Chapter Text
Torbek’s tail is nothing remarkable, a little fluffy stub he almost never sees, even in the mirror. He remembers, vaguely, it being longer; long enough to tuck between his legs and hug to his chest when the nights grew cold, when the fear gripped him tight.
Torbek isn’t sure if the rest of him grew too big, or if his tail was lost to some tragic accident. The latter seems more likely, Torbek is clumsy at the best of times, he wouldn’t be surprised if that had cost him his tail.
Sometimes the guys make jokes about Torbek’s tail, about the way it flicks uncontrollably when he’s excited, or how it desperately tries to tuck when Torbek is scared– Torbek thinks they mean well by it– just some ‘lighthearted banter between lads,’ as Gricko says– so Torbek tries to laugh it off, even though, secretly, it hurts Torbek’s feelings.
Torbek doesn’t like his tail, he hates it. It hurts when it gets too cold, it moves without his permission, it’s insignificant, and ugly, and useless– sort of like Torbek himself. It fits him perfectly.
That just makes him hate it more.
When Torbek looks at the other guys’ tails, he can’t help but wonder if they hate them too.
Mr. Kremy’s tail is thick and powerful, elegant and graceful, just like the lizardfolk it’s attached to. It never swings out of turn, never disobeys Mr. Kremy’s precise movements. Mr. Kremy is a showman through and through, and even his tail knows this, sweeping dramatically to the side when Mr. Kremy tips his hat to the crowd, kicking up sand like confetti to rain on his pristine suit– there and gone with a few clicks of his fingers. Torbek doesn’t think Mr. Kremy could hate his tail.
Gricko’s tail is simply incredible. The goblin has absolute control over his tail and uses it as a fifth limb, clinging to branches as he climbs in the trees, picking things up, sweeping dust off of Hootsie– he even uses the tuft of hair at the end to entice animals to play with him, wiggling his tail by them before sweeping it along the ground, a wide grin on his face as whatever ‘beastie’ he decided to befriend that day makes a valiant effort to eat his tail. Torbek can’t imagine Gricko hating his tail.
Twig’s tail is thin and whip-like, with a small poof of hair at the tip. She often swings it around or fiddles with it in her hands. It isn’t as strong as Gricko’s, and she can’t pick anything up with it, but she’ll frequently use it to dust off her skirt, and sometimes points with it if her hands are full. Twig loves to twirl around, her tail flowing like a ribbon behind her, her skirt flaring out, and when she smiles, her tail kinks to the side, as if smiling with her. Torbek doesn’t think Twig hates her tail. She seems to love it.
Frost…
Frost’s tail is long, elegant, and beautiful. It almost seems to move with a mind of its own, it sweeps and curls much like a cat’s– which Torbek supposes isn’t surprising. What is surprising is the amount of times Torbek has noticed Frost trying to keep his tail still.
Torbek first notices it when they’re in Downfall, working out the kinks of the new government, arguing over a tax policy that goes way over Torbek’s head. King Gullup says something that clearly irritates Frost, the tabaxi’s tone shifting just slightly as his brow pinches and his ears fold back. Torbek sees Frost tense, sees his tail twitching down to the tip, and he immediately recognizes the struggle. Torbek has tried to keep his tail still before– it isn't easy.
The first time Torbek truly sees Frost’s tail in action is when they almost kill Gricko via ice box. For the first time, Torbek sees Frost’s tail puff up, hair standing on end as the realization that they’d almost killed his best friend hits him. The reaction strikes Torbek as familiar, like an alley cat that puffs its tail up and hisses when it finds it’s not the only occupant of a dumpster, fear clearly spelled out in each and every stiff hair. Torbek idly wonders if Frost’s back is fluffed up underneath his robe, but he quickly distances himself from the thought, feeling bad for thinking about Frost naked.
After that, Torbek can’t help but notice how much Frost’s tail moves. Even though the man tries to keep it still, he isn’t all that successful. His tail flicks when Gricko mispronounces a word, it bounces at the tip when he solves a challenging puzzle, it thrashes violently while Bavlorna is making a deal with them. In Thither, it coils and waves as Hootsie and Juniper make friends, it drags limply behind him after the chocolate coin sends his insides into overdrive, it twitches when they’re talking to Will of The Feywild, it bounces side to side when they’re shopping in the goblin market.
Torbek struggles to pay attention to anything else. With all that’s happening around them, it’s easier to concentrate on the few constant non-threats, and the tails of his friends are what Torbek seems to have latched onto. He pays attention to Gricko’s and Kremy’s as well, but Frost’s tail, with its impressive length, bright orange and white fur, and the dark rings that encircle it, is by far the most interesting to Torbek. It’s colorful, and expressive, and so not Frost that it’s downright mesmerizing.
