him for a moment longer, then glances at Murray as well.
She takes a large gulp of her wine, staring daggers into the side of Azune’s head. What the fuck Azune he sees her mouth silently. He looks back at Hal, finds him still staring at him. His gaze was now more apologetic, brows furrowed and lips pressed together in a thin line over his tusks. Bolaire tilted his back in response, shrugging his shoulders.
He knew the answer, logistically. And he was… at least 80% sure Azune would believe him if he simply answered. He was equal parts trusting and cautious, which Bolaire always found endearing. So… Perhaps it was the wine, or the ease in the atmosphere right now, but Bolaire found himself bowing his head and setting his glass down on the small table he and Murray were sitting around.
“Would you like to check for yourself?” He asked, turning back to Azune. The sorcerer blinked in surprise, sitting a little straighter as he now stared dumbly at him. Bolaire leans forward, baring his neck to the other man. “Go on, I don’t mind.”
Azune glanced at Hal, then back to Bolaire. He swallowed, eyes fixed on Bolaire’s exposed neck. He waited patiently, glowing eye-like gems never leaving Azune’s face. His brows furrowed, jaw setting in determination as he lifted himself from the loveseat, taking the few steps it took to reach him and kneeled.
He tilted his head, offering up his neck. Azune reached up slowly, pressing two fingers to his carotid. He felt the dull pressure of his fingers against his throat, the warm feeling of skin against skin. And there it was, the faint, almost imperceptible thrum of a heartbeat. A soft thump… thump… beneath his fingers. His eyes widen, flicking up to meet Bolaire. His lips parted to say something- Bolaire’s not sure what- but nothing comes out.
“Well?” He prompts.
Azune slowly takes his hand away, eyes still fixed on his bared throat. There’s a lingering warmth where his hand was. He tries to ignore it. “It’s faint.” He answers after a second. “But there is one.” He heard Murray give a small huh noise beside him, seemingly surprised by this information as well.
He hummed, leaning back but keeping his gaze on Azune. “For now.” He answered with a small tilt to his head. Azune’s brow quirked, eyes snapping up to the mask. His lips pursed, a question on the tip of his tongue. Bolaire huffed a small laugh, deciding to put him out of his misery. “Eventually, the body will give out. I’m afraid that’s an inevitability. So, for now, there is a heartbeat.”
Azune, surprisingly, took this new information in strides. He nodded slowly, looking back down at his neck. Slowly, he stood back up. One hand came up to absently run through his beard as he stepped back to the loveseat. He sat down, dropping his hands to his lap in thought. “And it’s definitely inevitable? There’s no way to… Sustain it?” Permanently? He didn’t add, but Bolaire heard it nonetheless.
“Sustain? For a period, yes. Not permanently.” He rolls his shoulders, taking another drink from his glass. “I can eat, and sleep, and drink, and it will keep the body in… decent enough condition. But, they’ll always fail eventually.” He sets the now-empty glass down. “Better to switch things up before they become dire.”
“That… is horrifying to imagine.” Murray commented, whistling low. She sat her glass down as well, looking from his neck to the mask himself. “No offense.” She added after a moment.
“None taken.” He replied, dipping his head. “It is a little horrifying.” He agreed with a small chuckle. Bodies were, after all, a disgusting but necessary evil for his continued existence. He reached for the bottle of wine, pouring himself another glass. “Now, any more burning questions while we’re on the topic?”
“Yeah, actually.” Murray immediately piped up. She propped up her chin in her hand, her golden, scrutinizing gaze fixed on him. “Can you, y’know, do it?” She wiggled her eyebrows to emphasize her, once again, absolutely crass question.
Hal had, unfortunately, chosen that exact moment to take a drink. He choked, sputtering wine and choking as he stared wide-eyed at the arcanist. He looked so shocked and taken offguard, Bolaire couldn’t help the bark of laughter he let out. Azune’s head was in his hands now, shaking. “Murray…” He started.
“What! We were all thinking it, don’t act like it was just me!” She threw her hands up in mock-surrender. “And I know I ain’t the only one here who’s heard a rumor or two before!” He points an accusatory finger at the two men, which effectively shuts them up.
