Chapter Text
By the time New Guy makes his way to the forge, March already knows who he is. How could he not? There's not a soul in Mistria who doesn't know New Guy's name already.
And watching the new guy saunter up, he really doesn't get what all the fuss is about. If anything, meeting him just confirms March's fears.
His dirty hair falls loose around his shoulders, hazardous. The shirt tucked into his pants reveals a bit of pudge at the belly, clearly soft and unused to hard work. The hand he extends to March is soft and pink, not a callous to speak of, not a speck of dirt under the short nails.
New Guy is massively unprepared. He won't be of any help. He told Adeline it was a bad idea, putting out a random ad and hoping someone halfway competent would answer. Guy probably doesn't even know his brass from his bronze.
March's own hands are gloved. He does not extend one.
"...The name's March," he sniffs. "What do you want?"
"I'm Rady," New Guy smiles. "I'm the new farmer in town!"
"I don't see what that has to do with me. Regardless of what Adeline says, we don't need an outsider to come in and solve our problems for us. I- we have everything under control," he sneers. "Just don't get in the way."
New Guy snorts, clearly amused. "Right. I'll do my best."
He strolls away, shiny leather boots (new boots, not even broken in!) clicking on the cobblestone as he walks off into the narrows. He opens a notebook tucked into one of his back pockets (with little flowers embroidered across it, seriously?), murmuring over it as he walks, head buried in the book.
He stumbles over a stray crack, a divot in the path knocked out of place by the earthquake. March huffs a laugh, which New Guy hears if the way he glares is any indication. Still, he stays silent. Prideful.
March doesn't bother to watch as he goes. He won't last the week.
____________________
Alright. So. The week isn't over yet. There's still time.
But they seem to be getting awful comfy.
He watches them flit around the room. Rady. Not 'New Guy'; not a guy, apparently.
Rady. Rady, Rady, he can't escape talking about Rady. They seem nice enough.
Too nice. How else do you describe the way they run about town, always in five places at once, other than people-pleasing?
Oh, they brought me a flower earlier, Reina giggled while he stewed over stew yesterday.
Olric was the one who brought them up. Well, he brought them up because he was telling Reina how March scared them off the day before, but whatever. Scared is a bit dramatic.
They seem so sweet... I saw Luc showing them his field guide earlier. I don't know how they stomach looking at all those bugs, but he was so excited, she smiled fondly. If you don't scare them off, it'll probably be the next spider Luc brings them!
And yet. Here they are.
He takes another swig of his drink. The warmth pools in his stomach, a familiar lighthness swinging around his head.
He listens to his people's chatter. The character voice Eiland puts on, accent tilting and infused with drama. The whispery squeaks of the children plotting over his head, trying and failing for secrecy as they poke their heads over the banister. The bubbling of stew behind him, the quick chops of Jo's knives. His handiwork, of course. He should ask if she wants them sharpened.
Tomorrow, he thinks, hand heavy as he lifts the glass to his lips. He's already sloshed.
Raucous, unfamiliar laughter from the poker table.
And when he looks over, everyone wears a sour face except Olric, who looks at Rady with a soft confusion. Everyone gone quiet except Rady, who's clutching Olric's shoulder and doubled over in laughter.
Their cheeks visibly redden when they notice the stares and remember themselves. Remember that they are a stranger here, and that they have no right to laugh at his brother. Their eyes briefly meet his before they cough, embarrassed.
"Yeah, that's a great hand, Olric." They pat his shoulder and stand. "Keep it up, big guy!"
He gives them a bright thumbs up. Everyone goes back to their conversation. March watches their eyes scan the room before they land on the empty barstool next to him. Still, they hestiate.
He doesn't bother to pull it out for them, but smiles when they slide into the seat anyway.
They watch his people. Juniper and Valen flirting over wine, Elsie interjecting every so often, Hemlock sliding them a drink across the counter.
He watches them.
In the warm firelight, it's hard to tell what color their eyes are. Blue, maybe? Washed muddy by the orange flames, pupils flickering? They're nervous, that much is clear.
They sniff the drink, beaked nose wrinkling at the smell of it. Heh.
He must have laughed out loud, because their eyes flicker to him next.
He doesn't break their gaze, daring them to say something. They don't. They just tip their drink to him, offering him the glass.
He smirks. Too nice.
"Hey, come here, c'mere," he beckons them closer.
Hesitantly, they lean in. Rim of the glass pinched in one hand, he leans into their ear, tucking their hair out of the way with the other. They'll have to do something about that soon.
"I'll let you in on a little secret..." he whispers. "You're not so bad." He smiles and pats them solidly across the back, knocking them forward with the force. Whoops.
He means to apologize, but Elsie's giggles grate at his ears, which makes him want a drink. Apologies are forgotten at the first touch of syrup to his lips, along with most things that aren't how good this cocktail tastes.
What was I talking about again... he wonders in the fog.
When it lifts the next morning and he emerges with a pounding headache and the distinct sense he embarrassed himself last night, he decides to forego the hammer for today.
He spends his Saturday drawing dancing swords at his desk.
____________________
"Good morning, Caldarus," Rady kneels before the statue.
"Please stand, mortal. You need not kneel for me," the dragon grumbles in his gentle way.
"I like it down here," he grins up at the statue.
He offers the essence he's been storing away since yesterday, but even this is not enough to fortify the dragon into speaking once more.
Caldarus is tired often. They would be too, they suppose, if they were awoken from a some-hundred years long slumber.
Through tether without language, Caldarus offers them assistance with watering their plants. He agrees, and feels a fraction of the essence he gave return to his body.
It's an interesting sensation. It's a kind of eating; a filling.
When he is heavy with essence, he does not feel satiated, slower, bloated, just... full. Even so, when it is gone, he doesn't feel empty. He doesn't feel its absence until it returns, sparking on his tongue and warming in his throat until it settles at the base of his neck.
It reminds him of a candy he had when he was younger, one that fizzed and popped in your mouth, knocking on the back of your teeth until you opened your jaw to let it jump out.
But essence is sweeter than candy. Sweet like grapes, and honey, and hands around their neck.
Sometimes, when Caldarus pulls it all out at once, it feels like breathing fire.
Anyway, it's a good relationship.
Accidentally entering a pact with an ancient dragon statue was definitely the most surprising thing about coming to Mistria, but it's been good so far. He helps Caldarus grow stronger, and Caldarus helps them.
At least, he thinks he's helping Caldarus. It'll likely be slow going. But if there's anything he's got, it's time.
Not like I've got much else, he grimaces internally.
They catalog their day internally as they water their crops. Maybe it's placebo, but the can does feel a bit lighter.
I'll talk to Landen and Rhys today about adding a bathroom to my place so I don't need to keep using Hayden's outhouse. I'll want Adeline there for that conversation. I'll give Maple the tulip I found yesterday for her request... should also check the request board today. Cute kid.
I wonder if Shreya would like it here. I hope she's doing well.
What grade is she in this year? If she's even still in school... do the kids here do school?
Mom would be disappointed if she knew I was doing this... after all my education, throwing it away to become a farmer out in the middle of nowhere.
He kneels in the dirt, watching the cupping cabbage leaves sway in the breeze.
March was right... what am I doing here?
Helping people, Grandma Ruby's voice whispers, wind caressing the stray curls over his ears. It's what you do best, she chuckles.
They don't need me here, they whisper. I don't belong here. They've been welcoming for the most part, but... what do I even do here? What can I do for them that they can't do for themselves?
You can start by getting your lily butt out of that dirt, she chides. Go. Get a move on, now.
"Yes, ma'am," he says to the air.
They leave their watering can on a fence post, and do just that.