Frost is logical, and monotone, and blank-faced; it’s often difficult to tell what the tabaxi is thinking or feeling at any given time, but Torbek is learning that all he has to do is look at Frost’s tail, or check the position of his ears, to form a solid guess.
Frost with ears back and tail twitching is irritated Frost. Torbek doesn’t like irritated Frost, and tries to avoid bringing him forward whenever possible.
Frost with ears forward and tail bouncing at the tip is interested Frost. Torbek mostly sees him when something new is happening, or they’re looking at things to buy.
Frost with ears forward but relaxed and tail slightly curved at the tip is happy Frost. Torbek likes him a lot, but he mostly comes out when Frost is having an intellectual conversation, which Torbek isn’t very good at.
Torbek doesn't know how Frost feels about his tail, but Torbek thinks it’s beautiful. Torbek would give anything to have a tail like Frost’s, long and sleek and perfect.
It would probably look horrible on Torbek, though. Frost is beautiful from head to toe, Torbek having a tail like Frost’s wouldn’t change the fact that he’s an ugly, disgusting freak. If Torbek had a tail like Frost’s, he would just be an ugly, disgusting freak with a slightly-less-ugly tail.
Improvement is improvement, Torbek supposes, but he knows nothing short of complete transmogrification could truly fix him. He almost misses the fey curses; the hour or so he’d been in the form of an eladrin was the best hour of Torbek’s entire life. Maybe if Torbek was anything other than himself, Frost might–
Torbek bites his hand, rejecting the thought.
All Torbek is ever going to be is himself, and that is perhaps the most horrible tragedy Torbek has ever had to accept.
—
Being back in Avantris after so long is… weird.
The others seem quite happy to be ‘home’, and Twig has been spending most of her time licking all the ‘new frogs’ she can find in the swamp. Twig says the Feywild frogs were more potent, but these ones give her a really good headrush– which seems to be a positive thing, going by her slightly dazed grin.
Torbek tried licking a frog, once. It just made him throw up, though.
Torbek doesn't know how he feels about being back. The Feywild was pretty wild, pun intended, but he spent so long there, he almost feels like he‘d acclimated. Now that they’re back ‘home’, Torbek feels… Off-kilter. Unsettled.
The voices are loud and Torbek knows there’s another entity or two lurking in his body, and everyone else seems happy to continue on with life as usual, scheming and scamming and drifting from one place to another. It’s nothing Torbek isn’t used to, but it doesn't help ground him. He doesn't like the way he’s feeling, but he knows what would help, knows the one thing that always helps.
All Torbek wants is a drink.
Unfortunately for Torbek, he hasn’t been able to get his hands on any alcohol. He thinks the others must have hidden it, because he can’t find any around the Inn, but he sees the guys drinking at night.
Unfortunately, they refuse to share with Torbek.
“You’ve got no self-control, Torbek. Tell me you won’t overdo it if I let you have some– and don’t lie!” Mr. Kremy had said one night, and all Torbek could do was pin his ears back and look away, knowing he wouldn’t be able to convincingly lie to Mr. Kremy.
Then Torbek heard a voice echoing in his head, not one of the usual suspects, but rather Frost. Torbek had gotten somewhat used to Frost's voice popping into his mind, even though it still set him on edge and reminded him too much of the other voices.
‘Torbek, I understand you need a distraction from your… Problems’– Torbek huffed. What an understatement. –’However, alcohol will not help you forever. It does more harm than good, even if it doesn’t feel like that in the moment. If you need a distraction, I’m happy to provide one. Perhaps my voice might– drown out the others?’
Torbek wasn’t happy about it, but he had to admit, Frost was right about that. ‘If Frost wants to– it does make it easier to ignore them when Frost is talking to Torbek like this…’
Frost had nodded at him from across the table, then proceeded to tell Torbek about his plans for the night. It was nothing special, just his meditation routine and helping Gricko brush Hootsie, but he went into extensive detail, the exact position he meditates in and why, the snack he wants to eat afterward, the proper way to brush tabaxi teeth, even trying to predict what he and Gricko might talk about while they brush Hootsie.
It soon became apparent to Torbek that Frost was essentially thinking ‘out loud’ to him, but Torbek didn't mind. It made his head quiet and shut the voices up, just for a little. Torbek was grateful for the distraction.
He fell asleep right there at the kitchen table, Frost’s voice being the last thing he heard before he drifted off.
Torbek woke up in his bedroom, the sunlight beaming down on him through the window. He wasn’t sure how he got there, but he was able to enjoy a few moments of peace before the voices started talking again.
—
One evening, they’re all hanging out in one of the Inn’s sitting rooms.
The room is cosy, and warm, and very Twig. There are two plush couches and a handful of armchairs with knitted blankets draped over the backrests, throw pillows of all patterns and sizes scattered everywhere throughout the room, and ceiling-height bookcases filled to the brim with hundreds of books. There’s a fire crackling in the hearth and candles burning on candelabras with intricate swirling designs, knickknacks and trinkets piled onto shelves, the faint light of the fading sun filtering in through the window.