It wasn’t that Bolaire wasn’t aware of such rumors about himself. Any person with any degree of mystery surrounding them accumulated some particularly salacious speculation in society. He’d even heard some of the rumors in question at galas and similar events; he never gave them any mind, though. He knew they weren’t true, and it kept other rumors, much more dangerous rumors, from finding purchase.
He sighed in amusement, another laugh already threatening to bubble over as he shook his head. “Can? Mm… Perhaps. Willing to? Well, that’s an entirely different question.” He replies in lieu of a real answer, which only made Murray grin wide, jeweled teeth on full display.
She opened her mouth to say something else, hands slapping onto the table to lift her up, before Hal swept in to deftly lift her from her seat. “Okay, I think that’s enough for one night.” He interrupted, earning an indignant squawk from Murray.
“What- no! I have more questions!” She practically whined, but made no struggle to escape him. He gingerly set her down on her feet, one hand on her shoulder as she stumbled. “It ain’t even that late.” She grumbled.
“Actually, it’s nearly midnight.” Azune corrected, also rising to his feet. “And I know we all have work tomorrow.” He pointed out, earning a loud groan from Murray and a laugh from Hal. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.” He patted her on the back, guiding her towards the door.
“Make sure she drinks some water as well!” Bolaire called after them, chuckling. Azune waved over his shoulder as he and Murray exited, with Murray muttering her own goodbye begrudgingly.
He heard Hal laugh softly beside him, hands on his hips as he watched them leave as well. He lowered his head as the door closed, shaking his head with an amused grin plastered on his face.
That had always been one of the very few things Bolaire envied- people’s ability to smile, to emote so freely. To express yourself with just a quirk of a brow, a wrinkle in the corner of an eye. A mask couldn’t move like that. He could watch people’s faces for hours, but never replicate them. It was a bitter feeling.
He looked away from the door, abruptly cutting off those thoughts before they consumed him. “Well.” he started, grabbing the now-empty bottle of wine and glasses on the table. “This was an interesting night.” He said lightly.
Hal hummed in agreement, turning to help him gather the other glasses. They cleaned in comfortable silence, moving to the small kitchenette to rinse the glasses and put away the wine bottle. “I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable.” Hal spoke up finally. “With our questions.”
He tsked, waving his friend off. “You’re perfectly fine, dearest. I was honest when I said I never wanted to lie to you.” He patted him gently on the arm, moving away to place the glasses in the cabinet. “And I will definitely take questions over hatred.” He shrugged, glancing over his shoulder at the other. He’d meant it to come out more lighthearted than it did, but even he could hear the strain in his voice. The caution.
Hal nodded, hands resting on the edge of the counter. “Was that… something you were really worried about?” He turned partially, until he could look at Bolaire. “Did you think I’d hate you?”
“Logically? No.” He answered truthfully. “No offense, but you don’t have a hateful bone in your body.” He chuckled, seeing the small flush on Hal’s face as he smiled as well. “But…” He continued, hands falling to his side. “I’ve found that fears are often not very logical. It was a possibility, and that was enough.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Hal said, stepping closer to him, hand reaching out to grip his shoulder. He gave it a gentle squeeze, brows furrowed. “That could never be a possibility. Not for you.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but firm and left no room for arguing. Shadia once jokingly called it his “dad voice”.
He swallowed, reaching up to set his hand atop Hal’s, basking in the casual touch’s warmth. Even through his shirt, he could feel it. Like a furnace, he thought to himself. “Thank you, Halandil.” He replied after another moment. “That means… a lot, to me.” It means everything, he does not say. Cannot say.
“Of course.” He gives another gentle squeeze before pulling away. “You’re one of my oldest and dearest friends, Bolaire.” He turns, stepping back into the small parlor. “If nothing else, I hope you remember that.” He offers the mask a small smile over his shoulder.
Bolaire lowered his head briefly, fondness overwhelming him for a moment as he let the other’s words wash over him. “You have such a way with words.” He sighed softly before joining Halandil by the door. He opened it for him, taking a small bow.
Hal laughed, stepping into the open doorway. “It is in the job description.”
The two exited the small hideaway, locking the door behind them. They walked down the street in the comfortable silence of the late-night of Dol-Makjar. Hal’s shoulder brushed against his, a fond grin still plastered to his face.
If Bolaire could smile, truly smile, he’s certain that he would be as well.