Everyone else is quietly doing something to entertain themselves. There’s paint and papers strewn over the coffee table where Hootsie is meticulously painting by number, a tiny paintbrush held delicately in her beak. There’s the sound of pages being turned as Kremy and Frost read, the sound of metal clinking as Gideon fiddles with something in his hands, the sound of metal rasping on wood as Gricko whittles.
Twig is absentmindedly tiding, periodically sending dirty looks to Gricko as he carelessly sends flakes of bark and wood fluttering onto the freshly swept floor.
Torbek is sitting on the floor, his back against one of the armchairs as he hugs a throw pillow, resting his chin on it while he watches his friends do nothing much. It’s almost relaxing, apart from the chatter in his head and the occasional crack! and pop! coming from the hearth.
Torbek tries not to focus on it too hard, but he can’t help but watch Frost’s tail.
It hangs over the edge of the couch, occasionally flicking or curving at the tip. It almost seems to bounce, the way it flicks from left, to right, left, to right.
Torbek’s eyes follow the movement, steady and precise, flicking left to right, like a metronome of orange, white, and black. It looks so soft, and clean, and beautiful, all but glowing under the firelight.
Torbek wishes he could touch it.
Why would Frost ever let you? someone asks. With those disgusting hands of yours? someone else adds. Torbek is horrible and stupid for even thinking about it, he realizes, and the voices agree.
Torbek tears his eyes away, looking into the fire, wondering how long he’d have to stare at its bright light before his eyes burn out of his skull.
Hopefully not too long.
Torbek doesn't need eyes– they do him no good, they’re a burden onto others, just like Torbek himself.
The voices keep up their chatter, the fire cracks! and pops! as embers spit across the cobblestones surrounding the hearth.
Maybe some will land in Torbek’s eyes. That would probably speed things up.
Unfortunately, nothing ever works out for Torbek, and by the time he looks away, his eyes are still intact– if a little sore. He blinks a few times as black splotches swim in his vision. When he can finally focus, he looks around the room, only to find that everyone has left.
Well.
Everyone except Frost, who’s still reading on the couch.
Torbek wants to ask where everyone went, but the words stick in his throat as his gaze lands on Frost’s tail again. It’s flicking more erratically now, as if Frost’s become dissatisfied with whatever he’s reading. Torbek tries to look away, but the pattern of flicking changes again, reeling his attention back to Frost’s tail as it slowly flicks left to right, left to right.
“Torbek.”
Torbek startles, eyes jumping up to Frost’s face, finding the tabaxi is already looking dead at him. Torbek swallows back his nerves and hums questioningly.
Frost narrows his eyes, tail lashing, and Torbek has to fight himself to keep his eyes locked on Frost’s face. “Why are you staring at my tail?”
“Wh-what?” Torbek stutters, heart rate spiking and– is that what Twig means by ‘head rush’? Torbek doesn’t like it. Frost just narrows his eyes more, and Torbek has to fight past the panic to ask, “What… What does Frost mean?”
“You’re staring at my tail,” Frost says, his words carefully emphasized. “You keep staring at my tail. You’ve been staring at it for weeks. I want to know why.”
Torbek feels his throat closing up, and the panic is surging and– why is he staring? Frost wants to know and he’s narrowing his eyes more and–
“Torbek– Torbek thinks it’s beautiful–!”
Wait.
No.
No no no– wait!
Frost’s eyes aren’t narrow anymore, they’re wide, alarmed, and Torbek has fucked up, Torbek has fucked up so bad–
”You…” Torbek can feel his heartbeat in his throat, and Frost is just staring at him, like the freak that he is, like– “You think it’s beautiful?”
Torbek hesitates, grimacing, but Frost is mad, his ears aren’t pinned back but Torbek knows he is– why wouldn’t he be? And Frost wants an answer, and Torbek has already fucked up, he has to–
“Yes!” Torbek spits, and he immediately regrets it, and wishes he’d said ‘no’, because Frost just sits there with an unreadable expression, staring at Torbek, and Torbek can’t take it!
“Oh…” Frost’s ear flicks, tail twitching– irritated? All Torbek wants to do is crawl under something and hide.
Torbek whines, his eyes feel hot, he knows he’s about to cry, but he can’t cry in front of Frost, not when Frost should be the one crying right now–
Frost picks up his book’s ribbon and carefully marks the page he’s on, setting the book aside on an end table. The tabaxi stands, nods at Torbek, and says, “I’ll see you at dinner. Kremy said it would be ready in half an hour.”
Then, Frost leaves, tail twitching as he tries to keep it still.
Meanwhile, Torbek is having trouble breathing, and his heart is still racing, and he needs to hide– he stumbles to his feet and sprints for his bedroom.